to quote Bugs Bunny, "Bon Voyageeee!"

And to quote Napoleon, "yesssssss!"

It's finally here! My much awaited and anticipated vacation back to the Ton's...to see Jeremy.

My flight leaves in the a.m., I've been seeing this coming for a long long time...however...it's only just now occurred to me that I really need to start packing. I mean I've known all along that I will have to pack at some point (I'm not that stupid), but sorta all the sudden, it dawned on me, "Piper, you must pack NOW!" Can you see the light? It was a florescent one, it made me look peaked as they tend to, but then again it might have been the punch-in-the-gut nausea that immediately ailed me upon realizing that procrastination is perhaps my least valuable quirk.

Before packing can really begin, laundry must be finished up, I need to find some sort of something that resembles luggage. I am scrambling to figure out what it is that I actually do, step-by-step, to assemble myself on a daily basis... waaa? shampoo? what next? my watch? no, silly girl, it's conditioner, you goose!

Mom would tell me to make a list. Good advice. Let me finish wasting time blogging and do that.

Now I'm going to sign out of bloggerville for 12 days, starting right now, because I have to pack. I have to call my doctor for Adderall when I get back, it's all too clear to me tonight, as my mind is scattered to winds, I have issues with staying on track. I think the issue's name is "Mother-of-small-children-who-repeat-your-name-over-and-over-and-over-til-you-want-to-suck-on-a-tail-pipe-while-demanding-food-and-drink-and-help-to-wipe-and-never-gets-a-minute-to-catch-her-breath." Sheesh, sounds like I need a vacation!

No, the boys aren't going with me! (yay!)

3 in the loo...

One of the best bits of advice I got when I first became a mom was about how to sooth a cranky baby. When you've done all you can think of; he's not hungry, he's not poopy, he's not sleepy (he might be but won't), when he doesn't need to burp, when you've walked him, rocked him, hummed and sang...what else can you do? The answer is: put him in water. They get calm and centered and happy...like a spa day would be for Mommy. This has boded well for the years beyond infancy as well.

What's the most fun about being three has to be the freedom in the bathroom. Noah could probably spend an entire morning in the bathroom, pouring water from one cup to another, sinking ships, and drowning "inja" turtles, and blowing straw bubbles...as long as he had some goldfish to snack on, he'd be set. He's also learning to dress himself, and often when it's time to undress for the bath I find little surprises...see below.

inside out and backwards

my Papa

Rev. Perry A. Sanders. The wonderful man who delights in me and perhaps the one person on earth whom I am certain loves me unconditionally. God must have put him on earth just for me, his "french fry kid."

He's 86 now. His truck has a flat tire so yesterday I took him the Sunday paper and, per his request, two cheese burgers and two cherry pies from McDonald's. We chatted about the usual; his muscle relaxers (ambien), his arthur-itis, the grass that's so green because of all the recent rain. Then without warning I just started to cry. I "let it out" in the safety of his presence. He listened, compassionately and kindly, and told me how proud he is of me for raising my boys "right." He told me that his ears are there for me, and that they always will be for the rest of my life. This implies, of course, the inevitable. He won't be alive much longer, but I think what he was saying is that he will always be with me. I have to stop and catch my breath, it's hard because of the weight of that kind of love. It's like in that moment everything inside of me, including my breath, is released and replaced with his adoration and warmth. I don't think love is a big enough word.

I dread that first day of my life when he's no longer a phone call away. I can't imagine.

He sings. His voice is a deep and rumbly bass. He touches God and all of the insides of anyone who listens. He will dance a jig too, to what I think is the jug blower and skiffle music of his youth which he probably is listening to in his head. He has spent hours, no days and weeks, making mix tapes for everyone in our family. He records all his old records, music no one else knows. Then he records each tape after with the one he just made before, producing these umpteenth generation recordings that are so grainy and scratchy that you can't actually listen to them at all. He doesn't know this. Me, my cousins, my aunts, we all just keep the tapes and will forever. They are inscribed with minute old man handwriting listing the songs, they might as well be love letters, because that's what they actually are. He's lived humbly all his life. He's had hardships to which none of mine can compare. He's meek, he's wise. He is the shining example of what a Godly man is, and for me no man on earth will ever be able to match his worth.

