Some people are too stupid to live

Today was a weird day. It started out okay, but this afternoon was frought with conflict and full of stupid people.

After Punkin's nap, we all piled in the car and headed out to Target to get a few things. Plus, I hadn't been to Target in a while and I love to just go and look around every now and then. The turning lane from the main road into Target is two lanes, and of course when you're turning you have to maintain your lane. We were in the outside lane and someone else on the inside. As we made the turn, it became quite clear that the other folks were not going to maintain their lane and so Mr. Daddy did what any red-blooded American would do -- he laid down on the horn. Now, these people DID have plates from a different county, but I would venture to say that they've been to this Target before and should know how the parking lot works. As we continued into the parking lot and pulled even with the people before veering right, Mr. Daddy tapped the horn again and made what I would call a "Come on!" gesture with his hands. And by "come on" I mean "give me a break" kind of come on, not "Come get a piece of me" of come on. And all of a sudden, the guy slams on his brakes and then squeals tires to pull alongside us again. He rolls down his window "Hey, a**hole, what's your problem. I didn't see you. I'm sorry. What the f**k is your problem?!?" but not in any type of conciliatory tone at all. Mr. Daddy said "Watch where you're going!" and drove off. Mr. Daddy hoped we would run into them inside Target so he could chastise the guy for using such nice language in front of our kids, but I was envisioning fisticuffs amongst the Mossimo and was praying they decided to go elsewhere. It took awhile for the adrenaline to dissipate, but finally my heart stopped racing and the shopping commenced. (Side note, look at these precious boots I bought for Punkin!)

The shopping trip was mostly uneventful. We made our purchases and went back to our car. As we were loading we noticed a woman walking around and around a silver Mercedes parked nearby. Another woman walked up and the pacing woman said "Are they doing anything?" The other lady said "No, they're all standing around with their thumbs up their a**es." That's when Mr. Daddy and I noticed the dog in the car. All the windows were shut tight and this dog, it looked like a miniature grayhound or perhaps a whippet, was dying. Literally. It's chest was heaving and it was slobbering like a mad dog. It had to have been 100 degrees in the car, out in the sun, with no shade whatsoever. The newly arrived woman had gone inside and asked the Target staff to page the owner. Mr. Daddy took matters into his own hands and called Animal Control. They told him they would send someone out right away. We all continued to stand there watching this animal suffer, all of cursing the owner as an idiot. One of the women and I discussed breaking one of the windows. I literally felt like we had only mintues before this dog died. I've never even seen such a horrific thing. I'm not sure how long we stood there, probably 10 minutes or so, but it felt like forever. Finally, I decided to call the Target store and ask them to page the owner again. Just as the operator was telling me that she had just paged the owner, this young woman walks up and yells out "That's MY car." I yelled back, "Well, your dog is DYING! You should have cracked your windows." She runs up, with a cart loaded with groceries and packages I might add, and unlocks the door. One of the other ladies had retrieved a bottle of water from her own car and they began to minister to the poor dog. From the looks of her cart, she was probably in the store for well over an hour. She kept saying, "It was so cool this morning, I thought it would be okay." Mr. Daddy said "Well, maybe next time you should leave your dog at home."

We didn't stick around to see if Animal Control showed up. Frankly I wanted to get out of there before I said something I would regret. I kept hoping AC would arrive before the owner came out so she would get in the trouble she deserves. But ultimately I'm glad the dog ended up being okay. I wish there were a doggie DFACS I could call. Some people do not deserve pets.

I hope I run into fewer stupid people tomorrow. There's always hope.

Well that was maybe just a little too easy....

Probably by even posting about it I'm jinxing the whole thing, but last night Punkin' gave up her pacifier, or her higgie as she calls it. We've never been a paci family. I mean, we've never called it a paci or a pacifier. When Bubba was a baby we called it a hootie because that's what my mother-in-law always called them. And the little clip that holds the pacifier to their shirt? Why, it was a hootie holder (in case you didn't know, I love me some alliteration!). When Punkin' came along, we still called it a hootie, but Punkin' took that word and put her own little spin on it and it became a higgie. And I have to say, that I like THAT word even more than hootie.

Both Bubba and Punkin' were hootie/higgie babies, thank God. I'm not sure what I would have done without them over the years and I feel true sympathy for those parents whose children won't take one. What do you do?! Anytime either of my children were inconsolable, all we had to do was offer their pacifier. If they woke crying in the middle of the night all I usually had to do was give them their hootie/higgie and they were satisfied. Well, except for THIS time.

There was a brief period when Bubba was a baby when he didn't really take to a pacifier. I was very into all the Braselton books about learning to self-soothe (which I STILL believe in, by the way) and I actually tried to encourage Bubba to suck his thumb. The thought of that now is horrifying because you can take a hootie/higgie away, but you can't take their THUMB away. I once knew a kid who sucked his thumb until well into elementary school. It was a wizened, withered little thing (his thumb, I mean) and he caught hell for it. His parents tried everything from bitter stuff on his thumb to even a contraption in his mouth that poked his thumb every time he put it in his mouth. Nothing worked. He's a grown man now and I'm pretty sure he's not still sucking his thumb, but I thank my lucky stars every day that Bubba was not interested in his thumb and eventually took to his hootie.

And getting Bubba to give up his hootie was actually pretty easy. I had steeled myself for a battle because he was very attached. But he started a new daycare at about 18 months and the lady who ran it was VERY old fashioned and slightly frightening and he was not allowed to have a hootie at school, not even at naptime. Side note about this woman. She once told me I should SPANK Bubba to get him to potty train at 18 months, that he was just being "stubborn." Um, no. I'll just be taking my son and moving along, thank you. Anyway, before the spanking "advice" came along, we had to wean him from his hootie so we started out by letting him have it only at naptime and bedtime. He knew when he got up that he had to leave it in the bed. And he was fine with that. Then we cut out naptimes. And finally we cut out nighttime. I don't remember a single night that he cried for his hootie. Easy as pie.

Punkin'? Not so much. NOTHING with Punkin is easy. She, too, was very attached to her higgie. She, too, started attending formal daycare at about 18 months, but her school (the same place I had moved Bubba to) was much more understanding of higgies and loveys. We did however, limit hers to bedtime and naptime as well. And then a couple of months ago, she got a case of thrush and we had to sterilize and sterilize and sterilize the higgies, which got to be a big ol' pain in the tushie. "Let's go cold turkey" I said. "No!" Punkin said. We did manage to get her to give it up at school, but at naptime and bedtime at home she still had to have it. "Why would you want to do that to yourself?" my mom asked. Good question. So, she kept it. I figured we would worry about it down the road, when she was a little older. When I could reason with her.

