Even more stuff no one cares about

Review: Jesus Christ Superstar 2010

2010-02-04T17:13:00.004-05:00

We got to see this show last night for the second time. The first was appx 20 years ago. I’ll admit I wondered if, at age 66, Ted Neely could possibly still have it. The ‘it’ that he had in the movie. The ‘it’ that he had the first time we saw JCSS. The ‘it’ that made him the Jesus everyone’s wanted to see for so long he’s now been playing Jesus for longer than Jesus lived. Well … at first I wasn’t sure. His voice has changed a lot. It was deeper, somewhat richer, a bit husky. A very nice voice. But not the voice I remembered and loved. It grew on me though. But, after several songs, he hadn’t hit those high notes he was so famous for … and then he did. Wow. He’s still got it, baby. Other than Jesus, my favorite voices in the cast were Peter and Mary but they were all good.

The set was extraordinarily simple, but the lighting designer was a genius. He made sets out of lights.

If you get the chance, definitely go see this show. It won’t be the same as what you may remember. But it will be amazing.

Frozen fog?

2010-01-31T22:39:00.002-05:00

On Friday, we had 6-7" of snow. That was nice. The kids got a day off school and we were all pretty lazy all day. Who doesn't love a day like that from time time? Yesterday dawned bright and sunny. Not warm enough to melt all the snow, but enough to get it off the well-traveled streets. Today ... snow-covered ground still and a heavy fog. That looked quite odd. But pretty in its way. The weather dudes were calling it 'frozen fog'. Looks like fuzzy frost to me.

A New Adventure

2009-12-28T12:44:00.002-05:00

No, not blogging. That's an old, albeit drastically lapsed, adventure.

This is an entirely new adventure. About four weeks ago, I took up the viola. Now, I've never played any instrument, ever. Couldn't read a single note of music. I did remember the E-G-B-D-F and F-A-C-E thing from grade school music class. Odd the things you retain. But that turned out not to help substantially as viola is alto clef, so a bit different.

For about 20 years, I have internally bemoaned the fact that I never learned to play an instrument when I was young. This regret became sharper as my boys took up music in 6th grade, learning the bass and cello. Then, and I admit I was very slow on the uptake, it finally occurred to me that one doesn't HAVE to be 12 to learn music. One can start at any age. So, when hubby asked what I wanted for my birthday about a month ago, I told him a viola! He was surprised but willingly obliged. I immediately began lessons and fell in love. I can now read a whole eight notes. I can play basic, very basic, songs. I have miles and miles to go, but I'm having fun. And really that's the point.

Please, if you've ever said "I wish I had ...", stop wishing and start doing.

And, now, for your listening not-quite-enjoyment, my first concert. Disclaimer: a new string player can be quite painful to listen to. Also, Levi, the cellist, was a bit embarrassed to be in this video with me. Still, he did it. Thanks to Lane for the arrangements.

Now that ain't right

2009-04-10T08:44:00.002-04:00

I had to take our kitten into the vet recently. She had been spayed a few weeks ago and just needed her stitches out. (Yes, yay me! Responsible pet owner.) Anyway, as I sat there waiting for my turn, a man came in with his dog. He was a ZZ Top-looking dude if there ever was one. Seriously, he had the beard, dark glasses and stocking cap ... the works. He was built like a linebacker. And his dog? Was it a Rottweiler or a Doberman or even a Bulldog? No, oh no.

Trotting along behind him was a cute, little, blonde Cocker Spaniel with a pink collar and pink leash ... named Daisy.

That's. Just. Wrong.

2009-03-27T08:29:00.002-04:00

Spring Cleaning

2009-03-16T12:31:00.004-04:00

I'll admit, I've never really participated in that annual household tradition known as Spring Cleaning. Not that my house is an utter pigsty. Nor is it always so sparkling that such a clean sweep is never required. It's just that I'm more of an as-needed cleaner. For example, I might be lying on the couch watching TV one night, glance up, see the ceiling fan and say "Ewwww"! And that's when I clean that.

However, this year something spurred me to do an actual spring clean. It's spring break here and we're at home for the duration so it seemed a good time. I started this morning. I will go through one room per day, top too bottom, and clean it like a demon. And so I began with my bedroom. I did all the dusting, even those little crevices I often miss on a regular dust-up. I did ceiling fans, baseboards, windows, carpets, etc. I was feeling pretty good about it. Until ...

I noticed that two of our cats were supervising me the entire time. They followed me from spot to spot, avidly watching with somewhat confused looks as if they'd never seen me commit such unusual and, frankly, perverse acts. Sheesh. Nothing like being judged by a cat. Honestly! I'm insulted.

Stupid cats.

Oh, I Wish I'd Looked After Me Tits

2009-02-25T08:49:00.003-05:00

A new poem by Pam Ayres

Oh, I wish I'd looked after me dear old knockers,
Not flashed them to boys behind the school lockers,
Or let them get fondled by randy old dockers,
Oh, I wish I 'd looked after me tits.

'Cos now I'm much older and gravity's winning.
It's Nature's revenge for all that sinning,
And those dirty memories are rapidly dimming,
Oh, I wish I'd looked after me tits.

'Cos tits can be such troublesome things
When they no longer bounce, but dangle and swing.
And although they go well with my Bingo wings,
I wish I'd looked after me tits..

When they're both long enough to tie up in a bow,
When it's not the sweet chariot that swings low,
When they're less of a friend and more of a foe,
Then I wish I'd looked after me tits.

When I was young I got whistles and hoots,
From the men on the site to the men in the suits,
Now me nipples get stuck in the zips on me boots,
Oh, I wish I'd looked after me tits.

When I was younger I rode bikes and scooters,
Cruising around with my favourite suitors.
Now the wheels get entangled with my dangling hooters,
I wish I'd looked after me tits..

When they follow behind and get trapped in the door,
When they're less in the air and more near the floor,
When people see less of them rather than more,
Oh, I wish I'd looked after me tits.

Third Place ... not bad

2009-02-23T08:33:00.003-05:00

Lane entered his photo in the Wichita Eagle Great Outdoors Photo contest. He received third place. Check out some of the other finalists. I think he did pretty well to place third. Congrats Lane!

Finalists: http://www.kansas.com/628/gallery/708417.html

Pseudo-Reviews

2009-02-10T09:25:00.018-05:00

Just my thoughts on a few things ...

MOVIES

The Dark Knight - Yes, I know it's been out for a while. We originally saw it in the theater. I expected to be under-impressed with Heath Ledger's performance. You know how, when others build and build a book or movie, your expectations are often so high that you're somewhat disappointed when you finally see it? This was not the case in this instance. I thought Ledger was simply amazing in his role as the Joker. In fact, he was SO good, that I have refused to watch it again since it came out on DVD. I found him very disturbing and was frankly a bit upsetting. There are a number of great movies that I loved but which, due to various reasons, I refuse to ever watch a second time. This is one of those movies. Ledger blew me away in this movie but, for me, viewing it once is enough. See it. One time.

Grand Torino -Another one-time-only movie for me. Not that I didn't like it. Quite the opposite. I loved it. Again, I expected to be under-impressed with Clint Eastwood as a badass. Oh, I know he's the original badass but, let's face it, he's getting pretty old. I didn't think he'd be able to pull off the don't-F-with-me attitude of his younger years. I was wrong. At first, the extreme use of racial slurs was shocking to me. Thinking about it later, I realized that it was necessary to the whole stream of the movie for it all to make the emotional impact that it did. Definitely see it but be prepared for tons of bad language and racism.

Hamlet 2 - After all the seriousness of the above movies, rent this silly, little flick for some plain, old ridiculousness. Honestly, it's one of the dumbest movies I've seen in some time and well worth the rental price for that very reason. After watching the whole movie, we went back to the play scene over and over to rewatch.

Across the Universe - This one is going on my list as one of my favorite musicals of all time. The entire movie is based on The Beatles' music. I can't say that I was ever an especially big fan of their music. I mean, it was OK, but I wouldn't say I loved them. But I did love this movie. I loved how it took a variety of their songs and incorporated them all seamlessly into one story line. There are even two or three places (that I picked up anyway) where a brief bit of their music is played, but the song is never sung. In one scene, Jude is looking at a headline and the music in the background is playing and you can hear in your head "I read the news today, oh boy ..." Watch it, and then watch it a second time (and even a third) so that you pick up all the things that you missed the first time. And then download the soundtrack to your iPod. I know I did.

BOOKS

Confessor by Terry Goodkind - The final installment in the Sword of Truth series. If you haven't read this series, I recommend it. There are, I think, nine books. They are excellent. Well, except for this one. I had felt the entire series was very well-written and were excellent stories. Every single book drew me in and and got me very invested in the main characters. Until this one. I was frankly disappointed with what should have been an epic ending to an epic story. There were multiple places in this book where a character tries to explain a concept to another. For example, Nicci explaining why the Chainfire spell needed a sterile field. Apparently sometime between the last book and this one, everyone became idiots because in every single instance where something needed to be explained, it was explained over and over and over until I wanted to scream. Seriously. It seemed to me that at least 80% of this book consisted of people talking about what needed to be done, but not doing anything. Nothing was happening. For me, this book was a huge let-down. Now, I have to say, if you're interested in the series, don't let my comment stop you. My mom didn't feel that way about this book so maybe it was just me.

Just After Sunset by Stephen King - Stephen King. As far as I'm concerned, that's all that needs be said. This is a collection of short stories. Honestly, no one story stood out to me as amazing. Unlike some of his books, I don't think one of these stories will stay in my mind indefinitely as did some previous ones. However, King is plain and simply a great storyteller and any book of his, in my opinion, is worth a read.

Mistress of the Art of Death and The Serpent's Tale by Ariana Franklin - Excellent books, both. And not about what you might think. The first kind of sounds like she's a serial killer. No, Adelia is basically a forensic pathologist. Considering that they take place in medieval times, this is quite unusual for a female. Adelia, the main character, originally comes to Brittan to investigate a murder. Being a woman, she must pretend that her servant is the actual physician in order to avoid charges of witchcraft. Both books are beautifully written and great stories. Read them in order.

The Other Boleyn Girl by Philippa Gregory - Excellent book. Of course, I knew the basic story about Anne Boleyn, but reading about it in novel form brings it to life as never before. This was one of those can't-put-it-down books for me. Not only is the story highly entertaining, but the author seems to have done a masterful job of including many historical facts so that it's not merely a novel, but a lesson in the history of British monarchs as well. I have to say that I can't remember when I've both loved and hated a book so much at the same time. Loved because, as I said, it's a great story. Hated because it's sickening what the children of the upper classes were expected to do in order to advance their families. Definitely read it, but feel free to skip the movie. The movie was okay, and well-cast, but it should have been a mini-series. It was far to choppy to be satisfying if you've read the novel.

Now, if you see/read any of these, let me know what you thought!

Scarlet Fest

2009-01-27T11:02:00.005-05:00

A must-see event!

The full name is actually Scarlet's Mid-Winter Renaissance Festival. Lane and I attended this event because Dotti’s two belly dance troupes were dancing. She had warned us it was kind of weird. Man, oh man! We all came to the conclusion that they hold this thing just so they can have a reason to dress up in their costumes during the off season. And I don’t mean just the participants. A great many people who had simply come to look around were in costumes. There were the typical things you’d expect to see … Lords, Ladies, wenches, etc. There were some really great costumes and some that people had just barely made a pass at making a costume. And then there were all the …. um ….. “others”.

* Pirates were the largest representation by far. I suppose pirates at least fit into the era in which this event is supposed to represent. Jack Sparrow himself was there. Honestly, this guy had the look, the costume and the movements down! All except for the jeans he was wearing. Seriously. If you're going to go to THAT much work to duplicate a character, why would you not find some breeches? Not to mention that faire rumor is that the guy really thinks he's Jack Sparrow.

* We observed at least two Ninjas. This seemed "off" but then again, no one said this was limited to Renaissance Brittan.

* Zorro? Ditto the above I suppose

* A few men in kilts, including a Braveheart wannabe who slapped on a kilt with his work boots and Fruit of the Loom tee shirt and painted half his face red. Still, you'll hear no complaints from me on this one as I love a man in a kilt.

* A couple of revolutionary war soldiers. These just missed the renaissance by nearly a century.

* A cave woman. This chick missed the time-line mark by several millenia.

* Mermaids. Well, mermaids are just timeless, aren't they?

* A bear-trainer with his bear which was both cool and appropriate. Except that the bear actually acted like a bear. He was never cute and friendly with the myriad kids who came up to see him. So, was this guy very good in sticking in "character" as a bear? Or like Jack Sparrow and thinks he's really a bear? Seriously, at most events you would assume the former. At this one .....?