thank you Mr. McCarthy

The Road by Cormac McCarthy is beyond my ability to describe. I'm only a few chapters into it because I keep re-reading paragraphs and sentences over and over again. I'm trying to absorb it, I'm trying to make sure that I get it, grasp it if it's possible. Mr. McCarthy is a mastermind. This is a beautiful book and his writing has me thinking about the smallest things in different ways. I love that. I love being reminded that my train of thought isn't the only train that rolls through the station. Yes I know he was just on Oprah, I was aware of him before her show, but I must say that getting to see the rare interview with Mr. McCarthy is what brought my true admiration of him as a man. If you are a reader read this book. Don't read this book if you are only comfortable in the shallow end. I consider myself a reader, but with this opus I'm struggling to tread water in the deepest part of the ocean, albeit with a smile on my face. Don't you just love how a great book can do that to you.

I'll re post once I finish, it may be awhile.


An excerpt:

"He took great marching steps into the nothingness, counting them against his return. Eyes closed, arms oaring. Upright to what? Something nameless in the night, lode or matrix. To which he and the stars were common satellite. Like the great pendulum in its rotunda scribing through the long day movements of the universe of which you may say it knows nothing and yet know it must."

I could cry.

continuing to seek clarification...

I'm not really sure, but I'm definitely beginning to wonder if maybe my three year old might have a speech impediment. What I mean is that he has trouble saying certain letters...t, s, r, or any combination of those. Like he can't say "truck" or "train" or "trash", he says "kwuck" and "kwain" and "kwass can". He also can't get s and p to line up, "spoon" is "boon".

I've never talked baby talk to my boys. I've always thought that doing that with kids was nothing short of insulting and I believe it really inhibits their ability to learn. I've always just spoken normally, like I would to an adult. And I know it's not fair to compare one child to another, but by the time Jackson was three he had a very large vocabulary and spoke articulately. I was told by many people though that he was uncommon and that most kids aren't like that. I think the deal with that might have been that from the day after Jackson was born, literally, I have read to him constantly and also because I got to be a stay home Mom with him so I conversed with him constantly. I do the same things with Noah, but he has been a daycare kid his whole life. I really don't know if that makes any sort of difference at all, but I feel guilty about not being able to give the same things to Noah that I was able to give to Jackson.

Noah is certainly a talker. Getting him to shush at all is all but impossible. And he knows lots of words and has a good vocabulary, it's just that he has a problem pronouncing words even after I've slowed him down and worked with him on sounding out the word. He just can't seem to form them in his sweet little mouth. I know I need to talk to my doctor, and I'm seeing speech pathology in our near future, but this might just be me trying to be overly proactive. I don't know what age it is that things like this are considered a real concern to doctors.


What do any of you know about this kind of stuff?

see the little heart on the floor? "Mom, I made you "howt"."

my visual DNA

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embarrassing clarification...

Okay. I still can't believe I did that ridiculous post about my hormonal impulses regarding Ami James. I vowed to myself many many posts ago that I would not go back and delete posts from my blog anymore. This is because I'm working at not being ashamed or embarrassed of myself so much, just getting to know and accepting myself, in all my silly grandeur. I might really embarrass myself from time to time, but I think that's just life, and not running from crap makes you better right? My interpretation of blogging is that it's really just an online diary, and I don't go through my diary and rip out pages, rather I refer to them for future reference and clarification of my own self. So, that said, yes I am moderately embarrassed about that post, and in addition I feel like I have to say for the record that Ami is by no means my #1. Far from it folks. He was more like a glorious one night distraction from the fantastical man whom I've been loving for eons. His name is Dave.





This man is actually, as I've come to learn, a man who can be admired for real substance, not just his hotness. He's intelligent, very kind, extraordinarily talented, and funny. I like him a lot. So, like in that old episode of Friends where they each name their top 5, I have to say that for the last, oh say 12 years, he's been my #1. If you need proof of this you can ask my friend Tim...he's known me for like 15 years, he can vouch. I first noticed Dave when I discovered his striking resemblance to my first boyfriend, and if you knew him you'd agree, but once I started paying attention Dave I really began to delight in him for lots of reasons, not the least of which is his homina-homina-homina-hot-hot-hotiness. The man straight exudes sex appeal!