But last night, after bath, I thought, "What the heck. Let's give it a try." Every night after I put her pajamas on her, she likes to lie down on my and Mr. Daddy's bed. She puts her little head on Mr. Daddy's pillow, pats my pillow and says "Lay down, mommy." I do and I rub her back a little while she smiles at me (around her higgie) and looks at me with those gorgeous blue eyes.

So last night I said, "You don't need that higgie."

Punkin': "Mm hum"

Me: "No! You're a big girl. You don't need it. Let's put it the trash."

Punkin': "Okay" and she hands me the higgie! Just like that! Of course I didn't actually put it IN the trash. She might have really, really wanted it later and I'm still not 100% prepared to go cold turkey.

But she went to bed without it. She did ask for it once, but I said "We put it in the trash. Remember?" And that was that. She didn't cry for it. She didn't ask about it anymore. Huh. Who knew it would be that easy.

Update: I wrote this post earlier today. She did ask for her higgie at bedtime tonight, but again I said "Remember? We threw it in the trash." And she was satisfied. Woo hoo! Pat, pat, pat (that's me, patting myself on the back!)

Thirteen things you'll never hear me say

Here are 13 things you'll never hear coming out of my mouth!

1. Sure I'll be your math tutor!

2. That was so fun, let's run another mile.

3. George Clooney is not attractive to me at all!

4. Cake? No thanks.

5. I prefer artificial sweetener in my coffee.

6. Go out to eat? Nah, I'd rather cook.

7. Money is no object.

8. I love the way my thighs look in this bathing suit.

9. There's nothing I love more than a good political discussion.

10. I have way too many shoes.

11. Let's get up early tomorrow.

12. Britney's new weave looks fantastic!

13. Blogs? Give me a break! Who wants to sit around and read about Betty Joe Schmoe's day?

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What a girl wants

What do I want? This right here




I want a new blog design. When I first created my banner I thought it was so creative and cool. But that was way back when I was a blog novice. I was only reading like two blogs back then. I didn't know how many awesomely cool looking blogs are out there (not that the two I was reading weren't awesome because they are, but they are professional bloggers, sort of).

And I have major blog envy. See, Lulu just did an awesome blog upgrade as did Precarious Tomato. I know there are probably other things I can do to my blog, but I'm not really very technically savvy. I'm fairly good at graphic design-y type stuff, but I don't know how to bring it to life on my blog.

I've started pricing upgrades, but frankly, blog upgrade is not exactly a line item in the ol' budget these days. When Lulu kindly alerted me to the above contest, I told her I had been casing a couple of banks, but really, a contest is so much easier! Plus, there's no prison involved! Bonus!

So, cross your fingers for me. And you can enter, too, IF YOU MUST. If you just have to. But if I don't win I'm going to cry. And seriously, nobody wants that right?

Dad -- Repurposed

My dad anf my stepmother came to Bubba's soccer game tonight. It is so astounding to see my dad sitting there, cheering on a group of 4 year olds when he NEVER came to any activity of mine when I was growing up. Never. He might have come to one of my dance recitals when I was four and five, but my only really clear memories are of my brother and my mother.

I think I may have mentioned here before that my parents were divorced, but it's actually a little more complicated than that. My parents separated when I was two (after already having divorced and remarried once already), but then didn't divorce for good until I was 18. That's right. You read that right. Eighteen!

All those years my dad didn't live with us, but he was sort of a part of our lives. He would come and spend the day with us on Sunday. When I got a little older he went on vacations with us. He owned a restaurant and sometimes on Friday and Saturday nights we'd go hang out there and eat supper. I got to play the jukebox as many times as I wanted. And I could go behind the counter and get whatever I wanted, which I always thought was so cool, especially when I had one of my friends with me. After he sold the restaurant, he and mom would often go out on Friday and Saturday nights but sometimes my mom didn't go because she didn't like some of the people they hung out with.

Now that living situation seems so weird, but at the time it seemed completely normal. Whenever someone invited me to spend the night, all I had to do was ask my mom. I never understood why when I would invite someone over my friends would say "I have to ask my dad." I was just like "Why can't your mom say yes?" As an adult, I now understand why my mom made the decisions that she made, but it also makes me look at decisions that I've made in my own life in a new light.

Life wasn't always birthday cake and rainbows, as I'm sure you can imagine, with such an interesting living arrangement. Our situation was basically ideal for my dad. He got to have his cake and eat it too, so to speak. He got all the benefits of having a wife, with none of the day to day responsibilities of a husband and father. I can remember once that my mom was going to be out town for work and she asked my dad to pick me up from a school trip to the Model United Nations that was held at a college in our state. His response? "She can't always do everything she wants to do." He didn't want to take time out of his day, out of his Friday night social life to pick me up. So, my mom drove 2 hours out of her way to pick me up.

And she was a single mom in every sense of the word. Dad gave us some help financially, but everything else was on her. The trekking to and fro daily activities, all household chores, all the parenting duties...they were on her.

Am I bitter? I was. For a little while. But now I'm not. You know, life is too short to hold grudges against people. My dad is not perfect. He's only human. And you know what? He's a fantastic grandfather. He and Bubba have a truly great relationship and he and Punkin are getting to know each other. And his wife, the "step-mom" that I viewed as an interloper for many years, well, she loves my kids just as much as he does.

Red Stapler had this post today about forgiveness. Although I am not an alcoholic, the Serenity Prayer is something I think about a lot -- "God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference." I cannot change the past. It is done. I know my dad would change some things from the past if he could. He's told me as much. But he can't. So all I can do is to be the best daughter I can be and help him be the best grandfather he can be. So far, I think we're all doing a pretty good job.

Things that make me happy on a Sunday

....this song. It's a favorite in my house right now and is guaranteed to get everybody up and moving. Kind of like this. (And yes, that IS Bubba.)

....sitting on the sofa with Mr. Daddy watching this. While eating a heaping pile of nachos expertly made by Mr. Daddy. Bonus: the kids are in bed. I told Mr. Daddy it was almost like we were on a date! It was fun. Only drawback? I forgot to eat the guacamole I sent Mr. Daddy to the store for earlier.

....Two Buck Chuck. I'm not a wine snob and I don't know much about wine at all. But I know what I like and the Cabernet was good. And what's not to like for $2.99?

Bubba and Punkin' eating their lunch after church like, dare I say it? Angels? No muss, no fuss. And then Sunday afternoon quiet time. Ahhhh.

I've always hated interviews. Well, to clarify I've always hated job interviews, but today el-e-e had this little interview meme on her site. And it looked like fun so I asked her to interview me. And now, I can interview YOU, if you so desire.