* A guy in a fox costume that is generally believed to be a “furry”. This would have been kind of funny (in a creepy way) except that, at one point, Lane said "I think that Fox is staring at me." And we think maybe he was.

* Several people that we had no idea what they were trying to be. One girl was wearing red and white striped socks that came up over her knees, a short, black skirt that had points and made you think of someone trying to dress like a sexy witch, a kimono blouse with a bustier over the top and a pirate hat. It's anyone's guess what she was supposed to be.

* Last, but not least creepy, was Marilyn Manson. Seriously, it had to have been him.

Honestly people, if you leave anywhere near Oklahoma City, please go to this event next year. It's fairly (pun intended) small so not a lot of things to do. You won't need them. Park a chair in a corner and watch people walk by. I promise you no end of amusement.

EDIT: Some chick posted this very shaky video of some of Scarlet Fest on You Tube. Sadly, most of the nuttier characters are not featured. You do, however, get a brief glimpse of Marilyn Manson and, more importantly, my beautiful sister dancing. At about 4:21 notice the one on the left in the purple. That's her.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hDZ4MYY7ahg

2009-01-20T08:51:00.000-05:00

Ma'am, I Salute You!

2009-01-14T17:52:00.003-05:00

I was at the grocery store yesterday picking up a few random items. In the produce section, an older woman stopped me to ask a question. She had to have been 70 at the bare minimum and I'm guessing that's a pretty conservative estimate. After a short chat, she introduced herself as Theda Lastnamewithheld. She then laughed and told me that her brothers were John, Joe and James. With three such traditional boy names, her silly parents named her Theda Bara. I believe I actually goggled.

"But," I sputtered, "She was a ... a .... "

"Vamp?" she supplied.

"Yes!" Still goggling.

She just laughed. "Yes, she was."

It was at this point that I finally gathered my wits about me and closed my gaping mouth but couldn't quite restrain a laugh. I told her that was hands-down the coolest thing I'd heard in a very long time. I mean, no offense, but for someone of her generation to name a child after someone as racy as Theda Bara ... well, that just rocks.

Pally Poems

2009-01-11T22:50:00.004-05:00

Levi was pretty bored in one of his classes Friday. It's one of those that give waaaaay too much time to get assignments done. So he wrote the following poems about his Paladin. Enjoy!

Some call us zealots,
wielders of the light.
Some know us as protectors,
the will of vengeance.
Those who would oppose us
say we are fanatics
of a lost cause
and a blind devotion.
But know this,
enemy of the kingdom,
scourge of humanity ...
none can withstand our faith.
- January, 2009

Foes lurk behind every corner, demons in every shadow.
They will strike with brutal force in their desperation to stop us.
Every man who falls shall have peace,
knowing he died in the restoration of sanctity,
order and sactuary for our kingdom.
Ready yourselves, my brothers.
Hammers of our righteous vengeance shall soon thunder across the land.
The crusade begins at dawn.
- January, 2009

[The preceding works are unpublished and all rights, including copyrights, are retained by the author.]

Frankie

2009-01-08T18:47:00.008-05:00

From Rags to Riches

Remember the kitten Steve found a few months ago on the highway late one night? Scraggly, starving, parasite-infested. We nearly lost her as she was too young to even eat solid food. Luckily, we discovered this in time and got her on milk replacer.

Well, after getting her cured of all her ailments and fed up, three months later, she's growing into a gorgeous kitty, huh?

Of course, I had forgotten how much having a kitten in the house was like having a toddler again. She's into everything all the time and, thanks to her, by Christmas there were virtually no ornaments left on the bottom one-third of the tree. Lucky for her she's so cute.

2008-12-19T08:48:00.002-05:00

WARNING!! This is going to be my own personal, little rant regarding this particular seasonal greeting. If you don't care to hear it or think it might piss you off, go ahead and click that little red X at the top right of your screen now. Go ahead. I'll wait. No? Ok, read on at your own risk!

It seems that every year, people become more and more offended by the use of the phrase "Happy Holidays" in place of "Merry Christmas". Everyone is screaming that people are trying to take the Christ out of Christmas. Well, here are my thoughts ...

1. I've always viewed Happy Holidays to mean Merry Christmas and Happy New Year! After all, those two holidays are very close together. Is that offensive? Are you OK with being told Merry Christmas but NOT Happy New Year? Probably not. So choose to view this greeting in this manner if you will.

2. That poor little, harried clerk ringing up your socks and underwear at Wal Mart has not the slightest idea exactly which holiday(s) you celebrate. For fear of offending, perhaps she says Happy Holidays in order not to set you off, rather than to so. After all, if she says Merry Christmas and you're an atheist, she might get her ass chewed out. Take it as the well-wish it's intended to be.

If a Jew were to wish me a Happy Hanukkah, would/should I be offended? No, of course not. I, myself, do not celebrate Hanukkah, but I would recognize it as a sincere wish for a happy season.

Lighten up, people!! When did everything the world become about me?? How is it that people expect every other person out there to know exactly which holiday it is that you happen to be celebrating?? If someone wishes you Happy Holiday, Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah or Merry Winter Solstice, just smile and say thank you. They ARE, after all, hoping that you have happiness.

Oh, and if Merry XMas is the one that gets you, did you know that he idea of using “X” in place of Christ is not a modern idea? In the Modern Roman Alphabet, which comes from the Greeks who were before Rome, the first letter of the word “Christ” is “chi” which is represented by a symbol similar to the letter “X.” Perhaps XMas is just shorthand for the lazy. Choose to view it this way when you see it and you'll be much happier.

Besides, wouldn't Happy Holidays offend you much less that Happy Whatever the F**K You Celebrate??

How did they miss that?

2008-10-28T09:32:00.005-05:00

I keep a broom in the laundry room to sweep up the daily scatterings of kitty litter. This morning it wasn't there. I went around asking each of my three guys ...
"Have you seen my broom?"

Not one of them made a witch reference.

Seriously, how easy was that one? And they missed it. Yeesh.

Frankie

2008-10-14T11:25:00.005-04:00

I just returned home from taking Frankie
to the vet for her first shots. Yes, that’s her. Apparently those little nodules that I assumed were boy bits, were not. So she’s no longer Frankie as in Frank Sinatra, but Frankie as in Frankie & Johnny.

She gained ½ pound since I first took her in. Considering that she only weighed 1 ½ lbs to begin with, that’s quite a weight gain. They said it was very unusual for a male cat to bond with a female one like Sunny has. Usually same-sex cats make the best friends. That just reinforces the fact that even the dumb cat knew she needed loving.

Oh, and judging by her ears and feet, the vet thinks she’s going to be a pretty big cat. Either that or she’s just going to have ridiculously over-sized ears when she’s grown.

Yes, I know the first photo is terribly blurry but it's the only one I have that shows her beautiful, blue eyes. If I can ever get her to sit still long enough, I'll attempt to get a better one. But, as you can see here, she's certainly made herself right at home.

Pirate Laws

2008-10-07T11:58:00.004-04:00

1. A pirate does not ask for directions. He relies only on his gut feeling, a compass, or a treasure map.

2. Parrots are the preferred pirate companion. Monkeys are an acceptable substitute, unless they fling their feces at people. Then they are an awesome substitute.

3. When fishing, a pirate uses either a sword, a knife, or his bare hands. Use of a hook is only acceptable in the event the pirate is missing a hand.

4. Pirates shall always wear boots, except in the case of a peg leg. Then one boot is acceptable. Flip-flops are right out.

5. Pirates do not cry, except in the case of the loss of a shipload of rum.

6. When describing the size of a treasure, a pirate is required to exaggerate by at least 130%. Flowers are not treasure under any circumstances, unless said flowers are made out of gold.

7. A pirate shall never wear lipstick, nail polish, or capri pants. Actually, that kinda goes without saying.

8. No pirate shall discuss his feelings, unless his feelings include gutting a man from stem to stern and spilling his entrails.

9. A pirate should always remove his hat in the presence of a bartender.

10. During a swordfight, swordfighting insults are required. In the event both participants are still alive at the end of the fight, the participant with the superior insults shall be declared the victor.

11. No pirate shall ever wear a "fanny pack".

12. All foods prepared by a pirate must include rum, grog, or beer. Boone's and other "Wench Punch" is prohibited.

13. A pirate may never compliment another pirate on the softness of his hands.

14. No pirate shall wear a bracelet or a necklace, unless it is the tooth or tusk of an animal he killed. If in the presence of cannibals, a necklace is acceptable camouflage, but only if said necklace is made of human toes.

15. Pirate Law: Dousing oneself in beer is a perfectly acceptable replacement for a shower.

16. No pirate shall drink Grog out of a glass. Grog is only to be consumed either straight from the barrel, or from a mug heavy enough to to kill a man.

17. Three-cornered hats, headbands and bandanas are the only acceptable headwear for pirates. Fedoras, bowler derbies, baseball caps, mickey ears, top hats, sombreros, or anything with lace and flowers will be removed from the vessel-- head included. A grace period of one minute is allowed for hats looted from a tailory.

18. A pirate shall never wrap presents. The only thing a pirate gives is a bludgerin'.

19. Pirate Law: A pirate does not use the word "Fabulous". Ever.

20. No pirate shall attend a movie with less than an Arrrr rating.

21. Only a pirate is capable of killing another pirate. If you are not a pirate (let's say a ninja) and wish to challenge a pirate, they have a word for that. Corpse.

22. Pirate Law: "ARRRRRRRRRRR..." is a perfectly acceptable answer to any question.

23. A pirate does not "go shopping". Unless by "shopping", you mean "killing".

24. Peglegs must be made of timber or some other suitable wood. Plastic, ceramic, porcelain, or metal peglegs are utterly unnacceptable, simply because it complicates the use of the phrase "shiver me timbers".

25. Real pirates have chest hair. If you cannot grow chest hair, you may be a cabin boy.

26. Under no circumstances is a comb-over an acceptable pirate hairdo.

27. No pirate may ever change his shirt because it is "wrinkled". A pirate may only change his shirt if it is completely soaked in blood.

28. When drinking, Pirates may sing. "Fifteen Men on a Dead Man's Chest" is preferred. Kelly Clarkson songs are not allowed.

29. No pirate shall ever drive a minivan, unless he drives the minivan into a tavern, for the purposes of looting barrels of rum from said tavern. Upon completion of this task, the minivan is to be burned. No exceptions.

30. No matter how hard it is raining, two pirates may never share an umbrella. Pirates do not fear rain.

31. If circumstances demand a career change, a move into real estate brokerage or tax collection shall be considered a lateral move and said individual may keep their pirate status.

32. A pirate does not snuggle with an animal, unless he is trying to snap its neck. But I guess that wouldn't really be "snuggling".

33. A pirate may never wear another man's clothing, unless he first kills that man.

34. Two pirates must never share a bed or a hammock. It is perfectly acceptable for one pirate to sleep on the floor, or on a pile of treasure.

35. Pirates do not wear eyeglasses or bifocals unless they are looking at a treasure map, and even then they are allowed only a monacle. Any comments about "Mr. Peanut" while wearing the monacle are prohibited.

36. When setting out on a voyage, a pirate does not pack a suitcase. He is only to bring what he can carry under his arms, or what his wench can carry on her back. Pirates do not go shopping. They go lootin' and plunderin'. -->

37. A pirate does not mow the lawn. Lawns are for landlubbers.

38. Lifting or removing one's eyepatch is extremely impolite but is not considered an insult. It's just kinda gross. Likewise, one should never remove another pirate's eyepatch, except with a sword to the face.

39. Pirates never use the words "fresh" or "feelings," and certainly not together (as in "I have that not-so-fresh feeling").

40. A pirate must never visit a tanning salon. If he is not already tan enough from searching for treasure, he hasn't been searching hard enough.

41. While creativity is encouraged during any barfight or battle at sea, pirates may only use the following types of sword; falchions, scimitars, rapiers, and particularly long knives. Katanas or any other Ninja sword are strictly forbidden, unless the Pirate rips off a Ninja's arm and hurls the arm, and attached Katana, as a projectile.

42. No pirate shall ever sit on a toilet seat, for any reason.

43. Kidnapping is an acceptable substitute for killing, but only if it is for the purpose of plank walking at a later time.

44. When swimming, pirates do not dive. They cannonball.

45. Cannoneers aboard a pirate vessel are not allowed to use hearing protection of any sort. No matter what the OSHA regulations say, if ye can't stand bleedin' from the ears, you have no business being a Pirate.