Now that I've embarrassed myself again, I am vowing to get back on my mature woman horse and live in reality. In less than a week I will be seeing Jeremy, he's the "real" man in my life, and life down here on earth, when my head is out of the clouds, is amazing because he is in it. Later I will tell you all about Jeremy, he's super fantastic!


Now here's something that can be enjoyed.

photo ops

he made that

this is the "stop hassling me with your camera" face.

this is personal acheivment at it's finest.

I will never stop loving this picture.

undies and one deeeelicious man...

Somehow, seemingly in the course of one week, both of my sons have had growth spurts that have turned their under carriage covers into useless laundry. None of Jackson's boxers fit him now... almost none of them. I just stocked up on new undies about a month ago, okay maybe it's been six months or so. So now, Noah has handed down undies out the wazoo, and Jackson is switching out the two remaining pair that fit him every other day. Noah had a slew of marvel comic briefs, in every color and super hero. Now what am I supposed to do with them? I don't remember what I did with Jackson's when he grew out of them...I vaguely remember throwing them away because who really wants hand-me-down underpants? What do you other Mom's do in this situation? I suppose if I were a twisted kind of crafty type girl I could cut out the heroes, patch them together and make a blanket for Noah, but, eeewwwwww. I'll have to go shopping this weekend I guess.




In other news...I'm finding myself to be daydreaming about a certain fellow who's probably the sexiest! hottest! man I can think of in present day. I want to touch him on his muscles and I could pretty much just stare at him all day and night. I've never been a Tiger Beat or Teen Bop gal...I never plastered any boys on my bedroom walls. Mainly, maybe, because I never liked pretty boys, and also because my mother wouldn't have stood for it. I wasn't missing anything. This stud though makes me ga-ga though, weak at the knees, slurry, and provokes many uncommon twinges. I read another blog the other day that belongs to this guy in Chicago or somewhere, he posted about a trip he made to Miami and how he was driving down the street and saw the shop, and Ami (oooooh baby) was standing out front. He said that Ami was a lot shorter than he seems on TV. This is a real bummer. I'm a tall girl...5'9". I can't date anyone shorter than me, and frankly, anything under 6' is sorta out of the question. Okay, okay, I know I won't ever date Ami James so it doesn't matter at all. Also, I'm absolutely certain that I am not his type, but whatever...in fantasy you can have anything you want. One brief and shining moment wouldn't hurt either of us though when you get right down to it. I've decided to plaster his picture all over this post...and then I will snap out of it. I'm too busy to allow my thoughts to dawdle on complete irrelevance, it's just that Miami Ink comes on Tuesday nights, and there's more than one episode, and I have to watch them, and soooo my mind has been all up in his business.


There! Now I'm snapped. Or maybe I've snapped? I think I've snapped.

it comes and goes...

The best part of my day is the end of it, I've probably said that a million times. When the little heads are rested on pillows, when the dishes are done, just when I've finally relaxed and can go in slow motion the day is over. I'm sad about it. I find myself staying up way too late because I want to prolong my me time. It goes by too fast...it's like this weird paradox where I'm going slow and enjoying the moments that belong to me alone but also where time, the minutes, seem to go by in double time. Before I know it it's 11pm and I must go to bed soon, and I don't want to.



I'm sorta living two weeks ahead of time right now though. My mind is whisked away to Wyoming like it's just sitting there waiting for me to show up. Today I've been on Jackson Lake all day, it feels like my first time here even though I have lived here and done this more than a hundred times. My spirit is free again, I'm alive and am right at home. I'm out in the motorboat, just me, this day is all mine. The Tetons, the rolling clouds, the ice chest with frosty beverages to wet my whistle. I'm getting pink in the sun so I think I'll dive into the frigid lake, the water is so clear and I can see all the round and colorful rocks below me. I brought a book to read, an old favorite. I will be on this lake until the sun begins to set. It will be a day that seemed to last a brief eternity, and the best part is that it will only have been one day in my long, much needed, eleven day vacation.

normalcy resumes...

Oh good. Things are back to normal, I was concerned that we'd have some major clean up to do in the aftermath of earthquake Daddy (they don't name earthquakes do they?) But we woke up this morning and the hours began to pass like nothing had ever happened. We had a great day.