So here are the rules: Leave me a comment (you, yes you) saying “Interview me.” I will respond by emailing you or leaving a comment with five questions. I get to pick the questions. If you don’t have a valid email address on your blog, please provide one. You will update your blog with a post containing your answers to the questions. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

Here are the questions el-e-e gave me.

1. For a re-invigorating-your-life type vacation (let's say 10 days), would you choose a) a mountain retreat with skis in-hand, b) a beach getaway with swim-up bar, or c) a good old-fashioned sight-seeing trip abroad? Well, since I have no earthly idea how to ski and the thought of learning is truly frightening, AND I hate to be cold, I'm definitely going with the beach. PLUS the swim-up bar. Preferably with something cold and fruity to drink. Or a Corona with a lime. And while we're fantasizing, I'm going to give myself a perfect bikini bod. The thought of a sight seeing trip abroad is tempting, but the thought of jet lag does NOT appeal.

2. What inspired you to start blogging? Do you share your blog with friends and family? Why or why not? I've always wanted to write. If anyone asked me "What is your dream job?" I'd always reply that I wanted to be writer. But I never actually did any writing. Then I started reading a couple of blogs. And then I met some real, live published writers who encouraged me to write. And blogging seemed like a good way to start. No pressure, you know? I do share my blog with friends and family. I started out doing it because I wanted to get feedback on my writing. My mom is very honest and I appreciate that. She will tell me if something's bad (that's not to say that I like to hear it, but I appreciate it). I have other family members who read and comment occasionally, but I don't really know if they read every day or just every now and then.

3. What toppings do you like on your pizza? Thin crust or Pan? Should pizza be paired with beer, Coke, or Red Wine? I love veggie pizza. My dream pizza is a thin-ish crust (like Mellow Mushroom) with mushrooms, artichokes, spinach, tomatoes, and onions. Yummy! I really don't like to drink beer with food, so I prefer my pizza with coke. BUT, I am VERY particular about how my coke is poured. You can't just slosh it in the glass! It loses all its fizz! You have to pour it slowly down the side of the glass (just like beer!) for optimum fizz retention. There's nothing better than ice-cold coke served in a real glass over ice. Aaaah!

4. Who is your favorite cartoon character and why? I would definitely have to say Bugs Bunny. He defines the Saturday mornings of my childhood. And the cartoons were so intelligent.

5. If you had time to take an "enrichment" type of class, what would you take? Basket weaving? Guitar lessons? Victorian literature? Quantum physics? I'm tempted to say Victorian literature because that is one of my favorite eras. But since I've already taken a couple of classes in college, I'm going to say basket weaving. In fact, today at work I told a co-worker that I would definitely benefit from some basket weaving right about now -- something mindless, where your fingers can do all the work and let your mind wander. Do you think they would let me take the class in a white, padded room somewhere?

So, that's me. In a nutshell. Now it's your turn. If you want.

And now for an important announcement

It has come to my attention that many of the writers of the blogs I read on a regular basis, as well as many of the commenters on this here blog (yes, a lot of you are the same people, but I digress) are from the same general area. And an idea was born.

I think us girls (we girls?) should take a trip. I haven't yet decided what we should call ourselves. So far all I've come up with "Ladies who Blog, and Also Happen to Live in the Southeast"(or LWBAHLS, pronounced "Lowballs" but truthfully, the sound of that is not really what I'm going for here. (Disclaimer: I don't want to exclude any of my regular readers who don't happen to live nearby. All of you are certainly welcome to come if you can make it. However, as most of us are moms and are living, shall we say, financially creative lives, I know it's probably not possible. But you are invited and we would love to have you!)

Anyway, my original concept for the trip was for a weekend getaway to the mountains. We could split the cost of the cabin and all have a lovely time getting to know one another, in, you know, real life. Wacky concept, huh? But then Lulu had a great idea and suggested a regional winery tour, which I must admit, is a fabulous idea! And although Lauren, and Tammy, and el-e-e have a bun in the oven, one teensy little sip of wine won't hurt them. Right? I mean, I think studies have shown that it's even good for them. They NEED to do this.

So, what do you think? And can you come up with a better name? 'Cause that one up there, well, she ain't so hot.

Here are some regional wineries we could visit, courtesy of the Winegrowers Association of Georgia.

1. Blackstock Vineyards, Dahlonega, Georgia. Does this look gorgeous or what?


2. Chateau Elan Winery, Braselton, Georgia.

3. Crane Creek Vineyards, Young Harris, Georgia. Mmmm. Red wine. Heaven!


4. Frogtown Cellars, Dahlonega, Georgia. This little place looks so charming! I just want to eat it! Erm....I mean drink it!


5. Habersham Winery, Helen, Georgia.

6. Montaluce, Dahlonega, Georgia.


7. Persimmon Creek Vineyards. Clayton, Georgia. One word. GORGEOUS!

8. Serenity Cellars. Cleveland, Georgia. How precious is this?


9. Sharp Mountain Vineyards. Jasper, Georgia. Their motto: The result is more than fine wine: it's an experience.

10. Tiger Mountain Winery. Tiger, Georgia. (I was going to add some photos, but their site was too slow to load!)

11. Wolf Mountain Winery. Dahlonega, Georgia. DANG! Their site says that one of mine and Mr. Daddy's favorite bands played there recently -- The Packway Handle Band. Awesome bluegrass! Awesome logo.



12. Three Sisters Vineyards. Dahlonega, Georgia. I gotta have me one of these t-shirts.


And finally,

13. Still Pond Vineyard and Winery. Arlington, Georgia. This one's kind of out of the way. Maybe we could save it for another weekend!

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The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

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10 Things I would tell College Girls

I live in a college town and spend a fair amount of time on campus. I see lots of young girls. Lots and lots of young girls. Which I may have mentioned before can be very hard on the ego of a 35 year old woman. Have you ever tried being 32 and pregnant in a college town? If not, I don't recommend it.

I've come up with some advice for college girls. I'd like to hold a class -- you know, like the "health" class we had where all the girls went into one room and all the boys went into another. I could save some serious time if I could just lay all this out one time. Some of these are based on my own experiences. Some just from casual observation. I'm not sayin' which is which.

1. You do look hot in those skimpy, skimpy shorts and tank top. But you also look like a slut. Unless of course that's the look you're going for. And you know what? The guys (the good ones anyway) think you look like a slut, too. (Seriously, girls. I think I had more on at my last gyno appointment).

2. You think you're fat now? Get a load of yourself in ten years. You'll look back at pictures of yourself now and weep. Weep, I tell you.

3. Go ahead. Drink those beers. Eat that pizza at midnight. Enjoy it while you can. Because the ol' metabolism? She stops working at 30. Don't believe me? Wait and see. Wait and see.