46. A pirate will never wear a patch that is any other color than black; unless it's halloween. then they can wear a patch with an eyeball painted on the outside. Polka dots are not permitted under any circumstances.

47. Female pirates are allowed some exception to rules concerning hygiene and garmentry, but must make up for it by using twice as much profanity.

48. Hooks are the only acceptable hand substitute. However, they may not have secondary attachments such as screwdrivers, bottle openers, corkscrews, or nail files. These are Pirates we're talking about, not Inspector Gadget.

49. A pirate's diet consists mainly of meat. If at sea, and meat is not available, shoe leather is an acceptable replacement.

50. Pirate Law: You can't spell pirate, without "irate". There's a reason for that, so don't even try.

51. No pirate will ever, ever raise his pinky when drinking any sort of beverage.

52. Pirate Law: When choosing clothing, even if it looks dirty, or smells dirty, it is clean.

53. A pirate may ride in a rowboat, if traveling to or from his ship. Use of a Kayak is only permitted if used for cannon target practice.

54. When drinking rum, the only thing a pirate adds to the rum is more rum.

55. The official Pirate religion is Pastafarianism.

56. No pirate shall ever play wiffle ball.

57. Under no circumstances does a pirate speak with a Ninja, unless he first decapitates that Ninja and uses his head like a sock puppet.

58. When at the office, answering the telephone with "Arrrrrrr" is perfectly acceptable for pirates. Other acceptable choices are "Avast!", and "Ahoy Matey!"

59. A Pirate does not read poetry, unless said poetry is scrawled on the wall of a bathroom.

60. All women are to be referred to as wenches, with the exception of female Pirates, who can be referred to as "lass".

61. Pirates do not clean up, except when gold falls out of a treasure chest.

62. Spilling rum is not acceptable, except in the act of "pouring some out for dead mateys".

63. A pirate may tell any tale of swashbuckling without being called on the details, as long as at least 51% of the story is true.

64. A pirate may never shave below the neck. Shaving above the neck is allowed, but only if the pirate shaves his entire head. In the presence of cannibals, a mohawk is acceptable.

65. No pirate may do the arm movements for "YMCA", or engage in country-western line-dancing.

66. Pirates do not say "please" or "thank you". The phrase "Arrr, I'll probably kill you tomorrow" is an acceptable alternative for "Thank you".

67. Should the ship's bow have a carving of a naked wench, mermaid, or something of the like, crew members should not touch it. Feeling up a wooden statue is unbecoming of a pirate.

68. Pirates do not "IM". The only instant message allowed is a sword through the chest.

69. Dental Hygiene for Pirates is not a priority. Should there be occasion, however, strong rum or salt water can be used as mouthwash. Anything "minty fresh" is strictly forbidden.

70. Pirates never, ever obey laws. Period. Ironic, I realize.

And Frankie makes three ...

2008-09-09T10:14:00.011-04:00

Last Wednesday night, Steve worked late. When he got home, he presented me with a tiny scrap of cat flesh with the biggest blue eyes I'd ever seen. He was driving down the highway when a wee kitten dashed out onto the road in front of him, then dashed back into the ditch. He stopped and called to it, thinking it probably long gone, but the kitten ran to him as fast as his little legs could go. Being a bit of a softy, Steve knew he couldn't leave him and so brought him home.

Our original plan was to, 1) try to find owners or, that failing, 2) try to find him a good home. He was in rough shape. His spine and hip bones jutted up from his tiny back and you could count each rib easily. He had fleas and ear mites. He had a bare patch on his nose where all the hide has been scraped off in the past. He had three small cuts on his forehead that looked to be from teeth or claws. He was a pretty pathetic sight.

We took him in and fed him. Steve began looking for his owners the following day, despite having already stopped at the only three houses within a mile radius of where he was found to see if he belonged there. Meanwhile, I began the search for something he would eat. Dry cat food was too hard for him. I bought canned, of which he only at a little. I mixed the canned with milk and he mostly licked the milk off. By Saturday morning, he was getting even thinner and was starting to be lethargic.

A quick trip to the vet yielded treatments for worms and ear mites. I had already treated his fleas. She gave me an antibiotic to give him as his eyes were runny. She also suggested a milk-replacer rather than just cow's milk. I brought him home and blended the milk-replacer with the canned cat food and he attacked it as only the starving can. A mere 24-hours later he was energetic, bright-eyed and playing as a kitten should. It was at this point .... well, actually probably before this point ... that we all realized that we could never give him away. It seemed like he was put into Steve's path, knowing we would care for him and love him. If we're sitting on the couch, he'll crawl up into our laps and sit staring into our faces and purring contentedly. How can we look into the face of such trust and not give him a home?

And so .... we have a new cat. We already have two cats. We most certainly did not need another cat. But a new cat we now have.

The most surprising thing about his introduction to our home is that Sunny, Levi's big, orange cat, has actually taken to him. Sunny is the same cat that tortured our female cat for about two years until she learned to fight back. Sunny spent about two days hissing at Frankie. He now plays with him often and has even been observed grooming him. Sunny seems to agree that he belongs with us. Twilight still hisses at him, but she's grumpy. Even Ty, our dog, has taken his presence with at least patience, if not quite joy.

I used to believe that people who dumped animals should have a special place in Hell reserved for them, but I no longer believe that. I now believe they should go to Heaven. Yes, God should take them in, feed them, clothe them, give them a warm, safe place to live. For five or six weeks. Then he should take them out on a cold, rainy night and dump them in the country and leave them there wishing them luck. If some kind family comes along that wants to take them in, so be it. If not ... are those wolves I hear??

Bye Bye

2008-08-28T08:13:00.002-04:00

When your children are growing, there are any number of rites of passage that that mark the growing of your kids, not only in size but in maturity, independence, attitude, etc. Levi recently turned 15, got his driving permit and started high school. There’s two pretty darned big rites right there. But these rites are expected. When one has a child, you expect the first day of school, the first bicycle, the first sleep-over away from home without you, the first license, girlfriend, chin hair. But there are other rites that catch a Mom off guard. Things you don’t plan for, things you don’t see coming, but that are solid reminders nonetheless that your children are growing up. Many of these are little things, but that makes them have no less of an impact. As you may have guessed, one of these little things happened today … I gave away all our craft supplies.

When one has children, one is often called upon to help produce various projects from dioramas of an African veldt to models of cells to working volcanoes. There are 4-H fair entries and school projects and things they just want to do for fun. Over the years, I had built up an enormous cache of widely varied craft supplies. Moms never throw the left-overs from one project away as they know they will likely be able to use them on a future one. And this stockpile of ribbon, yarn, modeling clay, pipe cleaners, bits of wood, bits of stone, bits of everything imaginable has bailed us out on many last-minute ‘Oh Mom! I have to make a (fill in the blank) for school tomorrow!” emergencies.

But now it’s gone.

It hasn’t been used for years and I can’t see it being used in the future. Bye bye craft supplies. We’re into a new phase of life now.

Tuesdays With Noirrie

2008-08-05T10:48:00.004-04:00

What's In a Name?

A fair lot, I would say. When Lane was born 16+ years ago a number of people, when told what his name was, asked how we spelled it? Laine? Layne? Laene? Um ... no. Just L.A.N.E. I'm not sure when the I-must-find-a-new-and-unique-name-for-my-child craze started but, apparently, it was before that. The old standards were no longer good enough and people started branching out trying to find original names for their babies. And, when all the original names appeared to be taken, they just started spelling them in new and 'interesting' ways. And, by spelling them in an interesting way I mean, of course, blatantly misspelling them. There is a belief among many that naming your baby something unique will make them unique. I am of the belief that the child either will or will not be unique on his/her own merits and not because of whatever handle their parents stuck them with at birth. But that's just me.

At last night's county 4-H sale, I found myself "reviewing" some of the names on the sale roster. Here are just a few that caught my attention:

Blaak - Is this Blake? Cause it sure reads as black.

Torrie - I bet she hates the Whigs

Cutter - Have you met his brother Emo? (Sadly, of 127 kids, this name was found twice)

McKenzie - Not unusual these days, but also on this roster of 127 were: Kenzie, Kenzi and Kenzee. I default to the 'original' spelling thing.

Anastasia - A pretty name, but really, who's not going to associate this with a Russian princess?

Arden - I just can't help but think Eve Arden when I read this.

Brooklene - Close to Manhatteen

Kaghe - We keep our parrot in a kaghe.

Mirriah - They call the wind .....

Cyruss - Middle name Billyrae

And, bless her ....

Jemimah - No explanation needed

You know, I have a very simple name and yet I still have to spell it for people. Do you think anyone, ever, will spell Kaghe right? Come on folks! Give these kids real names and let them be emotionally scarred by other things!

Tuesdays With Noirrie

2008-06-24T13:08:00.008-04:00

Just checking in ...

(Before Stacy scolds me because it's been so long since I've blogged!!)

Nothing worth mentioning has happened lately. That's why I haven't been here. So, here's some randomosity ...

Driving to town one day recently, I saw a couple of Canada geese in the ditch, looking for all the world like they were intending to cross the road. I slowed down just in case they decided to hop out in front of me as critters so often do. When I got close, I saw that it was a mommy and daddy goose with their three little baby gooses. That was about the cutest thing I've seen in a long time. Awwwww.

Lane uses my bathroom on occasion, instead of using the guy bathroom. But it's only every now and then. For a while, I assumed it was because 'his' bathroom was taken. It wasn't. I finally asked him why because I could find no discernible pattern. I'm afraid I cannot tell you the reason because he would murder me if he found out I put it here. Suffice it to say that the reason was so damned funny that I laughed out loud, long and hard. And every time I think of it, it still brings a smile to my face.

My guys were sweet enough to buy 'me' a nice, flat-screen high-def TV for Mother's Day. Awwww. Sweet. And they were even thoughtful enough to put it in the room where I watch TV, not the one where the boys have all their game systems. Awwww. Want to guess how long it took the boys to move the xBox and hook it up to the new TV??? *grump*

Lane has said for a while that, once he's out on his own, he's just going to have cats, no dogs. We recently saw a comedian who said that a single men who owns a cat is either gay or an evil genius. It's not too hard to figure out which one Lane will be.

We've had lots of storms in the last few weeks. Lots of awesome lightening. I love lightening and will usually set a lawn chair in the end of the garage to watch it. It's been making me miss my Dad though. He loved storms.

I drove by a yard in town the other day that was COVERED with those gaudy pink flamingos. That's still going on?? It's long been a tradition in our town to occasionally flamingo someone's yard. The person who gets flamingoed holds on to them for a time and then places them in someone else's yard on the sly. I hadn't seen this happen for a while. It's nice to see that some traditions never die.

The Chronicles of Narnia; Prince Caspian

2008-05-21T08:34:00.011-04:00

Go see this movie. Go see it now! Seriously. It was awesome. After having seen, and loved, the first one, I didn't know quite what to expect from the second. The previews look good. But, then again, previews always do, don't they? I've seen too many movie series where the first one is spectacular and the following one falls spectacularly on its face. That was not the case here.

Caspian is every bit as beautiful in its visuals as the first. Lane worded it best when, upon leaving the movie, he asked, "Do you ever see movies like that and then find that you just hate our world?" Yes. Yes I do.

It's been long and long since I've read the books (although seeing this movie has made me want to get them out and read them again). So I cannot attest to how well it followed the book. I can only say that the movie was beautiful and highly entertaining. Often, after about an hour and a half in a theater, I'm starting to squirm. I'm not a good sitter. But I was surprised that this one ended so quickly after 2 hrs. and 24 minutes. Nary a squirm one.

Classic lines from this movie (which will make no sense until you see it but which you will probably love after you do) ...

*I* am an adult.

Can you see him now?

Go see Caspian. Tonight if you can.

Tuesdays With Noirrie

2008-04-29T11:21:00.004-04:00

Do, or do not. There is no cry.

(Yeah, I know that's not Noirre, but I just had to use his image here.)

There are two kinds of people in this world ... those who Do, and those who sit back and bitch about what has been Done. Now, in all fairness, I do have to admit that there really are three kinds. There are the Do Nots who appreciate what the Does do. But they are a tiny fragment of the equation. And the Do Nots who actually tell the Does that they have done a good job and that they appreciate it is such a small percentage that I can't give you the number as my calculator doesn't have that many decimal places.

If you're a Do, you know it. If you're a Do Not, you also know it. However, if you are a Do Not, there are some rules that you should know about that, apparently, many of you do not. Whose rules? Mine, for now, but I plan to see if I can make them universal law.