We went to McDonald's for lunch, I was of the mind that out-of-the-ordinary spoilage couldn't hurt, and might be needed. This was after I finally located the only, in my estimation, real skate shop in this city. We changed out Jackson's deck and put on the sweet Ninja bearings that Jeremy sent for him. Jackson's been riding the same board for over a year, he's still riding mini's but it was time to size up. I had a deck that I had been saving for him so Scott at the skate shop charged me all of nothing to switch it all out...sweet! Then I found out that he does lessons every Saturday and has a skate camp coming up. This is exactly what Jackson needs now, he's been going for it with very little guidance now that we live here and I think that I will probably never be able to get him to drop in a bowl, but Scott assured me that he could get him to do it in one day. Super duper.

While we were having lunch I was sitting across from the boys in a booth. I realized that both of them were not taking their eyes off of me. It was like hand to the food and mouth but their eyes did not move one inch from my face. Then the weird little giggling started. It got to the point where I thought I was dining with Beavis and Butthead, yet even still they did not stop looking at my face. It was the weirdest thing. I asked them why they kept staring at me and got no reply other that "uh huh huh uh huh huh." It was like they were in a trance. It was so funny too, it was like I was the video camera in a movie where two kids just discovered their reflection in a two way mirror and I was on the other side of the glass. Then it dawned on me that I was still wearing my sunglasses. I just got them, they are big bug framed tortoise shell with mirrored lenses! So I was on the other side of the two way mirror! LOL, I wish you could have seen it, it was hysterical!

Later, after we'd been home for a while and Noah was napping, I found Jackson diligently decorating his room with pictures he'd torn out of a magazine...he's taking after me!

he insists on making mean faces, because he's cool like that. sigh

I finally stopped holding my breath...

Whew....

I'm going to lay it out straight for you, this past week and a half hasn't been easy, oh no, it's been hell. Like reliving the pure hell of my hellacious marriage...but in slow motion.

But it's over tonight! I kicked him out, he's gone...I don't know where but he's not here and that is fine with me.

I would like to apologize to any of you who read this blog who feel like my last weeks worth of posts have been inappropriate or TMI. Thanks for hanging in there. Being stuck in the bubble I was in, being able to write about it, even if just in brief, has really helped me to cope. I wish I would have known about blogging while I was married...um, then again maybe not.

I'm good in case you're worried or wondering, the boys miss him but they will survive. Tomorrow we're going to Mat Hoffman's skatepark, Jackson will tear it up (mostly in his imagination), Noah will chase bugs, and I will turn up my iPod and soak up some sun. My trip is now less than two weeks away...boy howdy, I can't think of anyone who could stand to get away more than me!

Timing, the "grand design" of everything in life is really remarkable. I am ever reminded of God's constant presence in my life and even in the midst of the heaviest struggles He has always been right beside me, protecting me, guiding me, loving me. Every little moment in life is all part of the grand design, He is working everything out for our good. That is incredible. I leave you tonight with a little diddy that has resounded in my mind for years, it's a great reminder.

"For by and by the mist shall lift, and plain it all He'll make. Through all the way, tho' dark to me, He made not one mistake."

Eureka!

I finally figured out what I want to be when I grow up! Can you believe it? It's like everything that has been going on this year has been leading up to this explosive "ah ha!" Wow wow holy cow, it's all so clear to me now!

When I was a tweener I started making collages with torn out magazine pictures. I arranged them on my bedroom walls with scotch tape and some thumb tacks. Then Marisa and I advanced to collaging onto poster board. I have these fabulous collages, about maybe 8 in all. They are all about fashion, because back in those days I was a model and fashion was my dream. It's really neat to look at them now and see fashion from the early 90's. To see Nikki Taylor as a 17 year old in rolled cut-offs and Doc Martens. My "art work" was the thing I was most proud of, the thing that gave me the most self esteem and satisfaction. From there I used photos or dried flowers, what have you, I love them. I made a collage and lacquered it onto plywood for my boyfriend for our one year anniversary, I spent hours and days on it, I haven't ever been able to throw it out because it's like a little time capsule of my wonder years...being 17. It's way heavy. I also created and designed my high schools newspaper, I never loved anything more, and I remember talking to my teacher and trying to describe to her what I wanted to as a career. We didn't know the technical words for it, but as I explained my dream of "arranging the pages of a magazine", we decided that that might be called a "magazine layout editor."