4. That summer abroad you want to do? Go for it! That guy that you think is the love of your life will either be there when you get back or not. And if he's not? It won't be the end of your life. I promise. It will probably even a good thing. (Also, don't let your mom go in your place because you think she's older and she might not get another chance. She will go at least twice more while you have yet to go at all. Not that I'm speaking from experience or anything. Ahem.)

5. Don't screw over your girlfriends for the sake of some boy. He's probably not worth it. If he bolts, you're going to need your girlfriends. Even if he is "the one," follow the advice of Khalil Gibran -- "Let there be spaces in your togetherness." Everybody needs some breathing room. Even you.

6. Don't skip class to hang with some boy. The actual amount of time you spend in class is miniscule compared to the amount of free time you have. There's plenty of time during the course of week for the two of you to spend time together. And you know what? It's a whole lot easier to bring that GPA down than it is to get it back up.

7. Don't get drunk. A drunk woman is NOT a pretty sight. You might think you're the life of the party. And you might be for a while. But there comes a point where the life of the party starts to look just plain ridiculous. Guys really don't want to hold your hair while you throw up. And it's not safe. I'm not saying don't drink. Just don't get drunk.

8. Those 15% discounts that are offered if you open up a store credit card right now? Not. worth. it. You say you'll pay them off. But you won't. Unless you do. And if you can do that and stick to it, great. Don't charge anything that you can't pay back right away. Your credit score? Just like your GPA. A whole lot easier to bring down than bring up.

9. Live by yourself for a year. It may be the hardest thing you've ever done, but do it. By the time you're done, you'll know who you are. And who you're not. And you'll prove to yourself that you can take care of yourself.

10. Volunteer. Find something you're passionate about and volunteer. The alternative? Sitting around your dorm or your apartment, eating. Doing nothing. One day when you're chained to a desk and you've got so many responsibilities, you'll WISH you had time to volunteer.

That is all. ;)

Bend it Like Beckham? Uh. Not so much!

So tonight was Bubba's first soccer game. We all piled in the car and headed down to the local soccer fields, at which there were at least 6 different soccer games about to commence all starring 4 to 6 year olds. If someone wanted to watch the chaos theory in action, I can give them directions to these soccer fields! And I'm just talking about all the parents trying to find out which of the six fields our game is on!

Bubba has been pumped all day about his first soccer game. He just got his jersey on Saturday and he's been telling everybody about his first game. We had to rush home from school, throw on our soccer clothes, grab the team snacks because SOMEBODY signed us up for snack duty for the VERY FIRST game. I have no idea what possessed me to do such a thing. As soon as I put my name on the first line I immediately got snack anxiety -- what should I bring? I've never done snacks before. What if the other parents talk about my snacks behind my back (hey, a rhyme!) What if it's too much snack? Not enough? Do I need to bring drinks, too?! So much pressure!

We raced to the field to make it in time for our 6:00 start and Mr. George, the awesome, ever-patient (Saint George!) coach is already there, high fiving all the players as they arrive. And of course, we had to document this momentous occasion. Here's Bubba Beckham in his uniform:

(Awww, look. He closes his eyes in photographs just like his mommy does.) I've mentioned before what a complete sap I am and I have to admit seeing my little man run around in his big boy soccer uniform brought just the teensiest, tinsiest tear to my eye. Sniff!

Mr. George gathered the team for their pre-game peptalk. Everybody put their hands in the center and yelled in their roughest, toughest voices "TEAM ATTACK!"


And that was the peak of Bubba's excitement. Apparently he gets really psyched up BEFORE the game, but after it starts? Eh. Not so much.

What Bubba likes to do is wander. And lift his shirt. AND his shorts (Look! Power Rangers underwear!) AND pick his nose. And beatbox (have I mentioned that Bubba always has a tune running through his head? And sounds coming out of his mouth similar to this?) He will occasionally run after the ball, but only after he hears us yelling from the sidelines "Run, Bubba, run!" (Wait, that sounds kind of familiar!)

And good lord is he slow. When he runs he looks like he's running through molasses. Mr. Daddy and I tried to determine if his natural speed setting is turned to "slowpoke" or if perhaps it was the oversized jersey and oversized soccer shorts that were creating wind resistance and were slowing him down! We settled on "slowpoke" -- after all, his other nickname is Slowpoke MacGillicuddy.

I think Bubba actually likes the IDEA of soccer much more than he likes the actual playing of said soccer. I don't think he ever realized that there would actually be OTHER KIDS out there. All, you know, trying to get the ball from AWAY from him (these 4 to 6 year olds haven't really grasped the concept of an "assist" yet). He doesn't like it AT ALL when someone tries to get the ball from him. And if you think about it, it does go against everything we've been teaching them since they first uttered the word "MINE!" I mean, it's definitely not sharing. Someone just runs up and takes the ball from you. It's no wonder that Bubba's first response is to cry out in indignation "Hey, he took my ball from me!" It's early days yet I know, but I'm not sure that soccer is Bubba's game. Do you think there's a future for a beat-boxing, break-dancing soccer player? I don't think David Beckham has ANYTHING to worry about!

Fear and loss

A couple of you asked me to update you on my friend. I'm very sad to report that she died. Writing that seems so cold, so clinical. There is no way to write those words so that they can convey even one iota of the confusion and sadness I feel. Even I as I write it my mind can't comprehend it. Even though I went to the funeral home and attempted in some small way to offer comfort to her family, I still can't make it seem real. Calling her my friend in some way feels false because truthfully, other than speaking in passing at the local county fair last year, I haven't talked to Leslie in years. But she was more than an acquaintance. In high school I definitely would have called her a friend. She was a fringe member of the nerd herd and definitely another smart girl.

Friday night I went to the funeral home for the visitation. I waited in line for two hours to have a chance to let her family know what a special person I thought she was. Mr. Daddy wanted to know why I felt such an urgency to go when I hadn't seen or talked to her in ages. But I'd known this girl -- this woman -- all my life. We went to camp together as children, played Little League softball together, went to middle and high school together. I felt I owed it to her and to her family to let them know that she meant something to me.

And I have to tell you that going took every fiber of my being. Not only because I was worried about what to say -- what do you say to a mother and father and young husband who have just lost their daughter, wife, other than I'm sorry. But also because it forced me to face my greatest fear. And that is that something will happen to me and I won't live to see my children grow up. I think about this a lot. I don't mean I dwell on it daily, but here's why I think about it.....my grandmother died at the age of 37 from cancer when my mother was only 7 months old (this was in 1940). All my life I've known this fact, but the reality of it only hit home a few years ago. I was going through some boxes in my mom's house and I came across two small boxes bound together. One was a box full of lacy, handsewn, smocked baby clothes, and the other was full of cards and telegrams that were sent to my grandfather at my grandmother's death. I wasn't even a mother then, but the absolute sadness of the situation hit me with such force that I began to sob. What must it be like to carry and give birth to a beautiful baby and know that there is a great likelihood that you won't live to see it grow up. Now that I'm a mother, I can't even really think about such a thing for very long without feeling like I'm about to suffocate. I literally have to force the thoughts from my mind.