Rule 1 - You may not utter any sentence to the Does that begins with any of the following: "Why didn't you ..." "Maybe you should ... " "I think you ought to ... "

Rule 2- In referring to any event which the Does planned and you, as Do Not, did not, you may not refer to it in terms of "we". "We" didn't do squat.

Rule 3 - You may not sniff, roll your eyes, huff, puff, stomp or otherwise show any physical form of discontent over what has been Done. Sit your ass down and smile.

Rule 4 - You may show your appreciation to the Does in any positive form including, but not limited to, smiles, hugs, verbal thanks, singing of praises and monetary gifts.

Honestly people, if you're not willing to do the work, you really, really need to just shut your mouth. If not, you may find yourself having the job the next time.

And, on another note, but completely unrelated to this post, I cannot wait until both my family reunion and my term of service as 4-H community leader are over.

Tuesdays With Noirrie

2008-04-15T09:30:00.011-04:00

It Takes a Thief

Clearly, I will never have a career as a thief. How do I know this? Because I recently attempted something that I wasn't even sure was completely dishonest and nearly fainted doing it! Here's the deal .... Steve's birthday was last week. Steve is both very easy and very hard to buy for. Easy, because he's not particular and will appreciate anything you get him. Hard, because he's not "into" anything really so it's hard to come up with something that will WOW him. One of the few things, other than just crash, he does like to do on his off time is play blackjack. But he very rarely does this. I think there's a part of him that feels guilty for leaving his family to go to the casino even though none of us minds at all. After all, it's not like he's doing it every night and losing the grocery money, KWIM?

SO, the boys and I agreed that wrapping some chips from one of the local casinos and giving them to him for his birthday would be an awesome idea. That way he'd go, he'd play, he'd have fun, and he'd not feel guilty.

SO, off I goes to the casino to get the chips. Now, the day before I had discussed this plan with a friend. She agreed that it was a great idea! However, she warned me that they might not let you take the chips out of the casino. But if I just stick them in my pocket and walk out, they'll never know, right? Well, maybe they have sensors in them or something and an alarm will go off like at Wal Mart when they forget to deactivate that little strip. Hmmm.

So, not wanting to break any chip laws, my first stop at the casino was the cashier who I asked if I could take chips out of the casino or not. He informed me that he wasn't aware of any rules against it. But then he proceeded to suggest that I more or less 'hide' them when leaving. AND, should anyone stop me, he never told me that. Ah. Great. Like I wasn't a bit paranoid before.

Naturally, the only open table at the time - 9 a.m. - was the one with NO players sitting at it and the pit boss standing behind the dealer. Gulp. Luckily, when I walked up to the table the PB drifted away. Nice. Maybe he's not paying attention now. (Yeah, right. Like it's not his JOB to pay attention!) I asked the dealer for four $25 chips. She goggles and asks me, "TWENTY-FIVES???" Sheesh. Like that's high-rolling or something? Or maybe I just looked poor. Who knows? But she took my cash and then, to my horror, called over her shoulder to the PB, "CHANGING ONE HUNDRED." Thank you so much for calling attention to me, Miss Helpy. After getting my chips, I asked for and was directed to the rest room. Step one in sneaking out.

This is where the paranoia really began to creep in. I escaped into the restroom where, by this time, two cups of coffee and nerves dictated that this be a legitimate visit. Once inside the stall I heard someone else come in. Did they send someone to keep an eye on me? Gulp.

The chips now safely hidden away in my pocket, I exited the restroom and unobtrusively strolled around looking at the various slot machines as if just checking them out. Now, exactly how unobtrusive one can be when one appears to be the only patron in the entire casino at 9 a.m. on a weekday morning, I don't know. But I was trying to tell myself that I was. On one aisle, there were two casino employees seemingly just strolling along and looking things over as well. Two aisles over, here they came again. Shit. They really do have people following me!

I turned a corner and ran into Levi's two soccer coaches who work there. I stopped to visit with them thinking this might throw off my pursuers. Of course, then I immediately wondered what they thought about Levi's mom hanging around the casino at that time of the day, but there was nothing to be done for it.

At this point, I decided to make a break for it. I strolled purposefully toward the exit, neither looking left nor right, just acting for all the world like I was doing nothing wrong. Naturally, the table where the goggle-eyed dealer gave me the chips was the one RIGHT next to the exit. And now the PB is standing with her again. Watching me leave? Knowing I have chips on me? Calling security? I kept walking, expecting at every moment to hear "Ma'am! Please stop for a minute!" Of course, I never did. Sheesh. They're just stinking CHIPS for heaven's sake. Chips I paid for. But the very idea that one may be doing something wrong is a powerful paranoia inciter.

Obviously, I will never have a career as a criminal. If something as simple as smuggling casino chips sends me this far over the edge, committing an actual crime would probably cause me to just fall over dead at the scene. Case closed.

I am glad to report that Steve loved the gift and happily trotted off to the casino that evening and played to his little heart's content, so I guess it was all worth it. ...... Next year he's getting a tie.

Tuesdays With Noirrie

2008-04-01T10:44:00.004-04:00

The Mist

Have you seen this movie?

Being a long-time Stephen King fan, I've wanted to see this movie since it first came out in theaters. There's the King factor, plus it just looked really good. Well, I finally saw it on Saturday. I kind of wish I'd noticed where, on the cover of the DVD, it said "One of the most shocking movie endings ever". Maybe that would have prevented me from seeing it. But probably not. First, I'll just say that the movie was pretty good. It seems like with movies made from King's stories, they're either great or awful. This was more toward the great end of the spectrum, although not quite there in my opinion. I reserve great for The Green Mile and Shawshank Redemption. Still, it was pretty good.

Until the end. Nothing like having a movie kick you square in the balls. And that's what this one did. It was incredibly disturbing. Three days later and I'm still thinking about it. I was so unprepared for it. I won't say what 'it' was ... I'll just warn you to pull up your protective emotional blankie before watching it. And, if you do, let me know what you think.

Tuesdays With Noirrie

2008-03-25T10:41:00.004-04:00

Random Thoughts

Man, I'm full of it today. [Do not insert comment here.]

Here we go ....

To be added to the list of things that I don't get - celebrity gossip. I mean, who cares? Why does anyone really want to know who's doing whom, who's gay, who's drying out, etc.? I saw a clip from a South Park episode where Barrack Obama - you know, the potential leader of our entire nation - was being interviewed and a NEWS FLASH broke in about yet another Britney Spears antic. I found it hard to see this as funny because there are so many people obsessed with celebs that I could almost see this actually happening. This clip was shown on the Today Show. It was shown in conjunction with another clip of Britney's cameo on some sitcom or other (I wasn't paying particularly close attention.) And then they announced that if that cameo "... didn't fulfil your Britney fix, you can bid on the outfit she wore for that cameo!" Um, who wants that? Seriously. Please tell me. And this is just the tip of the celebrity gossip iceberg. Speaking for myself, I do NOT want to know anything about actors other than how they perform in whatever movie I happen to be watching at the time. What I find even sadder is that this type of information is often passed along in the form of "news". Someone, somewhere, needs to look up the definition of news.

On the same Today Show, some expert or other (did I mention that I was only paying partial attention?) stated that we've become a society of germophobes and it's actually making us sicker. YES! They confirmed my long-held belief that my shortcomings as a housekeeper are actually building up my family's immunity and, therefore, keeping them healthier in the long run. We NEED to be exposed to a certain amount of germs in order for our bodies to build up that immunity to them. Smug.

I really, really, seriously, deeply hate my insurance company. Wouldn't it be nice (and, in their case, novel) if you could get the correct, complete answer the first time you called? And not get a different answer each time? Wow. Imagine.

Why is it that this sporadic back pain I've had for the last few years has always gone away within a few days when left to its own devices and yet, when I finally seek chiropractic help to stop it from recurring, it has now hurt continuously for a week and a half? I know he'll make me better in the long run. It's just waiting for the long run that hurts.

I still can't believe that I'm on Myspace with all my teenaged WoW friends. Honestly, I'm way too old to even be there.

Tuesdays With Noirrie

2008-03-11T08:36:00.007-05:00

Chosen by a Cat

My friend gave me a book to read called Chosen by a Horse by Susan Richards (and, honestly, I'm still not sure I've forgiven her for that!) In the book, the main character receives a rescued horse to care for. She watches as this mare goes from a sad, skinny, mistreated animal to a healthy, glorious, beautiful creature under her care. Many things about this book reminded me of our Sunny. Or, more accurately, Levi's Sunny.

Levi had wanted a cat of his own for quite some time. Last year I told him he could have one for his birthday. About two weeks before the day we headed to the Humane Society to choose one. There were several kittens and young cats available. They have a little room where you can take the potential pets and spend some time with them to try to get to know them a little. After playing with a number of kitties, Levi chose the one who was to become Sunny. Honestly, I was angling for the little orange and white one who was beautifully marked, a few months old and looked sleek and healthy. My second choice was the year-old grey tabby female who displayed a very sweet personality. But it was Levi's choice. He picked the skinny, runty-looking little orange male with the attitude. Oh well.

We had hit Wal Mart for a wide variety of feline supplies, including a brand-new carrier, on the way to the Humane Society so were all ready to bring his new friend home. Levi was immediately in love. Sunny, not so much. Oh he was affectionate and playful, but he also displayed so many of those typical cat characteristics including accepting affection when HE decided he wanted it.

He was kind of a sad-looking little thing. He was so starved that his skin just draped loosely over his tiny, little hipbones. His head seemed over-sized compared to his skeletal figure so that he kind of resembled one of those creepy bobble-head thingies. But Levi didn't care. He thought he was beautiful. He named him Sunny, more in honor of his color than his personality.

And then Sunny got sick. Two days after bringing him home, he developed a cough. I understand that 'kennel cough' is not unusual for rescue pets like this. However, his breathing became very labored and he grew lethargic. I immediately took him to the vet and pumped a fairish sum of cash into him. He was quite an ill little kitty. One night not long after that, Steve and I were discussing how to handle it when Levi's birthday gift died on him. That's how bad he seemed. But, he was tougher than he looked and he rode it out, beat the bug and grew into a fat, healthy, beautiful cat.

Being a cat, he doesn't display the attitude of gratitude that the horse in the book did. Or maybe he does in his own way. Levi takes Sunny into his room and night and closes the door so that he stays there. Given a chance, Sunny will escape. And yet on those nights when Levi doesn't lock him in, Sunny can often be found sleeping next to Levi on the bed. Apparently if it's HIS choice, it's OK. He is, as far as he's concerned, the alpha male. Almost from the moment he entered the house he began trying to assert his dominance over the other two pets. The dog doesn't fall for it. The other cat did. He strolls about the house with the air of an aristocrat who has graced us with his presence. We often call him The Young Prince. Well, when we're calling him something polite that is. He won't voluntarily come sit in your lap, but he will at times deign to sit on the back of the couch behind you and slap you repeatedly in the back of the head with his tail. We've chosen to take this as a sign of affection. He's aloof, demanding and arrogant. But he does occasionally wrap his tail around your leg briefly as he walks past you and I think that might mean he likes us. He has free run of the house, his own jar of treats, gets the toilet flushed just for him when he's hanging over the rim wanting to watch the water swirl and more affection than he really wants. You'd think he'd be grateful. But he's not. He's a cat.

After paying the last of the vet bills, those on top of all the supplies and the adoption fee, I told Levi that his birthday gift ended up costing far more than we ever spend on each other. He agreed that was true, but also pointed out that Sunny actually ended up being a gift for the whole family.

And, really, he's right.

Tuesdays With Noirrie

2008-03-04T08:36:00.004-05:00

Embarrassed

[SS Blog Challenge - Your most embarrassing moment]

I can be a bit of a smart-arse. I sometimes make rude smart-arsed comments. Sometimes even crude. And they never embarrass me. At least ... not when I do it on purpose.

Last year my high school volleyball coach called and wanted me to be his assistant coach. I really didn't think I could commit that much time with my own boys being so busy, but I thought I'd talk to him about it anyway. Upon entering the gym, I noticed the ball cart. This is a wheeled cart that holds about 30 volleyballs for practice. Back 'in the day' when I played, volleyball had a pretty small budget compared to other sports. We had a few nice, new balls for games, but our practice balls were crap. Old, brittle, brown with age. The first thing I noticed about most of the balls in the practice cart were that same agedness. I picked one up and carried it into Coach's office with me where I held it aloft and asked him, "Do you still have the same balls you had when I played for you?"

Without missing a beat he looked me straight in the eye and said, "Yes, I do."