Fast forward several years and many more artistic interests, I find myself in the computer age and wanting desperately to know how to be efficiently artistic with my blog and such. And just recently I've found myself working for a newspaper as an advertising executive. Yesterday I got my first great sale which was to a cutesy salon, it's going to be full color/half page. The girls who run the place said that they are "hair stylists not ad stylists", so I started thinking quickly about how to make a fa-bo ad that would make for a positive investment for my client. I had to use the potty while I was at the salon, therein I found inspiration. A so cute picture was hanging on the wall so I took it down and carried it to the front and told the girls "this is what we should use, I can make it happen, and you'll love it!" They said fine.

I went back to the office and drew up my very intricate and highly specific ideas onto a legal pad. I was so excited, I took this effort to the graphic designer and giddily rambled on and on about my brilliant plan. She listened, amazingly much less enthusiastic about this than me. She said something along the lines of "you don't need to do this. This part is my job." I walked away from her feeling dejected. Then, in like the next second, it was like KABAMM "I am supposed to go to school and study graphic design!" I should be doing this ad, I should...me...my creative juices should not be dammed at the door of another creative sort!

I haven't ever known if there was one thing that I could ever do for a living that I would actually love to do. But I know now! So I'm going to get the ball rolling. I'm going to go get myself some technical training, I'm going to go to school!! I am going to be a darn good graphic designer! I know I can do it, I just need the nitty gritty know how. I could actually get paid to be creative!! Hot dog, it's on!

Jackson loves to draw aliens and skate boards.

fast friends...

He's not gone yet. This is what has been happening on my front porch for days now. Randy (homeless?) and Mike congregate with other stray cats to drink a beer called "Lost Lake."

"Hey, you want one? It's six point from the liquor sto!"

they smile like I don't know

Mike's parents came to town today to throw money at the problem. He should be out by Saturday. Thank you former in-laws, this is the nicest thing you've ever done for me.

less is more?

I haven't spent one, no not one, quality moment with either of my sons in a week. It's not for a lack of trying, or because I don't want to. It's just that their god is here, his name is "pop-in-and-out-of-our-lives Daddy." He is all consuming. He has, supposedly, decided to move here...in my house...without my consent. He is moving into a weekly rate motel tomorrow because I can't stand this one more minute.

Something that I have really been knocked over the head with, in a good way, is a realization that I do indeed have a great little life, just me...single and free...with my sons. It's been that way for 3 years. Yes it's hard, but in certain respects it's soooo much easier. I realize that perhaps I have complained too much, even if only to myself, about having all of the weight of life on my shoulders alone. Yes, I'm desperate for a break once in a while, and would sell my soul for some guilt-free help from time to time. This experience over the last week has been a real eye opener in many many ways. Remember what you've learned about me so far? I'm optimistic to a fault about most everything, and I give 200th chances, and I always assume the best, and so that's maybe, maybe, why I can say that "this" experience has been of benefit.

All I want is my house back and my kids back saying Mom like it's a nervous tick...and child support.



Way to go deep Piper! Way to give out TMI without remorse! You go girl! You're getting better all the time!

stranger danger

At dinner tonight I was asking the boys about their day, as I always do. Mostly it's like pulling teeth. I have a heads up now because I have the summer calendar for daycare and know exactly what activities they are doing each day...so I can prod specifically. This is "Safety Week" and both of the boys are learning about various aspects of safety in language that they can understand, and with guest speakers like police officers.

I asked Noah about strangers.

"Noah, what do you do if some one you don't know gives you candy?"

Blank stare.

"Noah, did you learn about strangers today?"

"YES!"

"Good! So, what are you supposed to say to a stranger who tries to give you candy?"

"Trick or treat!"

fishy

I don't exactly have anything interesting to report this evening. That is such a lie!! But I just can't do it. OH HOW I WANT TO! I want to dish it out like a soup kitchen. I just can't. Biting my tongue hurts my pretty little soul. I'm putting in to practice that novel idea of "if you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all." I'm soooo mature now that I'm 31 in case you didn't notice. So I am only going to say this once...

House guests are a lot like fish, after three days they stink.

he looks just like me

sissy numb nut bastards!