Truthfully, this fear is greater for me than the fear of something happening to my children. I must confess that as I wrote that sentence I feel like I need to be crossing my fingers, knocking on wood, biting my tongue and throwing salt over my shoulder. Am I tempting the gods too much to even admit such a thing? Will they come and take my children just to show me how wrong I am? I know my fears are irrational, but I can't help them.

Leslie's children were at the funeral home. I only saw two of them, but I believe they were all there. And they seemed so unaware. Which is normal, I think, but heartbreaking all the same. My mother's father died when she was seven years old and she says that she can remember thinking "Why is everybody so sad?" and wondering why her older brother, who was 17 at the time, was crying. Leslie's oldest is 8. What will her memories be of her mother? What of the youngest, who is 2? That child will likely have no memories of it's mother -- how much she loved all of them, how patient she was with them, what a good person she was. And that is my fear for my own children. I cannot stand the thought of day going by without being able to hug them and kiss them and tell them how much I love them. Or the thought of them growing up without knowing how much their lives made MY life. While I was getting ready to go to the funeral home, Bubba, Punkin', Mr. Daddy and I were all dancing around in the kitchen to a silly song we'd downloaded. It seemed so incongruous and I couldn't help but think of Leslie's children and it was all I could do not to sweep everyone into my arms and run somewhere to a deep dark cave and hide. Yet at the same time I wanted to keep dancing and celebrate the life we have here together. Because we are truly blessed.

So, go. Hug. Dance. Kiss. Love. Celebrate. Every day.

And the winner is....

Laurel! Congratulations! I'm sorry it's taken me so long to post the winner and the answers, but I'll post more about the why of that later. Laurel, if you'll email me your physical address, I'll drop the bracelet in the mail to you. Email email redacted.
Here are the answers:

1. Shag -- One of my all time favorites and a great movie to watch with your girlfriends.

2. The Jerk -- I love me some Steve Martin!

3. Sixteen Candles -- This is a classic in my house from Long Duk Dong. Our other favorite is "No more yanky my wanky."

4. Fast Times at Ridgemont High. Sean Penn as Spicoli. I'm not sure Sean Penn has ever topped that!

5. Bring It On! - Mr. Daddy couldn't believe I was actually listing this one but I LOVE this movie. I will watch it whenever it's on.

6. Fargo. I love most anything from the Coen brothers. This one is so dark and hilarious. We have several faves from this movie "This is MY deal, Wade" and "Is that your accomplice in the woodchipper?"

7. O' Brother Where Art Thou - another fave Coen brothers offering (plus it has George Clooney in it!!). We have several faves from this one as well -- "We found a whole gopher village" and "Damn, we're in a tight spot!"

8. The Princess Bride. I think I can quote this movie from start to finish. Too many favorites to list.

9. Raising Arizona. Yet ANOTHER Coen brothers movie. Plus, it has Holly Hunter in it. My other fave "My fi-ance left me."

10. Forest Gump.

11. Pretty in Pink. How could she not love Duckie?!? When he came in lip synching "Try a Little Tenderness" my heart just melted.

12. The Breakfast Club. Was there ever a better bad boy than Judd Nelson's Bender?

13. French Kiss. I love me some Kevin Kline, too!

There you have it! Thanks for playing!

First of all, thanks to all the nice ladies who left comments and compliments about my hairs. You girls are just so great. The only problem now is that my head is so swollen from all those compliments that I can barely keep it balanced atop my scrawny little neck!

Also, I finally figured out why that first picture bothered me so much. It's me, but it's....off...somehow. Distorted. I finally realized that it looks like I'm looking at myself in a Christmas tree ball ornament. You know how it makes you look all fun-house-mirrory. With your nose kind of pulled out and your head kind of squished. It's not quite THAT bad, but it's definitely off. In my opinion. And y'all, I have spent YEARS looking at this face and that nose is NOT right. And if those of you who actually know me think that it is an accurate representation...well, I don't want to hear about it! :)

Anyhoo, today's Thursday Thirteen are 13 of my favorite lines from 13 of my favorite movies. And I'm going to have a littel contest. You have to guess which movie they're from. And I'm going to leave it up to your sense of honor to see how many you ACTUALLY know without using The Google. The person who submits the most right answers by 5:00 on Friday will win a little something. And I mean a VERY little something. Remember when I wrote this? Well, I got very, um, excited and went and ordered a few of these:

If you win and you don't want one, please just pretend you do and you can chunk it in the trash when it arrives in your mailbox.

So without further ado, here they are. Again, they are not in the order of my favorite-ness. Not sure I could do that.

1. "Y'all, I'm wild. I guess I'e always been wild. I just didnt' know it."

2. "Hey, there's something wrong with these cans!"

3. "I bet the boys chase you around aprenty."

4. "Dude, that was my SKULL!"

5. "I am a choreographer. That's what I do. You are cheerleaders. Cheerleaders are dancers who have gone retarded. What you do is a tiny, pathetic subset of dancing. I will attempt to turn your robotic routines into poetry, written with the human body. Follow me, or perish, sweater monkeys."

6. "Found a clue, Margie?" "No, just gotta barf."

7. "Well, ain't this place a geographical oddity?! Two weeks from everywhere!"

8. "You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means."

9. "I think we got the best one."

10. "I'm sorry I ruined your Black Panther party."

11. "His name is Blaine?! That's not a name. That's a major appliance!"

12. "So it's sorta social, demented and sad, but social. Right?"

13. "Fester, fester, fester. Rot, rot, rot."

So there you have it. Let the games begin!


Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!


The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

View More Thursday Thirteen Participants



Time out for a serious note

My best friend just emailed me to tell me about a girl we went to high school with. Leslie is in the hospital in ICU in a coma and on a respirator. She has been diagnosed with West Nile Virus. Leslie is a teacher at my home town high school and is mother to 4 small children. Her family very strongly believes in the power of prayer and is asking everyone to please pray for Leslie and her family during this time. So, if you're so inclined to pray, please pray for Leslie.

Me! New and Improved!

Well, here it is....the moment of truth! I basically went with the "Katie," with a few modifications (bangs, for instance). Actually, I took my photo of Katie (Selma went in the trash, unfortunately!) as well as the photo that Lulu had at the top of her post yesterday. And the stylist was great. I love having a stylist that I can say "Okay, here are the good things about my hair (some natural wave)" and "Here are the bad things about my hair (terrible flyaways! baby fine!)", give her a general outline of what I want (some style, please!) and have her go town on my head and love it when she's done.