*Blush*

Mrs. Hughes Skewed Views

2008-02-28T09:11:00.003-05:00

From Crackle: Mrs hughes skewed views

Cheery Bunny from Scrap Share shared this video of her MOM performing her comedy. Her mom! How awesome is that? I loved her so had to share this clip.

A Cello Rondo

2008-02-27T17:16:00.001-05:00

Tuesdays With Noirrie

2008-02-26T11:06:00.007-05:00

Hubby Done Good

Steve has been selected to be the Chamber of Commerce President for Blackwell for the coming year. He's very proud. I'm very proud of him. This, of course, will mean more work for him. Like he needed that. Still, it's an honor, and a good move for him being a bit of an 'outsider' in the community. He worried a bit that I would be upset when his exta responsibilities take him away from home more evenings this year. How can I tell him that I consider those bonus nights? Nights when I can get away with just making chicken nuggets and mac 'n' cheese for dinner. This is certainly no hardship on me.

Here's an excerpt from the article the paper carried:

Developing a sense of family within Blackwell is the goal for incoming Chamber president Steven Russell.“I believe in Blackwell,” he said the week prior to assuming his new office.“This is truly a community of family. We are blessed with multiple families here. We have our home family, our work family and the community family.”

I wanted to add the entire article but discovered that the Blackwell Journal-Tribune requires a paid subscription to do so. Note to self: Send an email to the BJ-T editor letting them know that NO one from out of the area is going to pay to subscribe to this paper online. And those in the area can just pick it up at the gas station. Sheesh.

Teenagers

2008-02-15T08:34:00.002-05:00

I need to get a t-shirt that says this. On reading the Scrap Share board, Kellisue posted about a very unmotivated teenager. I could SO relate (x2). But the best thing to come out of the thread, for me, were these words by the ever-wise Diana in MD:

Teenagers ...

Taller toddlers

with bigger words.

Tuesdays With Noirrie

2008-02-12T10:50:00.000-05:00

The Cave

I'm not sure if I should call it the bear cave, the bat cave or just the man cave. Any one of those would apply. But a cave it as certainly turned out to be. See, we used to have this nice family room. We gained it when we added on to our house nearly five years ago. It was a lovely room for a time. We installed surround-sound and I decorated it with a fun movie theme. It belonged to all of us. For a while.

Then, slowly, the men took over. Steve started going there when he wanted some alone time. He closes the doors (a clear signal) and hibernates in front of the TV. But the real overthrow came when Lane discovered that he could hook their game system into the surround sound. Hey, who wouldn't want the sounds of things exploding coming at you from all directions?

In the last three days I have had a succession of eight different teen-aged boys through there. When the boys have friends over, that is their domain. And, admittedly, it's nice for me to have a place to send them, out of my way. But can you imagine the look and, more importantly, the smell of that room after having that many guys in there for the weekend? Teen boy funk. Ah, there's nothing like it. That's why I'm thinking I should call it the bat cave. Not because of that cool masked hero. No. Because of the odor of guano that permeates it. Seriously, there is not enough Febreeze in seven Wal Marts to freshen it.

I wonder if I could talk Steve into adding on again? This time, we could build a girl room. Hmmm.....

Tiptoe Through the Tulips

2008-02-06T09:36:00.001-05:00

Does anyone else get seriously tired of having to tiptoe around certain people? Do you have those people in your life that you have to pussy-foot around? You know the ones that are always on the edge of their seat ready to leap at you for the slightest (inevitably imagined) insult or slight? If not, thank your lucky freaking stars! I have a few too many of them in my life. If you know me, you know who they are. I know I should stop indulging them, be blunt and just not play their game. But then I have to suffer the repercussions. It's a catch-22.

*sigh*

Maybe I should just buy some of those toe shoes ballerinas wear to make this balancing act easier?

Tuesdays With Noirrie

2008-01-29T09:46:00.000-05:00

My kingdom for a king!

I'll make a confession. Steve and I really do not make good bedfellows. We really should not sleep together. And, by "sleep", I mean sleep. Our sleep styles are just waaaaay too different. For starters, he goes to bed around 9 p.m. and I go to bed around 1 a.m. Normally, this is no problem. 1) If he needs sleep, he normally doesn't wake up when I come to bed. 2) If he needs something else, he normally does. (Side note: How does he do that? It's a secret man-gift, I tell you!) Then there's the fact that he's a flopper. I am not. It takes me a good while to get to sleep some nights with him tossing about on his side of the bed. Not to mention that these sleep gyrations mess the covers up. Bedtime is one of those times when my OCD comes into play. I must have the covers centered on me and the sheets firmly tucked in at the foot of the bed or it bugs the everloving crap out of me. By the time I get to bed, he often has the covers all messy. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to re-make a bed with someone sleeping in it without waking them? Quite. And then there's the snoring. He doesn't always snore. But when he does it's a touchy proposition getting him to stop. If I wake him, he gets very grumpy. It's an extremely delicate operation poking someone juuuust enough to make them roll over, but not so much as to wake them.

I have suggested twin beds. Hey, Lucy and Desi had them! The very idea of this offends him greatly. Another solution would be a king-sized bed which would at least make for a larger playing field and maybe I could keep 'my' side of the bed tidier. The perfect solution? Separate bedrooms. Hey, no one says we can't visit each other once in a while. But this would alleviate all of our nocturnal troubles. Now .... which kid can I make sleep on the couch?

Tuesdays With Noirrie

2008-01-22T12:04:00.000-05:00

Well, that was exhausting!

This past weekend was String Fling at Kansas State U. This is the middle school orchestra workshop weekend. It's loads of fun and such a good experience for the kids. But it is also thoroughly exhausting.

Our day began on Saturday with waking at 3:45 a.m. Now, if you know me, you know I'm not a morning girl. And I'm certainly not a butt-crack-of-dawn-early morning girl. The caravan left the school at 4:50 (late, because, as always, we had to wait for the late-comers). The day was pretty much: drive, potty break, drive, breakfast, drop kids for rehearsals, pick kids up for lunch, drop kids for more rehearsals, pick kids up and check into hotel, take kids to mall for dinner and shopping, take kids back to hotel for play time, lock them in their rooms at 10 p.m. Honestly, the day wasn't hard for the sponsors, just ... long. Then again, any day spent with 11 middle schoolers is ... long.

Sunday began at a not-quite-as-butt-crack-but-still-too-early 6 a.m. More rehearsals, concerts by the kids showing off their newly learned songs, lunch, drive, potty break, drive, home at 4 p.m. I got home, unloaded my stuff, and headed straight for a nap. I am WAY too old for this kind of thing.

But, as much as I seem to be whining, the end of this trip was a bit bittersweet for me. This is quite likely my last-ever school trip. There just aren't these kinds of things in high school where both boys will be next year. I have been going on field and various other trips with the boys for 13 years now beginning those little excursions to the pumpkin patch and the nature center when Lane was in preschool. And now it is most likely over.

I'll admit, I'm a little sad about that.

Tuesdays with Noirrie

2008-01-15T10:23:00.000-05:00

I believe ...

... that Andrew Lloyd Webber is a musical genius.

... so is the Trans-Siberian Orchestra.

... Gerard Butler is the sexiest man alive.

... that God gave me kids to carry things for me.

... that He made Lane extra tall to get things off high shelves and decorate the top of the Christmas tree for me.

... cats are weird.

... that I'm going to knock my dog in the head soon as she's been barking a very low, quiet bark for about 30 minutes solid now.

... that, despite my efforts to resist, Family Guy and Futurama are actually pretty funny.

... that almond M&Ms are the absolute best candy on the planet.

... there's something completely adorable about elderly couples holding hands.

... that my dog should not lay under my computer desk and fart.

... that Cafepress.com needs to update their WoW t-shirts.

... that, if a website has a "remember me" option, it should damned well remember me!

... that people who don't give you the little wave when you let them into heavy traffic should have to go to the back of the line.

... that people who let their dogs poop in your yard should have their noses rubbed in it. The owners, not the dogs.

... that blogger shouldn't screw up the formatting of your post every stinking time you add a picture. And often not let you fix it.

... that I think way too much about stupid stuff.

I've created a monster!

2008-01-10T09:09:00.000-05:00

Remember my plans to become an old hippie one day? And remember that Lane actually thinks that's a good idea? He emailed the following photo to me from school yesterday saying, "Wouldn't it be awesome if this was our family?" Should I worry?

On the other hand, yeah, it would be kind of cool if this was our family.

2008-01-09T09:32:00.000-05:00

Tuesday's With Noirrie

2008-01-01T20:35:00.000-05:00

Happy New Year

And so begins another year. A new one. A fresh one. Time to make changes? Naw, not for me. I'm not a big believer in new year's resolutions. Why? Not because I don't need to make any changes, believe me. Mostly because I never keep them. And because I think if you decide to make a change in your life, you should just do it. Now. Don't wait for a particular date.

I do, on the first annually, wonder what this new year will bring. I confess I'm a bit worried because my dryer quite working the day before Christmas. You know how those things tend to run in threes? I've been angling for a new computer. After getting a new dryer, I'm guessing the next new item will be something equally less fun.

What else will this year bring? I hesitate to even guess, but yet I always do. But, this year as every year, I guess I have no choice but to wait and be surprised.

May YOUR year be a wonderful one.

Tuesdays With Noirrie Eve

2007-12-24T09:48:00.000-05:00

I'll Be Home For Christmas

Hum that in your mind's background while you read this ....

Ah, Christmas Eve. I sit here, coffee at hand, relishing the fact that my two family holiday gatherings are behind me. And guess what? I'm not going to spew about either one. Can you believe it? Actually, they both went quite well. Even the one that PSIL attended. Of course, that was, no doubt, owing greatly to the fact that we spent a sum total of 3.5 hours with her this year. Ah, well. Works for me. My family gathering was even well-behaved. I would say that it was because it was Christmas and everyone was on their best behavior. But you know my two families better than that. Must have been some cosmic behavior-modifying misalignment. Whatever it was, they were both nice. And they're both over.

And, for the first time in I cannot remember when, we get to stay home on Christmas day. All day. I relishing the very idea of it. We'll sleep in, open gifts, play with our toys and go see a movie together in the evening. Doesn't that just sound like a little slice of Heaven?

May you all have a wonderful Christmas and many blessings in the coming year.

Tuesdays With Noirrie

2007-12-18T10:31:00.001-05:00

Time is money, Friend!

Yesterday, I spent a sum total of three hours sitting around doctor's offices. Of that, one hour and fifteen minutes was pure wait time. As in the wait to even see the docs. It was my doctor that was the worst offender. I waited a full hour before I even got to see him. To me, this indicates some serious scheduling screw ups. Oh, I realize things happen. Emergencies. Urgent phone calls. Donuts in the break room. But this kind of wait is not unusual with my doctor. And I find it flat ridiculous. Especially since this appointment was at 9:30 a.m. How can you already be running an hour behind schedule a mere one-and-a-half hours after you start?

So, I have a solution. I think anyone with which you have an appointment should have a fifteen-minute grace period to allow for calls, patients who won't leave and random pastry emergencies. After that, they should take $1 off their bill for every minute they keep you waiting. I wonder how quickly they would get in to see you if they did that? I wonder if this would help cure their obsessive over-scheduling? I wonder if I can get my doctor to do it?

Tuesdays With Noirrie

2007-12-11T10:58:00.000-05:00

Snow Day

Day two of kids out of school due to icy conditions. *Heaves heavy sigh.* The roads were actually clear enough that they could have gone today. The ole school board jumped the gun a bit on canceling today, in my own humble opinion. Ah well. I suppose I really can't complain about a couple of extra days of sleeping late and not having a real schedule.

But I am sitting here hoping that all this rain coming down today will NOT freeze and that school WILL be in session tomorrow. Hey, Mommy needs her quiet time.

Tuesdays With Noirrie

2007-12-04T10:14:00.000-05:00

No, no. Let US do it. Really.

Whew! My sister bought a new house. As is the tradition in our family, on moving day, we all show up with our varied and sundry vehicles, start grabbing crap left and right, shoving it in, and hauling it to the new place. We did this for Deb on Saturday. We had quite a crew and quite a fleet of vehicles. The view from above would have greatly resembled an ant hill when there's a nice pile of crumbs nearby with the industrious back-and-forth trekking. We were a well-oiled machine.

Well ... most of us.