Okay, The Soprano's is over forever now. I just finished watching the finale. I'm so disappointed. I thought Carmela was going to get wacked, then Tony would turn inside out insane and take revenge on everyone including is whiny baby boy. Yeah, I know that's a little morbid, but I thought that The Soprano's would go out with a radiating BANG that would leave all of us startled and unsettled. I guess it did that in a way. How tame and how warm and fuzzy though. Bummer, less isn't always more. I did enjoy the gross out way that Leotardo went though...that was brutal, he deserved it!

Your thoughts?

long, hot, and funkdified...

My car is affectionately named "white lightning" as it is the quicker and svelter predecessor to "blue thunder", my ancient sky blue minivan that I had in Wyoming. My friends named it that because it didn't have a tail pipe and was really loud. I later found out that there was a big crack in some hose or something that caused the exhaust to pour into the vehicle rather than out of it. The temperature is usually around -20 in the winter in Wyoming, we had to drive with the windows down so we wouldn't get asphyxiated. That was a long, cold winter. Then I was blessed to come upon a guy in town who was selling his nanny car, it was in great condition and even had studded snow tires with the 4-wheel drive. I bought it! Even though it's old it felt like a brand new car, it has power windows and a rockin' sound system. I love. . .loved. . . my car. Up there, at that altitude, the heat isn't much, especially compared to the OK heat. I never even thought to find out if the A/C worked. Then I moved back to OKC, and summer has arrived, and now I am painfully aware that my car not only doesn't have A/C that works, it's missing the whole contraption, so to get an A/C in my car would cost just about as much as what I paid for my '93 Pathfinder.

But that's not the half of it.

Last week I went to the grocery store and stocked up. I bought two gallons of milk, and like 15 more bags of stuff. One of Jackson's chores is to help me unload the car when we get groceries. Some how, in the mix of things, and I guess because my fridge was so full, I didn't notice that I only had one of the gallons of milk. Three days passed, three 90 degree days. One morning we get in the car and my boys start gagging and saying it stinks like cat poop. I didn't smell it at first but moments later I did. I open the back of my car and look under a blanket and see a gallon of milk sitting sideways in the Wal-Mart bag. I pull it out and realize that it's no longer milk, it's an almost solid glob of curdled nastiness! The smell is worse than anything you are imagining. It must have leaked, nothing was wet though. But the aroma oozed out and fused itself permanently to every inch of the interior of my car. It's wretched! It's so hard core that gag reflex is initiated before you even open the door. I've poured an inch thick layer of baking soda in the back of my car and placed opened boxes of it in select locations throughout.

We have to drive with the windows down with the smell and the heat. This means we can't have conversations because we can't hear each other yell with the 50 mile an hour wind in our ears. Even with the breeze it's still HOT, and the stink...forgettaboutit!!

Any suggestions for removing rotten funk odor from your car??

It's like that episode of Seinfeld where Jerry's car smelled like B.O., but it's worse. This is going to be a very long, very hot, and very abhorrent summer on the road. I'm glad I'm flying away from the pungentness in a few weeks...and not driving.

here's to new experiences...

Always find the humor in every situation. That's key in maintaining a healthy level of insanity...let the good time's role!

Pen-pal got me in to the secret society of "market researchers." I did it for the first time today, and believe me when I tell you, I will do it over and over and over and every single time I get a call on the bat phone I will be there.

Here's the deal...

There is a house in OKC that is the abode of two terribly sweet and enjoyably batty old birds...I'd say mid to late 70's. Opal & Marge. When you get into the secret society of market researchers these ladies are your taskmasters. Periodically, and randomly, you will be called to duty. I was called to test mouthwashes today.

I arrived at the house with the understanding that I would taste and report on 2 mouthwashes, and then for my opinion I would be paid $40. However, the fringe benefits were such that I would probably do it again for free...the experience, for a gal like me, was one of those "yessssss!!" moments. I could hardly believe my luck. Hence, I must report.

The house was large and I'm sure expensive given the exculsive neighborhood. Architecturally it was french country but several inside details lent themselves more to the craftsman style homes of the 1920's. Good Good Good. Then...it only gets better...the decor was a confusing mixture of items from all decades and every hot trend that has ever graced the pages of the Ladies Home Journal, and also maybe if there was ever a magazine devoted to gay designers who like to maybe showcase their couture hot & bothered collections. Can you picture this? Let me break it down.