Drumroll, please.....


And....


The true test will come tomorrow morning when I will determine if I can recreate this smooth, shiny creation! Of course I don't have the myriad of extravagantly expensive Bumble & Bumble products to assist me in my quest, either!

And this new haircut does sort of signal the start of a brand new me. I actually went to the gym that I've been paying for for 8 or 9 months now and never been to! (In my defense, I only pay $11/month, but STILL!) I tried an elliptical machine for the very first time and managed to not kill myself or anyone else around me! And I liked it, although I think the time would have passed much faster if I'd had a good book or a magazine. Or possibly even some headphones so I could hear what was being said on any one of the 6 televisions mounted overhead instead of trying to read very poorly typed/spelled closed captioning!

And I've been watching what I eat. I've been applying some of the tricks I learned in weight watchers a couple of years back -- measuring out or eyeballing portion sizes, although not actually counting points. I don't want to get stuck in this LaBrea Tar Pit of a rut that I've been in. It's a downhill slope and it just gets harder and harder to pull yourself out the deeper you get in.

Punkin' had her two year checkup at the end of last week. The pediatrician said she talks amazingly well for her age (imagine THAT!). But he also said that he's changing his guidelines for parents. He no longer urges physical activity, he prescribes it. He said we should think of it just like brushing our teeth. It's a MUST! So I don't want to tell my kids "Do as I say, not as I do" as I slothfully loll about on the sofa. I want us all to be healthy together. So here's to the new me!

It is done!

The winning haircut design has been chosen and scissors applied to locks....and I love it! I'll post pictures later tonight.

Absorbent and yellow and porous is he!

Okay, so Bubba's not yellow, and he's not porous and he's not absorbent -- at least not in the traditional sense as attested to by the fact that he's STILL wearing pull ups to bed at 4.5 years old -- but he is absorbent in the fact that he is listening ALL the time and he absorbs everything we say. And you don't even have to squeeze him very hard for it all to come pouring back out!

The scary thing is that you just never know what will come pouring out when. We've had our fair share of palmetto bugs (aka ginormous, humongous roaches) this year, as well as ants, and I just KNOW he's telling everybody at school "We have roaches all over our house!!" He did bombard some poor lady at Barnes and Noble with our horrific tale of ants taking over our car.

I know this is a phase that children go through. In fact, I remember once as a child I told someone from our church that someone had been drinking my mother's liquor. To clarify, my mother is not a drinker. She only kept some Canadian Mist around to drink in her eggnog at Christmas. However, at some point I overheard her remarking that the level in the bottle was noticeably lower and it seemed like a big deal. I don't remember WHY I felt the need to share, but I did. As a mother this story makes me cringe because several months ago when I woke Bubba up early one morning to get ready for school he said, "Mommy, where's daddy?"
"In the living room drinking coffee, probably." I said.
"Or beer." Bubba stated matter-of-factly. Ooohhh. I can just hear THAT one being repeated at daycare!

And they not only absorb our words, they absorb our personalities to some degree as well. Mr. Daddy is an old man (and I say that with love in my heart). And by "old man" I mean he's a curmudgeon (and I say THAT with love in my heart as well). He's like the old man in the neighborhood who tells all the kids to keep off the grass. Or turn their music down. He's been known to yell at cars speeding down the street to slow down. So Saturday, Bubba was picking up sticks in the yard and taking them down to the street to earn a little pocket money (which doesn't stay in his pocket very long. Hmmmm. Wonder where he learned THAT habit?). He was standing probably 15 feet from the edge of the street when a car came zooming down the road and Bubba yelled out "Slow down!" Pause. "You almost hit me!" That's an "old man" in the making if I ever heard one!

And don't think Punkin' is going to be left out. She is the original Miss Copycat (wait, is that an oxymoron?). She copies everything everybody says. Sometimes it's cute. Sometimes not so much. This afternoon as we were waiting for the light to change, all of a sudden Punkin' yells out "Go, people!" I wonder where in the world she heard that?!?

A brand new me

Well, that didn't go very well now, did it? Let's not talk of it again.

Okay since everybody else jumped off the bridge I had to, too (everybody being Lulu and Sophie) . I went and Simpsonized myself. Here I am in all my Springfieldian glory...


This was one of the few times I wish I wore glasses all the time so that I wouldn't have to choose from their very skimpy selection of eyebrows. I know thick eyebrows are in, but DUDE! I also went ahead and made my hair a little shorter because guess what? I'm getting a hair cut on Tuesday! At a real salon! I'm so psyched because I haven't gotten a "real" hair cut in quite some time. I used to get my hair done at this really trendy place here in town and the girl did an awesome job. When I first started going there I only had one child and they only charged me $40 for a haircut. That was what I paid for my haircuts in Savannah, so it seemed reasonable. Slowly but surely, appointment by appointment, the cost kept going up. The last time I got my hair cut there was not long after Punkin' was born. It was $60 for just a shampoo, cut and blowdry. With tip it was $70. I'm sorry, but that is just TOO much for a haircut. I KNOW it's harder than it looks, but $60??!! Seriously? So, I had to cut ties (pun intended) with that salon.

And finding a new hairdresser is a big deal, right? I know in a recent post I was all "what's the big deal, it'll grow back" but I still want to maintain some semblance of style, you know? Even if they cut it off to a nub I still want it to be a stylish nub. So, I did what anybody would do. I stopped a stranger on the street and asked her where she got her hair cut. Don't tell me you've never done it. Or at least wanted to! Actually, she wasn't a complete stranger -- her son(?) goes to the same daycare that Punkin' goes to. She had this amazingly cute hairstyle and so I asked. And you'll never believe where she gets it cut! Cost Cutters for $11.99!! So, I went and got a great cut, too. I wore it in that style for a while, but I get tired of the same hairstyle month after month and I couldn't decide what I wanted to do next. I've been back a time or two and she's always done what I asked but I haven't been blown away.

And so now, my mother has found a new stylist and she (my mother, not the stylist) has graciously and generously given me the money to get my hair cut with this girl too. My mother is self-admittedly obsessive about her hair so for my mother to recommend someone is a big deal. So I'm excited. I'm contemplating two haircuts. I need some feeback because Mr. Husband is like, "Whatever you want." I'm thinking either the new Katie Holmes (but NOT the "Posh"):


Or Selma Blair from a couple of years ago:


I really like the Selma Blair cut, but I've recently met a new mom at church and her hair is cut in a similar fashion. We have a playdate tentatively set for Saturday and I don't want her to think I've gone all "Single White Female" on her.