Deb's husband is not a born worker-bee. In fact, work puts him into a seriously bad mood. Work sends him into a tail-spin. Work blows his circuits to the degree that, for the most part, he stood around and watched the rest of us do it. We all made a mighty effort to ignore this. But it was hard. Damned hard. Especially when:

a) He would bitch us out that we weren't doing it properly.

b) He loaded the washing machine onto the dolly then instructed my 110-lb. niece to wheel it outside. He did generously offer to hold the door for her, though.

c) He stood in the doorway of the new house watching all the rest of us tromp back and forth with our boxes.

d) Those various and sundry times he was spotted sitting in his recliner while the rest of us continued to work.

e) After watching Steve and Jacob unload a cabinet cursed them out for laying it on its side.

f) After being asked where he wanted the TV, he shouted, "Take it in the F**KING HOUSE!"

I could go on but I would run out of letters and you probably get the idea anyway. I'm glad Deb got this incredibly awesome new house. I'm glad we were able to help her. I'm glad it's done. And, God forbid she ever moves again, she'd better be prepared to send that SOB away, or she'll have a mutiny on her hands.

Tuesdays With Noirrie

2007-11-27T12:56:00.001-05:00

I survived!

Whew! I survived yet another family-filled holiday. And my family survived my cooking. The whole Thanksgiving four-day event began with me making my best effort to poison my family. I bought a 20-lb. bird. Placed said bird in the fridge Monday morning to thaw. On Wednesday morning, said bird was still pretty darned frozen. So, I fell back on the tried-and-true thawing method recommended by Ladies Home Journal and the ultimate turkey guru, butterball.com. I placed the turkey in my bathtub, filled with cold water. Might I add here that, if you've never thawed a turkey this way, it's pretty ridiculous looking. I offered the boys $5 if they would put on their swim suits, sit in the tub with the turkey and let me take their picture, but they both declined. Harumph. I left the turkey to thaw thusly, after carefully calculating thawing time per pound. Add the pounds, subtract the 7, carry the nine .... um .... ten p.m.!

The first thing I noticed when I got up on Thursday morning and stumbled to the bathroom was, yes, my turkey STILL swimming around in my tub. Crapola! Well, maybe it stayed cold enough? When I picked it up, it made a horrible sloshing noise. No, not water sloshing. This sloshing was coming from inside the sealed packaging. It sounded as if the turkey itself had started to liquefy. Well, that can't be good!

Quickly called the grocery store and determined that they do, in fact, have thawed turkeys ready and waiting. Yay! (Obviously, I'm not the only one that's ever needed a last-minute turkey.) Sent Steve running off to the store and started the other preparations. Family began arriving in the afternoon and we were having a fine visit. Time to check the turkey. Leg temperature read 170-degrees. Thanksgiving law says to took it to 180-degrees. Dotti, who was eagerly awaiting the oven to cook her sweet potato casserole, assured me this would be fine. Set the turkey aside to let it "set". I'm told they'll continue to cook so I assumed it would be okay. About half an hour later, Steve began to carve, checking the meat and it all appeared to be cooked well. But what's this? Its little plug hasn't popped. Ut-oh. But look! The meat looks done! That was, until he got down into the middle. I just don't think that turkey meat is supposed to be pink. *sigh* So we carved around the edges of this stupid bird and put the middle bits back into the oven.

I'm happy to report that no one died.

Oh, but this wasn't the end of the holiday! Had company for a while on Friday and then started getting things ready for our next foray into family festivities. Spent the weekend with the Russells. Their turkey was completely done, which was good. Everyone played nicely together, which was good. PSIL behaved almost normally, which was great! (Although that left me without my normal post-PSIL visit blogging fuel.) The pride of survival there comes from having endured 87.5 hours of football in two days (I'm not sure what it is but the laws of TV physics cease to exist at mom-in-law's house, at least as relates to sports viewing), being "cosy" with 12 people, one of which was a nearly one year-old, in one small room for an entire weekend and not having my own coffee/bed/internet. But we made it.

I also survived turning 44 yesterday. Except that I've decided I'm going to write it as .44. As in caliber. As in magnum. Just sounds better somehow. Lane thinks I'm an idiot.

Tuesdays With Noirrie

2007-11-20T09:16:00.000-05:00

Respec

In the World of Warcraft, each class of character has three areas of specialization you can go into. Sometimes, you start in one then change your mind about how you want to play that character. Actually, I do this frequently. Yesterday, I respecced my Druid to the healing specialty. Quick, easy, cheap (at least the first time). So, this got me to thinking ... what if you could respec that easily in real life? Just make a quick trip to your trainer, pay them a bit of gold and, bam! new life specialty. Hmmmm. Interesting. If you could do this, what would you change?

Think about it.

Tuesdays With Noirrie

2007-11-13T11:35:00.000-05:00

Vacation

We returned from our annual trek to Branson, Missouri on Sunday evening.

Great things about vacations ...
and not-so-great things about vacations.

Getting out of town for a few days ...
but having to take your Mother-in-law.

Not having to cook, clean, or do any kind of chores ...
then having 87 loads of laundry to do when you return.

Getting to spend time together ...
in very close quarters.

Seeing all those gorgeous Christmas lights adorning everything ...
then coming home and still having Halloween decorations to take down.

Having someone kind and reliable to care for your pets while you're gone ...
then coming home to find that you accidentally locked the cat in your bedroom and all he had for a bathroom was a nice leather satchel.

Discovering lots of wonderful new places to eat ...
then having to cook again once you return.

That happy feeling you get upon returning home, glad to have gone, but equally glad to be back ...
then sending your Mother-in-law home first thing the next morning.

(Okay, that one was actually two 'greats'. I cheated)

Tuesdays With Noirrie

2007-11-06T09:13:00.000-05:00

Gray

Yes, I admit it. My hair has been going gray for some time now. I don't really mind. It's not THAT gray yet. Just random hairs here and there and, so far, it doesn't really look bad. The only thing I really mind about it is their texture. Why are they so WIRY? I mean, I'll be fixing my hair and have it all washed, dried, blown, coiffed, smoothed and then ... sproing! One of those grays springs right out of my 'do, sticking straight up into the air. What's up with that? Do they want to make sure they're noticed? Are they just rebellious? Are gray hairs the bad boys of the hairstyle world? Who knows.

I may be in trouble with the advancement of my grays though. I mentioned them yesterday and Lane reminded me of my long-term hair plans. Remember me saying that, when my hair got fully gray, I was going to let it grow super-long and start dressing like a hippie? Well, Lane does. And he reminded me of that. And he swears he's going to hold me to it. Hmmmm....

Tuesdays With Noirrie

2007-10-30T09:55:00.000-05:00

Yep, we're still freaks ...

Last year I revealed our Halloween freakishness to those of you who didn't already know about it. It hasn't abated. Some day I swear our neighbors are going to show up on our front lawn brandishing pitchforks and torches. Until then, I suppose we'll continue to be freaks. If you missed it (and if you care at all) you can see our decorations on my old blog:

http://dianasioux.blogspot.com/2006/10/and-what-does-this-say-about-me-i-love.html

and

http://dianasioux.blogspot.com/2006/10/halloween-freakishness-continued-as.html

It's all pretty much the same this year. I do try to add just one or two new things per year. This year it's this awesome skull that Carol made for me. Oh, and a lot more lights outside.

This cute little guy got added to the cemetery.

I have an idea for a ghost for the graveyard, but have been too busy (lazy?) to get it made. I actually started on it but it wasn't working out quite right so I stalled. Maybe that'll be my addition for next year. In the meantime ...

HAPPY HALLOWEEN !!

PSA

2007-10-25T10:01:00.000-04:00

When you are attending a concert or any other event where the expectation is that you will sit quietly and listen to the performers and/or speakers, please people ...

STFU!!

That is all.

Tuesdays With Noirrie

2007-10-23T10:30:00.000-04:00

Revelation

My whole two regular readers had, I'm sure (??), noticed that I didn't blog much for a while. In fact, that's how Tuesdays came to be. I wasn't randomly blogging so decided to make it a date. I wasn't really sure why I was slacking off so much. I thought I just wasn't feeling talkative (HA!) or that maybe there just really wasn't anything going on worth talking about. This weekend, I had a revelation. I wasn't blogging less often because less was happening. I was blogging less because I'd had less fuel. Huh? you say. If you've read my blog for a while, you might possibly remember a few PSIL (psycho sister-in-law) posts from the past. After having a very brief encounter with her this weekend, the epiphany hit that the lack of exposure to PSIL had contributed greatly to my reduced urge to blog. After all, this is my space to spew. And, generally, any encounter with PSIL, creates a great urge to spew.

SO ....

Steve had two tickets to the OSU-KSU game in Stillwater this weekend. His family being great KSU fans, he invited his brother (BIL) to go with him as a birthday treat for BIL. And, surprisingly, BIL accepted. Now, I must clarify the "surprisingly" part. Always in the past BIL has refused Steve when he's been invited to games or pretty much anything that doesn't include PSIL. She keeps him on a VERY short leash. But, with her new grand baby, she's been busy lately. And here I really must divert again for a minute ... When I say grand baby, I mean the child produced by her 21 year-old, won't work, frequently on drugs and usually drunk son knocking up his 17 year-old, completely irresponsible, spoiled rotten girlfriend and, rather than be concerned over this, PSIL was thrilled. But, the birth of PCHNHFTFWTPSH (poor child having no hope for the future with the parents she has) has freed up lots of time for BIL as PSIL is, most weekends, either visiting the baby or has the baby at their home for the weekend. SO, BIL was allowed to go to the game.

It was a night game. It was 1.5 hours from here. It was late when it was over. Steve and BIL had a blast. They very rarely get to spend time together just the two of them and I thought it was great. PSIL had told us she was coming for the weekend as well. I'm not sure when that changed. All I know is that she seems to have stalled out at her sister's house 15 minutes from here and never made it. Oh well. Not that I was heartbroken but it seems like, when you tell someone you're spending the weekend with them, courtesy would dictate a quick call to say you'd changed your mind when you do. Then again, this is PSIL we're talking about so the general rules of polite society do not apply.

Then ...

Despite telling us THEY would be here at 8 p.m. on Friday, she didn't allow BIL to come until Saturday afternoon. Really, just about in time to grab a bite to eat and then head to the game. Then she called here at 10 a.m. on Sunday absolutely furious. Why? Geez. I don't know. All I know is that I answered the phone and she asked me if BIL was there. When I said sure, I'd get him. She very acidly informed me that she did NOT want to talk to him. Um, okay. Just ask him what his plans for the day are. Um, BIL, what are your plans for the day? BIL responds with a typically male non-committal grunt. I passed that on. Oh, well now she's REALLY pissed. (I still am not sure why but wasn't about to ask her.) So she huffily informs me that she'll just go run with her sister then. Um, okay. BIL finally left and went to meet his doom about two hours later. Poor guy. At least we were able to give him about 11 hours freedom from her. Even now, I have no clue why she was so furious. But I'll bet poor BIL found out in a hurry.

Ah, and just think ... the holidays are coming and we'll be getting to see her soon. Stand by for future spewing.

Tuesdays With Noirrie

2007-10-16T09:54:00.001-04:00

Books ....

A little sad here. A couple of years ago (? - not sure of the timing and am too lazy to go look it up) Sue Monk Kidd released her first novel, The Secret Life of Bees. It was a WONDERFUL novel and if you've not read it, stop, go do so now. You'll love it. I know I did. That's why I was so happy when I noticed a new book by SMK on the shelf - The Mermaid Chair. Starting a new book is always just a tiny bit like Christmas anyway. First you see the pretty outside package, pick it up, perhaps even fondle it a bit. Then you crack open the wrapping and get your first glimpse of what lies inside. Finally, you read through it, discovering the complete gift. This delicious anticipation is even sweeter when said novel is a new one by a particularly beloved author.

I'm sad to report that Mermaid was a big disappointment to me. I can't pinpoint the exact reason. The writing was good. The story should have been good. But, for me, it was all just "okay". By the end I was wading through it, not because I was still interested, but because I had come that far and was determined to see it through. There was nothing at all that really captured me about it. In the case of this book, I excitedly unwrapped the gift only to find that it contained socks and underwear. And not the kind of underwear your hubby would buy you at Victoria's Secret. The kind your granny would give you. Anyone else agree? Or am I alone in this assessment?

I re-started a Stephen King novel last night. Or, more accurately, a collection of novellas ... The Bachman Books. Have you all read a SK book yet? If not, stop now and go do so. Do this before you read Bees. It's okay. This'll wait. Seriously. Even those of you who say you don't like scary books. Did you know that 90% of SK's books aren't scary? And quite a few of them aren't even all that weird (although I must admit that the majority of them are). I recommend The Stand for a first SK read. Yah, it's seriously long. Quit whining and just do it. If you want to be a big baby you can read the original, abridged version which contained only abut 2,847,938 pages as opposed to the later-released unabridged one which contains 3,469,324 pages. But if you're gonna commit, commit. Go for the unabridged. You won't be sorry.