I'm going to ramble all of this off, in no particular order, because that's essentially how it was. Downtrodden orange shag carpet next to immaculate marble tiles next to cheesy parquet squares...this was all in the dining room I was sitting in. The walls were once covered in grass textured wallpaper, but it had long ago been painted white, a grayish white. The crown moldings were elaborate, but painted in a kind of organicy, mustardy, albeit stained yet lovely green. The trim around the doors and the chair rail was painted in a very dark hunter green. The artwork on the walls? Brace yourself for the goods...the prominent piece was a tacky and very large, very abstract, (eh hem) penis (it had to be that, my mind isn't that dirty), framed in that heavy black lacquer stuff that was popular in the 80's. The color scheme was black, white, mint green, and peach. It had a hanging plant next to it and the vine of the plant was about 50 feet long and wrapped and thumb tacked carefully around the frame of the picture. On the next wall was a very cheap hotel room-esque painting of the old standard "mountain with trees and old mill." We sat at a folding table in the center of this room that was covered in a plastic table cloth with years old Readers Digests as a center piece. I strained my neck to see other rooms, but Opal was bent on keeping my head in the game. The house was amazingly clean and smelled exactly like "sweet old lady."

I was there for 45 minutes. Opal said "sit." She had a line up of egg timers. On her "go" I took a shot of the first mouthwash, swished steadily for 1 minute, and thanks to the timers, not one second longer. Then spit. Then answered 7 questions. Then waited 15 minutes, and answered 20 questions. Then Opal made me eat a cracker and sip, only sip, water...to cleanse my pallet. Then wait 20 minutes and repeat all the steps with the second mouthwash. Then she handed me $40 cash. The first one tasted like a sweet tart but acted like peroxide in my mouth. It sucked. The second one was exactly like taking a shot of Rumpleminz and holding it in your mouth for 1 minute and swishing. It was painful, my eyes were watering. I wasn't told the names of these products, I hope I never accidentally buy them.

Penny has been doing this for a long time. She has tested everything from breath mints to dental floss to grape juice. The pay is different each time. I hugged Opal and thanked Marge, and told them I would love to do it again...anytime. Next time though I will sneak in my camera because you need to see this place!

there's a stranger in my house...

"Wookie" the cat, he came with the ex husband who is in transit. I'm horribly allergic........to cats.

This is what the cat does all day, aside from sending me into anaphylactic shock. It's rough.

My boys are thrilled beyond words that their Dad is here. I'm letting him stay for a few days, because I'm too nice. Being the good southern woman that I am, and I am thank you, I let him have the most comfortable bed in the house.

tee hee...LOL!

He called me "rude" for taking this picture in the middle of the night. But, in my estimation, when one comes to "stay" in another's home, and especially when the home contains a feisty blogger, one must be willing to appease some tomfoolery. These are the rules. Noah doesn't mind sleeping in the same room with Darth Vader (notice the breathing machine). I was relieved of this obligation several years ago...oh thank heavens.

I saw a movie today, Knocked Up, I loved it. I realized while watching a semi-steamy sex, not love, scene, that I still consider myself a twin sized bed gal, and that having a queen sized bed all to myself seems quite lavish. I feel pampered by these kinds of things. The girl in the movie has a bigger than twin sized bed too. Probably most people do...isn't it funny the secret things that we think about.

After I got home from the movie and checked my answering machine I had to call back the editor of the newspaper with whom I interviewed with the day before. He said he wanted to hire me!! I wish you could see how big I am smiling! To say that I am stoked would be an understatement. You are reading the writings of an advertising executive now. Ooh La La. I'm pretty much going to be selling ads, and designing some too. But, hey, it's finally my entrance into the print media world, and that is something I have yearned for. I'm out of the insurance world now...I'm a little nervous, this will be new ground for me, but I know I can do it and I can't wait.

Other good news is that my big vacation is coming up in a few weeks...HOLLA!! HOT DIGITY DOG! I will be going to Jackson, WY, then to Hailey & Ketchum & Sun Valley, ID, and stopping at all the skate parks in between. I'll be hanging out with Jeremy and we will be camping pretty much the whole time in the mountains with his buddies from SLC. Fourth of July is a HUGE skate week, it's an anual event that I attended last year too. These guys are pros, and even though all I will be doing is hanging out, taking pictures, and drinking beer, there is absolutely nothing else I would rather do. I CAN'T WAIT...have I mentioned that? I'm sure we will make time to kayak and do some hiking too.

skatepark in Hailey

Things are looking up!