I've had my hair cut short before (Mia Farrow in Rosemary's Baby short, in fact) and I really liked it. But I was thinner then. And going short again makes me a little nervous. But I kind of think I need something to wake me up. Shake me up, if that makes any sense. I've gotten into such a rut. Maybe a new haircut will make me get off my ass and go to the gym. Maybe it will revitalize me. What do you guys think? Please feel free to share your thoughts in the comments. Which one looks like the new me?

A little slice of heaven

So last night I found a little slice of heaven. Driving with the windows down, just a hint of fall in the air, one of my favorite songs on the radio, no one complaining about the wind in their face or demanding kids songs. Ahhhh.....heaven.

I think I'm on the mend....

Okay, so I've kind of had the mullygrubs this week. I think it was because my Labor Day weekend was so full of activities that I didn't get any rest at all. Don't get me wrong -- they were fun activities. But I think I spent a total of about 2 hours in my own home over the course of last weekend and I think I cleaned my kitchen about 7 times in 2 days. The long weekend, coupled with a couple of nights not really sleeping all that well (no, not Punkin' this time -- just too much caffeine I think) and well, what I had was a good ol' fashioned case of the mullygrubs.

So, I took matters into my own hands and took today as a personal day from work. This is the first time in ages that I've been home alone when I wasn't home with one or both sick kids or I wasn't sick myself. I had to get up to take Punkin to school. It's nigh on impossible for Mr. Daddy to take both kids and get to work on time himself. Bubba's school has a VERY narrow window of time when you can drop the kids off in the "Kiss and Ride" lane and because Bubba has been pretty mullygrubby this week, too, we're trying not to walk him inside unless we just have to.

I actually think there has been some mullygrubbishness going around, like a virus. Punkin' had it last week (along with an ACTUAL virus) where NOTHING suited her. If her cereal bar broke as she was eating it you would have thought the world was about to end. When she woke up from her nap, nothing offered as a snack was pleasing even though EVERYTHING in the house was offered.

And on Tuesday, when Mr. Daddy dropped Bubba off at school, he had a major tantrum, screaming and crying, not wanting Daddy to leave. Huh? That is sooo not like him. (Thus the "kiss and ride" thing). I called and talked to his teacher that morning and we decided that perhaps he wasn't just feeling 100%. That afternoon when I picked him up I asked him was he okay, was he feeling sad about something? "No," he said. "I was just feeling grumpy." I guess we all are allowed to be grumpy now and then. Then Punkin' piped up and said "I grumpy, too." Bubba and I laughed and I said, "You're not grumpy." "I grumpy," she asserted. "Noooo. You're not grumpy. You're silly!" I laughed. "I GRUMPY" she yelled! Okay then!

So anyway, I came back today from taking Punkin to school and went back to bed. And slept, for the most part, if you don't count the $@%@(#%P(@# dogs next door barking their fool heads off at who knows what for about half an hour, for about 2 hours. I got up, showered and then met my mom for a lovely lunch at a local Thai restaurant. And then I went and bought new Bulldog shirts for both kids -- we have to be properly attired, you know! And now I'm getting some kid-free time at the computer. I may even watch Oprah. Or maybe Ellen.

Tomorrow we're tailgating. We'll watch the Dawgs whoop up on old Steve Spurrier (boo! hiss!) Life is good.

Thursday Thirteen - My favorite blogs!

Thirteen Things about Madame Queen Let me just say right off the bat that I'm kind of snap judgement (and judgemental) kind of person. If something is really, really popular I automatically think that it must be trash. If the general population is going ga-ga over it, it must be an opiate for the masses and not worth my time. And many, many times I've been wrong. Grey's Anatomy -- oh, it just another trashy soap opera type show. Wrong! Now I'm addicted and can't wait for the new season. American Idol -- give me a break! Who cares?!! I DO! I got hooked on the season of Chris Daughtry, et al and now I actually vote! Like a teenager! The other thing I was extremely scornful of was blogs. Who cares what random Joe or Joanne Schmo thinks about...whatever. Who wants to spend their time reading some random stranger's thoughts about stuff. I DO! I hereby officially apologize to all bloggers out there and officially declare myself one of you! I Love you guys! So, for my very first Thursday Thirteen, I'm listing my 13 favorite blogs. They're not in any particular order except for the first one. The first one is the one that started it all! 1. Faster Than Kudzu by author Joshilyn Jackson. Someone loaned me her first novel, gods in Alabama and I noticed in the back that she had a website. So I went, read some of her old posts and I was hooked. And hers was the only one I read for a very long time. I don't know why I never explored any others. But one day I was bored and I started clicking through some of the other links. And the rest, as they say, is history. 2. Woulda Coulda Shoulda I think the very day that I started reading this blog I noticed that Mir was moving to my town. Wha? I know how hard it is to move to a new town and not know anyone, so I emailed her and offered to help out with the "getting to know the town" kind of stuff. We emailed back and forth for a while and we've gotten together a couple of times and you know what? She's just as nice and as funny as heck as she is in her blog. Some of her posts have made me howl with laughter. 3. A Hole in the Fence by Sophie. I honestly can't remember how I came across this blog, but I'm so glad I did. Her life seems so similar to mine. Plus, she's got a Pumpkin and I've got a Punkin'! She's also got a very dry sense of humor which I appreciate. And last but not least, she gave me my Blog Star award yesterday -- my first blogging award and I'll always treasure it! 4. Lulu's Laundry by Lulu. Again, I can't remember exactly how I came across her blog, but this post hooked me. I think this is one of the funniest things I've ever read in my entire life. If you can read this without crying with laughter, there is something seriously wrong with you! 5. Suburban Turmoil by Lindsey. Lindsey used to be a television reporter and still works off an on in Nashville. Her post has just enough celebrity flash to satisfy my need for all things trashy, but intelligent enough to keep me coming back. 6. Precarious Tomato Mir turned me on to this blog because the author is also a local. I'm so glad she did because Tammy is hilarious. I've met her a couple of times, too, and she too is so nice and funny in person. And she's just recently announced that she's expecting her first child so she's opened herself up for ALL KINDS of mothering advice. 7. Maresydoats I found this blog through Faster Than Kudzu. Mar won a Blogging for Books award for this post. It so perfectly captured how I feel sometimes -- plus, the phrase "snuggly little snoozer" was just too perfect not to add to my vocabulary. Mar doesn't post often, which is disappointing for those of us who like her blog, but she's a busy lady, so I understand. 8. Miss Doxie I've seen a lot of people list Miss Doxie on their faves list - and there's a reason. She's funny as hell. She doesn't post very much either, but when she does, look out! 9. Daily Tragedies Again, not sure how I found her, but I started checking in and like the way she said things. And she's not afraid to be very introspective, which I admire. Plus, she likes the Beastie Boys and how can you not like that? 10. My Own Circle of Confusion A lot of the blogs that I'm drawn to have similar themes -- working (or sometimes non-working) mom, small kids, harried life. Anyway, I enjoy it. I keep going back. She only has two sets of clean sheets for the kids' beds too. I feel so much better! 11. The Tea Party Place Laurel was one of the very first people that I didn't actually know who commented on my blog! I was thrilled, so of course I checked her blog out and found that we have so many things in common. Once when her post mentioned that her son was sick and then she didn't post for about 5 or 6 days I actually got quite concerned. Fortunately, everything was okay -- well, as okay as 2 kids with strep can be. You should check out the pictures of her recent trip to her hometown. Amazing! 12. Stay At Home Mom Going Quickly Insane I swear, when I read her post I wondered if I was secretly blogging in my sleep under an assumed name. It was truly freaky. Go read this post titled "Am I Normal" and you will know what I look like in the mornings just trying to get out of the house. Freakily, freakily similar. In a good way! :) And finally, 13. Full Hands Mom This mom is an even newer blogger than I am, but I think she's doing a great job so far. I know for a fact that she has stepped way outside of her comfort zone to start blogging and for that I want to give her this... Keep up the good work! You're a star!