Oh, and when reading any SK book, always read the prologue. I don't always read these in books. Mostly, they're boring. I usually start them, just in case they contain information I need to have to enjoy the book, but get bored (impatient?) before I finish so skip the rest and hop into the novel. Never, ever skip the prologues in SK's books. They're as entertaining as the books themselves.

I'll expect a report in two weeks.

World of Warcraft ...wha huh?

2007-10-10T09:57:00.001-04:00

I couldn't believe it when I saw this commercial on TV this morning.

Tuesdays with Noirrie

2007-10-09T09:18:00.000-04:00

BTW, that name does make sense. You know the book. My main WoW character is Noirre (that's her on my profile - ain't she pretty?). So ... Tuesdays with Noirrie.

Dianaology

[Brought to you by a long-ago SS blog challenge that I didn’t do at the time.]

ARCHAEOLOGY: the study of material remains

My house is already well on its way to becoming an archaeologist’s gleeful find. In recent years, I’ve tried to be very good and clear out the various no-longer-used debris of a normal life. And yet, there are things that escape my cleansing frenzy from time to time. There a number of elderly items that have been saved on purpose … the Little Bo Peep Storybook doll my mom had as a girl and later made into a Christmas tree angel, the “squaw” dress my great aunt made and wore when she was 15, the various family heirlooms my mother-in-law has been passing on to us for years. And then there are those ancients which need not stay, but have escaped my notice. A pair of size 4 jeans tucked away in the top of Levi’s closet – what are these doing here? My home is a haven for both intentional and accidental artifacts.

BIBLIOLOGY: the study of publication

Ah, books. You will find books in literally every room of my house. Even the bathrooms. I’ve tried more in recent years not to collect quite so many of them. But some books must be kept. I own every single book Stephen King has ever written. Most in hard cover. There are a few other authors I collect – John Grisham, J.K. Rowling, Terry Goodkind - but none so prolific as SK. If I were only allowed to have one book, ever, for the rest of my life, I would have to keep SK’s The Stand. If you haven’t read it, do.

CARDIOLOGY: the study of the heart

Dictionary.com defines heart, amongst other things, as:
* The center of the total personality, esp. with reference to intuition, feeling, or emotion.
* The center of emotion, especially as contrasted to the head as the center of the intellect.

Much as I hate to admit it, I’m an emotional creature far more often than an intellectual one. Oh, in many circumstance, my head plans and organizes. In all too many others, my heart leads a blind charge.

PHYSIOLOGY: the study of physical function

Average height, average weight, average brown hair, average, average, average. Seriously, I could probably rob a bank and no one would remember me. Should the coroner ever need identifying marks, I do have a few scars. Never seen them? Probably never will then.

AXIOLOGY: the study of the nature of values and value judgments

Values. Those are trickier when raising kids than one might think. I’m a mostly honest and law-abiding citizen. Gasp! Mostly?? Oh, come on, are you really telling me you don’t speed on occasion?? Are you telling me you’ve never picked a grape in the produce aisle at the grocery store and quickly popped it in your mouth? Never fibbed to someone when they needed reinforcement, not honesty? But, when your kids are watching you, these little dishonesties are examples of correct behavior. Or incorrect behavior. But, when they see you doing it, they assume it’s right. Or, at least until they, say, take driver’s ed and then constantly monitor your speed. I never have to worry about speeding again with my own, private on-board speed limit consultant. But having kids does make one examine one’s own behavior a little closer. And such scrutiny is not always comfortable.

TECHNOLOGY: usage and knowledge of tools

I used to be much more technologically adept than I am now. Oh, I’ve never been a whiz at any of that stuff, but I could at least program the VCR and perform the functions of the average tech consumer. And then Lane came along. He’s just so darned quick with that stuff that I’ve allowed myself to become lazy and just hand those things over to him. I don’t know what I’m going to do when he leaves for college. Have to find my own two technology feet again I suppose.

GENEALOGY: the study of relationships within families

Family … both the blessing and bane of my existence. I come from a biggish family – five kids. Most of us get together on a regular basis. The ins and outs and ups and downs of our relationships are ever-changing, endlessly annoying, continually interesting, and forever precious. Still, I won’t deny that there’s days I wish I were an only child. And an orphaned one at that.

My day

2007-10-05T09:23:00.001-04:00

Well, this is handy. I no longer have to recap my day when someone asks what I did. I'll simply refer them to this video.

Tuesday’s With Noirrie

2007-10-02T09:44:00.000-04:00

I have been a very bad blogger for some time now. You know it. I know it. What’s the reason for this? Hmmm, I’m not certain. Perhaps I’ve been lazy. (Who, me??) Perhaps nothing much has been happening. Perhaps the blogging muse has simply deserted me. Or maybe, just maybe, it’s because I’ve spent so little time with Psycho Sister-In-Law recently that there’s been no fuel for my fire.

I’ve made an attempt to keep this blog from becoming a what’s-been-happening forum. Why? Dunno. It started out as my forum to blow smoke when I needed. It’s my place to mull over things that pinged my radar, that got my hackles up, that struck me as particularly incongruous. But, either those things haven’t been happening lately – and, really, those things do happen often – or I just simply haven’t been taking time to write them down. More likely the latter I suspect. So, in order to rectify this, I shall attempt to blog, at the very least, each Tuesday morning. Why Tuesday? Oh, no particular reason. I’ll just say that Tuesday’s tend to be my productive mornings. No special reason for that, they just are. Okay, FINE, damn you! Tuesday’s are Warcraft maintenance mornings so I usually get loads of miscellaneous chores done, including most of my computer updating of calendars, correspondence, etc. Anyhoos, since I’m usually here and not in Azeroth, it might be a good plan. We shall see.

Thought for the week … I really, seriously, desperately need to get a king-sized bed for Steve and I. Or, even twin beds. Better yet would be separate bedrooms but that’s not possible until we kick one of the kids out. Now, I know that sounds sad to you singletons or short-time marrieds. Trust me, give yourself several years of marital bliss and you’ll probably understand. It’s not that I don’t love him. It’s not that I don’t want to spend any … um … “awake” time in bed with him. I just don’t much want to sleep with him any more. He was out of town all weekend. I sleep sooooooo well when he’s gone. And then, in the morning, I just have to smooth the blankets down a bit and the bed’s all made. When he’s home, he and/or I tend to toss and turn all night. For one thing, he has developed the habit of late of scootching over to my side before I come to bed. Oh, did I mention that I don’t like him touching me when we’re actually sleeping? So now I have to make the decision to lay there and put up with it, meaning I can’t fall asleep, or try to push him over to his side, thus risking waking him which makes him grumpy. In the mornings, the covers look like a WWF match has taken place in them. A king-size would greatly reduce most of these problems. Not eliminate, but alleviate to some degree. Now I just need to figure out how to convince him that we really, truly, desperately need a king. Maybe I’ll go out of town for a night or two, hope he sleeps really well when I’m gone, then make a full-court press for one as soon as I get home while the memories of those blissful nights are still fresh in is mind.

Hmmm, that’s actually not a bad plan. Now just to figure out where to go. Anyone want a house guest for the weekend?

And the clouds parted …

2007-09-19T09:59:00.000-04:00

… and a light shone down from above and lit the face of a humble hunter. And it was good.

I don’t remember how I first found Big Red Kitty’s blog. But, since that date, I have become an avid reader. BRK is not only highly informative, but he’s just plain amusing to read most of the time. Being a total non-gamer, there’s zillions of things in WoW that I don’t fully understand. I play, I learn, I grow. But, often, there are questions I don’t even realize I should be asking until someone answers them. BRK is a good source for just such answers. A couple of days ago I linked BRK’s blog here. And then … BRK his mighty Dwarven self posted a comment! I am humbled. I am blessed. I have been touched by the Big Red Hand of Awesomeness. (And at the same time I vaguely wondered how he knew I linked him? Does his all-knowing, all-seeing eye reach even beyond Azeroth? Apparently so.)

Of course, reading BRK’s blog makes me realize on a daily basis just how little I really know about WoW in some ways. Oh, I’m a soloing demon. One doesn’t make all those trips to the cemetery without learning something. But, honestly, I’m pretty much a Carebear. I like to instance but don’t often get the opportunity to do so. Even so, I feel I’ve learned even more through these grouping ventures. But reading BRK’s discussions of end-game groups, stats, recommendations and, well, all of it, makes this little Draenei’s head spin. It makes me realize even more that I really have no business in this game. If I could change my character’s name, I swear I’d change it to Stillanoob.

Am I ready for end-game? Not even close. Then again, hunters are one of the (“the”?) most highly played classes and, in fact, two of the three 70s added to our guild recently have been hunters. Those to be added to the several 70 hunters we already had. I highly doubt my services will be needed. I’m coming to realize more and more that level 70 represents end-game for me in a different manner than it does for most. For me, it’s pretty much going to mean the end of the game in some ways. I’ll finish skilling up those professions, get some decent gear when others need help in the regular 5-mans, feel powerful when helping lower guildies and then …. ?

But, as usual, I digress. If you play WoW, especially if you play a hunter, check out BRK’s blog. Kitty is good ... Kitty is wise ....

And they're OFF!

2007-08-22T09:15:00.000-04:00

Ever since the boys were big enough to be involved in activities, I have wanted to slap the holy crap out of the person who coined the phrase the "lazy days of summer". Our summers have been packed full, possibly even fuller than the school years. It never really seemed like we had a true break from the busy-ness of the rest of the year.

And then came the summer of 2007.

We actually have had a lazy summer overall. Lane worked a lot during the first half. But that meant working 5-6 hours a day. That left the rest of his day free. And even that didn't affect me much as he can drive himself to work. Levi went to 4-H camp. Again, just another mini-break for me. Even our vacation was somewhat lazy as we didn't really do a whole lot. I've even been very lazy about blogging as I'm sure my one, lone reader will have noticed.

And then school started ...

Thursday - school, open house at the middle school
Friday - school, youth symphony rehearsals
Saturday - youth symphony rehearsals all day
Sunday - an actual day of rest *sigh*
Monday - two orthodontist appointments for Lane in Wichita requiring us to stay there all day
Tuesday - school, orthodontist appointment for Levi
Today - school, guests for dinner which has sent me into a cleaning frenzy (because, to be honest, I've also been pretty lazy about cleaning this summer)

Whew! Ever hear of easing into things? Instead we kind of got SLAMMED into our new schedule. I guess you'd call this the immersion technique. I'm sure we'll get used to it, well, because we're going to HAVE to get used to it.

In the meantime, I think I'll take a little nap.

Funny Fourteen

2007-08-16T12:02:00.000-04:00

Levi turns fourteen today. I'll dub him Funny Fourteen. As in it's funny how quickly these fourteen years have gone by. As in, he can be really funny (when he wants to) with that quirky sense of humor of his. As in, funny ... I don't remember him getting taller than me. As in, what's that funny smell coming from his shoes? As in he's really funny about some things - like the tendency to wear long-sleeved shirts, often layered UNDER a t-shirt, even when it's 100-degrees outside.

He's funny, but he's mine and I wouldn't trade him for anything.

Writers

2007-06-23T20:42:00.001-04:00

The boys are very much math and science guys. Neither cares very much for writing. And, as we all know, we usually do better at those things we enjoy. Still, they sometimes surprise me with their ability to write well.

A Life Destroyed
By Lane
8th Grade

A life destroyed.
No – not by drugs, nor by homicide,
but by self.
The criminal – the careless procrastinator,
destroying life by sloth.

But I – I choose to be different.
I choose to do my best.
I will not laze about like a dog near death.

As I grow older, I will watch the sloths and the “cools”,
fulfilling their pointless and insignificant lives.
I will be different
I will be my best
I will not be the guy
holding the “Oil Change $19.99!” sign.

I Am
By Levi
7th Grade

I am a silent guy who loves music
I wonder what my life will be like
I hear the orchestra play a thousand days
I see the music dance in my eyes
I want to be able to play anything
I am a silent guy who loves music

I pretend to play perfectly, never faltering
I fell the strings vibrate and make sound
I touch the sound and make it beautiful
I worry my ears will be damaged
I cry for those who can’t see its beauty
I am a silent guy who loves music

I understand music is the voice of the soul
I say it is the sound of a spirit
I dream I will be able to play music all my life
I try to play better, always improving
I hope my dreams will be true
I am a silent guy who loves music

Things I love and hate, or love to hate, or hate to love or .... whatever

2007-05-22T09:51:00.000-04:00

[Brought to you by the weekly SS blog challenge.]

I LOVE ...

... the SIGHT of my freshly-mown lawn. Mostly because that means I won't have to do it again for at least a few days.

... the SMELL of my freshly-mown lawn. [See reason above.]

... the TASTE of a really great latte. [Brief related hate - I hate the fact that living in a really small town means that there is no place to get a really great latte.]

... the SOUND of silence. It means the guys are all gone and I have the house, and the computer, all to myself.

... the FEEL of that first warm spring breeze on bare skin. No, you perverts. I'm not running around outside naked. I'm talking about bare arms, those first sweet days when you can go outside in short sleeves.

I HATE...

... the SIGHT of long grass in my lawn. It means I need to get my butt out there and mow it.

... the SMELL popcorn. There, I said it. Flog me if you will all you popcorn lovers. It makes going to the movies much less pleasant than it otherwise would be.

... the TASTE popcorn. [Ditto above.]

... the SOUND my dog barking, because she Won't. Freaking. Stop!

... the FEEL you get after you spot a spider near you and get that creepy-crawly feeling like one of them is on you.

Hmmm, maybe I should re-think that?

2007-05-17T19:14:00.000-04:00

Lane is a typical teenager. IE: Anything Mom says, does or thinks is lame. I don't mind. That's his job. That was my job when I was a teenager. However, when I told him what my retirement plan is, he actually said that sounded cool.

To fully understand (or probably completely NOT understand it), you have to know me now. Nice, middle-class Mom. Nice, middle-class home and minivan. Doesn't work outside the home in order to do the kid and family thing. In the PTO. Attends every concert, soccer game, track meet, etc. snapping photos all the way. Volunteers. Fund raises.

So what does that have to do with my retirement plan?

My plan is this ... when my hair starts getting grey, or at least a lot greyer than it is now, I'm going to start growing it long. By the time it's completely grey, I want it to be really long. I'm going to wear it loose, or maybe in two braids. I'm going to start wearing those long, flowy peasant skirts and sandals. I'm going to move to Colorado Springs and open a little shop in that totally hippy area of Old Manitou Springs and sell beaded jewelry to the tourists. Heck, I might even start smoking pot. This has been my plan for a good long time.

And when I told Lane my plan, he thought it sounded really cool. In light of that, I'm wondering if I should re-think the whole thing?

The Power of Words

2007-05-08T08:43:00.000-04:00

[Brought to you by the weekly SS Blog Challenge:
Words can be powerful. Think of an occasion when someone blessed you with their words. (Conversely, words can be powerfully hurtful, too. Write about one of those instances if you must, but try to think of a positive memory instead.) Describe the circumstances surrounding the words that were powerful to you. Who said it? How did you react? How does it affect you today?]

Words are powerful things. They can boost, they can crush. They can titillate, stimulate, irritate, motivate and a multitude of other 'ates'. This challenge reminds me of a poem I once read.

A Choice of Weapons
(Phyllis McGinley)

Sticks and stones
Are hard on bones,
Armed with angry art,
Words can sting
Like anything,
But silence breaks the heart.

Some of the words that have had the most impact on my life were bits of advice given to me in my younger years by older, and infinitely wiser, friends.

The first ...
Buddy Deane once told me there are two things a person should never, ever say unless they truly mean them. 1) I love you. 2) I want a divorce. I've had men tell me the former when I knew it wasn't true and it deflated my opinion of them. My Mom was married before my Dad and her husband told her the latter every time they argued. She finally got tired of hearing it and agreed. I agree with Bud. Never say either of these unless they are meant.

The second ...
When I was debating leaving my job at the bank to become a stay-at-home Mom. I wanted to do it, but giving up the security and seniority of that job was daunting. I was talking this over with Mabel, one of our CSRs. She told me, "You are a very valued employee of this bank. They trust you, they rely on you, they need you. But they can replace you. And, if you leave here, in five years half the people here won't even remember who you were. But you will be known the rest of your life for the kind of kids that you raise." And she was right. I go in the place now and don't know most of the employees I meet. And the ones that matter to me, I still see. But every day now I am doing a job that's more rewarding and has more long-term benefits than anything I could have done there, even if I had been the president of the place. And I love it.

Things I don’t get …

2007-05-02T08:44:00.000-04:00

Not things I don’t know. That list would be unfathomably endless. And, let’s face it, for the most part I won’t know that I don’t know them until the occasion arises that I need to know them and then realize that I don’t. So, in the meantime, here are a few things that I don’t “get”:

• The Bachelor and The Bachelorette. Look at those people. They’re gorgeous. How hard is it to get them paired off?

• Flip-flops anywhere outside of the beach. Especially in the winter.

• Pretty much anything my sister-in-law says, thinks or does

• Nascar

• Thongs that show above your pants

• Flesh that shows above your pants if it’s not completely firm and pudge-free.

• Being more concerned about the quality of your house than the quality of your life (no shoes, no food, no pets, no fun!)

• Not attending your child’s events if you’re able at all

• Not taking photos of your child’s events even if you do attend

• The fuss over Grey’s Anatomy. I’ve watched it. Seems like just another medical show to me. I've obviously missed something.

• Why my dog barks at those of us who live in the same house she does. Every. Single. Time. We. Come. In. Sometimes even when we just come out of the bathroom.

• People who don’t read books. And are perversely proud of that.

• Why the 15-pound, fully-clawed cat allows the 8-pound, de-clawed cat to torture her. Why doesn’t she just kick his ass?

• Why I’m always amazingly productive on Tuesday mornings. Oh, wait. That one I DO get. That’s the morning Warcraft is down for maintenance.

• How otherwise rational adults can become utterly hooked on a computer game. Wait. I actually get that one, too.

• Purse pooches. WTF? Oh, I know who started that ridiculous trend. But even more unfathomable to me is why anyone would want to emulate her.

• Women, or men for that matter, who love shoes. I know I’m in the minority here, but I still don’t get it.

And that, really, is just the tip of the Things I Don't Get iceberg.

Finally! I'm cool

2007-04-30T08:25:00.000-04:00

I was never cool in my school years. I wasn’t cool in my 20s. I wasn’t cool in my 30s. But, finally, at the ripe old age of 43, I am finally cool. I know this because I have the official endorsement of five 7th and 8th grader boys. And if teen boys don’t know cool, who does? Levi’s SAGE group had a Robotics competition Saturday. I scored big points right off the bat by bringing donuts. (And, not to change the subject, but it was amazing how six boys plowed through 2-dozen donuts in about, oh, 30 seconds.) But then the other boys found out I play Warcraft. I was quite amused at the shock and awe that greeted this information. And surprised at the numbers of questions they asked me. The idea of a MOM playing WoW was obviously completely beyond the scope of their reckoning. I was told more than once that I am “cool”. Levi was told that his mom is “cool”.

Ah, after all those years of nerddom, I am finally cool. I have to admit, it feels pretty good

I always think of the moms ...

2007-04-18T09:22:00.000-04:00

It's amazing how much becoming a Mom changes your perspective on things. In some arenas, it's changed my entire way of thinking. Even after the boys were born I never would have seen myself in the role of stay-at-home-Mom. I was busy climbing the banking ladder, doing well, and making steady progress. I had a wonderful sitter who the boys considered to be a third grandma. They were well cared for. And I was doing my thing. And then, one day, when work interfered yet again with my Mom-job, it hit me that I was in the wrong place. And now here I am. Being a Mom has not only changed thinking, but my entire way of behaving at times.

Last year when Cameron died, I was filled with grief for his family and friends, especially Lane. But, more than anything else the thought of what his Mom was going through tortured me.

This shift is never more emphasized than at times like now. When I saw the first news reports of the horrific events that happened at Virgina Tech this week, I was filled with shock and sorrow like everyone else with any human feeling at all. But immediately, on the heels of that, I began imagining the Moms. Those Moms across the country who have kids there. I could imagine one of my sons being at that school, seeing those reports and not being able to reach him to know that he was safe. How torturous were those minutes and hours for those Moms? And I can't even begin to imagine how the Moms, those Moms for whom that 'I'm okay' call never came, are coping.

Being a Mom is a wonderful job. Well, most of the time. But sometimes it's a heartbreaking job, even when you are not the one directly affected. But we're all affected to a degree. My prayers and tears fall for the families of those students. Especially the Moms.

Does this mean I have to forgive him?

2007-04-15T18:54:00.000-04:00

Lane turned 15 last month. Lane got his restricted license last month. I wanted to get him a cell phone for his birthday as the RL meant he'd be driving to and from school and work alone. Steve was opposed to this idea. After all, he 'never had a phone when he started driving'! Um, true, dear. On the other hand, you barely had a house phone back when you started driving! But I wanted Lane to have one, mainly for my convenience and peace of mind.

So I got him one.

And it's way cooler than mine. I always get just the basic, makes calls, receives calls kind of phone. But Lane's was to be a gift so I got him a nice little slider. It has a camera. It has games. It can show a photo of who's calling if you have it programmed right.

But the worst cut of all?? The absolute you-suck factor?? He was able to download the ringtone I really, really wanted ... Wizards of Winter by Trans-Siberian Orchestra. Harumph. That was the last straw. I was actually a teeny bit pissed about it. (Yeah, I know that's silly but ....)

But I guess I have to forgive him. Yesterday he fooled with my phone a bit, updated the Ringtone Jukebox and, in a very few minutes, had TSO's Christmas Eve in Sarajevo as my tone.

Who's gonna fix my crap when he leaves home??

And the slap on the head goes to ....

2007-04-03T10:06:00.000-04:00

Our local newspaper recently had an article about the controversial PPV vaccine. This isn’t about that. Although I do have pretty strong viewpoints on that subject and will happily share them with you in person if you ever care to know them. The article didn’t contain anything new as far as the PPV debate goes, but the following caught my eye:

“And one also has to wonder, if Merck had first come out with a version of the vaccine intended for boys – who, after all, are involved in passing the virus to girls – would the pressure against the drug be the same? I think not. The idea of young men having sex simply does not cause the same sort of panic, the same sort of hand-wringing protectionism.”

Now, if this were the first time I had seen or heard such a viewpoint expressed, I would simply shrug and pass it off as the author, Ms. Mary Sanchez’s, off-base opinion. Unfortunately, it is not. And I have heard such all too often to believe this is simply one author’s naiveté, ignorance or just plan lack of having sons of her own. And I do hope those who express this opinion are not parents of boys. If they are, that makes this sentiment all the more frightening.

You see, I do have sons. Teen sons. And I worry every bit as much about them having sex as you parents of girls worry about your daughters. Long gone are the days when a young person’s biggest risk from sex was an unwanted pregnancy or an embarrassing and uncomfortable condition that could be cleared up with a round of antibiotics. Nowadays, one can catch things that can kill. I worry about that.

There is a seventh grade girl at my younger son’s school who is pregnant. My first reaction upon learning this was shock followed by a profound sadness for that child. And, at 12 or 13 years old, a child she is. Would I be horrified if she were my daughter? Of course I would. Would I be equally aghast if my seventh grade son were the father of that baby? You bet your ass. You see, there are some of us who believe that, if our son should make a girl pregnant, he is every bit as responsible as she is. And do I want my 13 year-old son suddenly burdened with the responsibilities of a child of his own when his biggest worries should be passing his next algebra test? No way.

Putting the risk of pregnancy and disease aside, there are other ramifications. While my boys might be physically ready for sex, and that only in the strictest biological sense of the word, I know they are in no way intellectually or emotionally prepared. If for no other reason, I hope they will wait until they are a good deal older before they begin having sex.

As a mother of boys, I am thoroughly sick of hearing people say that no one worries about boys having sex. Yes, people do worry. Parents of boys worry. School administrators worry. Health care professionals worry. And, I’m guessing, parents of girls worry. After all, if my boys are having sex, who do you imagine it will be with?

Please, people, join us here in 2007. Those 1950s attitudes about boys and sex were outdated, oh, a few decades ago.

Starting Over

2007-04-02T10:59:00.000-04:00

Okay, I'm going to try this again. Had a Blogger account and things were working fine. Tried the beta. Things were still working fine. And then things weren't working fine. Had to find a very round-about way of even getting in so I could post. Okay, I could deal with that. Then, when Blogger switched to the new format, had to find a round-and-around-about way of getting in. This was getting nutty. Still, I dealt with it. Then, one fine day, after taking that very circuitous route into my blog, I discovered that I had lost the option to format font size, etc. All righty. I know defeat when I smell it.

Here I am with a brand-new blog. So far, this one seems to be working fine. Then again, this is my first post. :/ We'll see how this one goes.

So, new blog...
... same old crap no one wants to read.