Get the Thursday Thirteen code here!


The purpose of the meme is to get to know everyone who participates a little bit better every Thursday. Visiting fellow Thirteeners is encouraged! If you participate, leave the link to your Thirteen in others comments. It’s easy, and fun! Be sure to update your Thirteen with links that are left for you, as well! I will link to everyone who participates and leaves a link to their 13 things. Trackbacks, pings, comment links accepted!

View More Thursday Thirteen Participants

Why the world needs Superman

But first, look what I got today!

Sophie, over at A Hole in the Fence gave me this today! Today was Monday all day long (even though it's Tuesday) so that was a much needed pick me up. Plus, I can't wait to check out some of the other blogs she's recommended. I don't know about you, but I think I'm certifiably addicted to these here blog thingies! (I'm going to pass on this Blogging Star later in the week. I've got grand plans!!)

But back to Superman. Superman Returns was on HBO (I think) this weekend. Bubba is very into Superman so we let him watch it, not really realizing that there were cuss words in it until we heard Bubba repeat this little gem -- "What the hell is that!?" So, we had to have the little talk about "just because you hear it on the tv doesn't make it alright to say" and so on and so forth. But while he was watching it I kind of got hooked in too. I was sitting in the middle of the living room floor folding clothes and I was watching the scene where Lois, her son and her new fiance are about to drown in the sinking ship. All of sudden, cue the music. And there's Superman to save the day. And all of a sudden I'm just bawling. Tears are pouring down my face and I have to leave the room for fear of freaking my children out.

What was THAT about? I've always been a little bit of a crier, but Superman? I started thinking about it and I think it's because I wish Superman was real. I wish there was a superhero who could show up just in time to solve all the world's problems. Without getting into politics or political discussions, I wish there were a superhero who could save every soldier and every innocent civilian in Iraq, who could stop all the murders in Darfur, who could have used his super lung strength to hold up the levees in New Orleans or frozen that tidal wave in its place in Thailand and Indonesia. Or held the twin towers together with his bare hands.

And truthfully, I could use a little Superman in my own life. There are some days when the day to day minutiae of life just seems unbearable, when the task ahead seems insurmountable. I know these feelings are fed by exhaustion most of the time, but it would be so nice sometimes to have someone say "Don't worry, I've got you" as I fall from the top of the Daily Planet. I sometimes think that's the hardest thing about becoming an adult. You can no longer really look to someone else to protect you and fix all your problems, even if you're lucky enough to have your parents alive and living close by. YOU are the protector now. YOU are the fixer. YOU have to be the one to say "Don't worry, I've got you." And good Lord it's hard work. No wonder Superman had his Fortress of Solitude. Anybody know where I can get one of those?

Give me a break!

I'm a little bit of a tv junkie. I'm a reader, too, but I do love my televsion, particularly certain shows. For the last couple of years, in an effort to save money, Mr. Daddy and I have limited ourselves to basic -- VERY basic -- cable. For some obscene amount of money (considering the service), the cable company graciously provided us with something like 22 channels. Of those 22, 3 were Hispanic (I don't speak Spanish), 2 were shopping channels (I rarely buy anything off of television), and 2 were religious channels (I prefer to get my religion in person, thank you). So that left us with what? 15 channels? We watched a LOT of public television. Don't get me wrong, there are a lot of great shows on GPTV, but there are only so many episodes of Antiques Roadshow you can watch, you know?

So anyway, we recently celebrated our very slight decrease in childcare payments by getting a satellite and one of the most exciting things for me was the return of TLC. I love TLC. When Bubba was a newborn I spent many, many hours on the sofa, in a daze, watching episode after episode of A Wedding Story, followed by a couple of episodes of A Baby Story and then for good measure, a couple of episodes of A Makeover Story. But what I was most excited about was the return of What Not to Wear. I love, love, love Clinton and Stacy. I've always been a sucker for a good makeover, but what I love about them is how they really get the person invested in their makeover and genuinely try to help the person dress for their body and make them see for themselves how great they can look. I love the "rules." Everybody needs rules. And if you guessed that I watched with envy in my heart for a new $5000 wardrobe, you'd be right. I'm not ashamed to admit it.

So Friday night I sat down with glee and turned on WNTW. I came in on the middle of an episode about a girl who had super long hair. She was talking to the confessional camera about how she was going to try to talk Nick out of cutting her hair, that she "was pretty good at that sort of thing." Ultimately, though, she let him cut it and she was so happy with the results. And they all lived happily ever after.

I settled in to watch the next episode. It was going to be about a nurse who recently lost 20 lbs and was not dressing for her new body. The clips showed her having a MAJOR anxiety attack, crying and sniveling about how she "wanted her old clothes back." GIVE ME A BREAK, PEOPLE!

There was an episode on the other night about a rocker chick who practically went into hysterics because they wanted to color her hair. What is up with these people? Who is so tied to their ratty old clothes or their hair that they're not willing to be adventurous? It's just hair. If you cut it off, it will grow back. I apologize if I'm stepping on any toes, here, but I just can't imagine ever turning down such an opportunity. Good grief, if someone said to me "Hey, your style is terrible and we want to teach you how to dress. Here's $5000. Come to New York and let's go shopping" I'd say "Sweet! When do we leave?" I want to carpe as much diem as I possibly can.

So now I don't even know if I can watch this show anymore. Am I too much of a curmudgeon? Am I taking this all way too seriously? Carpe diem, people. Carpe diem.

Ick!

Is anybody else as freaked out by this as I am?



I just gave myself another major case of heebie jeebies! If you really, really want to know more about this, click here. But don't say I didn't warn you!