Jackson's dating...

Jackson, my 7 year old, had some splainin' to do. When I picked him up from daycare today another boy in his class trotted to me and told me that a girl in their class kisses Jackson all the time. Jackson turned pink and said "nuh huh!" "Yes she does!" "Okay, she does. She kisses me all the time and she won't stop even when I push her."

I let things cool down. To me this is no big deal and very fun. I remember being a kisser of cute boys when I was his age. He doesn't believe me when I tell him that he will like it someday.

So, after Noah was in bed and Jackson was done with Spongebob, I asked him to tell me about his day.

"How was laser tag? Was it fun?"

"Yeah, it was cool. You, like, run through a maze and shoot your laser gun, and guess what, I was #1!"

"Oh yeah! That sounds awesome!"

"My friend was #3, and that girl who always kisses me...ON THE LIPS...kept kissing me, she was #5, and Mom, it was dark in there."

"Do you not like that little girl?"

"NO!"

"Why?"

"Because she kisses me. Cute girls should kiss boys though, I think that's the way kisses are."

"She's not cute? What do cute girls look like?"

"Well, cute girls have long hair, and she doesn't have long hair. And cute girls have blonde hair and have braids"

"Oh. What kinds of clothes do cute girls wear?"

"Cute girls wear flowers everywhere, and they are sparkly, and you know, like that girl at my school, that's what cute girls look like. And cute girls are in third grade or fifth grade."

I love conversations with my kids. Very insightful. Jackson is into older, sparkly girls. Noah converses through actions more than words. He isn't ready for bed until he's had chocolate milk and had ample time to transfer water from one container to another, repeatedly, in the bathroom sink. Tonight Jackson's ball cap was one of those containers. I think what Noah was trying to say by this action was "I'm gaining on you brother!"

I need a miracle...

I wanted to go to a Dead show today, a little breaky from reality, blissing out, carefree. I was thinking about my old friends, so many of them hippies, many many in the Rainbow Family, and then others are just travelers. What got me to thinking about this today? I was browsing the guide on my TV and noticed that on QVC they had an hour block to sell Birkenstock's. WOW. How does a company who's primary demographic being the bohemian sorts justify such a sell out to a machine that turns on the gray haired masses? No, I didn't watch it, I can say in all honesty that I have never watched that channel, I have no interest. I was mildly tempted to see the pageantry. Will they be selling fake dread extensions next week? Perhaps I could look into marketing bird feathers and sticks and shells to fancify the weaves? I mean, if your going to go there, why not attempt some realism. I wonder if I could sell stink in a bottle as well? Or a little plastic tub of earth for grunging out your finger nails. QVC'ers could carry it in there Dooney & Bourke bags.


This post is dedicated to my one lost Jesus sandal; while floating the Snake in a tire tube last summer it slipped off my foot and rode the rapids into oblivion. Why I chose to wear a pair of my Birk's into a river I don't know...especially when I had some perfectly good Chaco's sitting at home. Thankfully I still had my clogs to get me through the winter. Good bye old friend. Oh, and to Georgia John and Big John...every time I see a train I wonder if you are riding it.

if I hadn't seen it with my own two eyes...

Movie night = Two boys stay up late, watch a movie, and sleep in the same room. Usually this is done for the sole purpose of hopefully eliminating a 6:00 am wake up the next morning.

I can't help but check on the boys before I go to sleep. It's always a heart warming reminder that I adore these little rug rats. Movie night happens in Noah's room because Jackson's TV is only for game cube. Jackson sleeps in a pallet on the floor.

I opened the door and, if I hadn't seen it with my own two eyes, I never would have believed what I saw! The photos say it all...well not "all" because about two hours ago Noah wondered out of his room to ask me if he could ask me a question. He wanted to know what I was doing. I sent him back to bed. Now seeing these pictures I can only assume that some time after Noah fell asleep, Jackson found his way to the bed and ended up sleeping on top of him. This could have only happened after Jackson was asleep though, because lately Noah is the last person Jackson wants to hang with. I'm dumbfounded. Sure makes for great pictures though! I think I am going to be taking pictures of these boys every night before I go to bed now...especially the last few nights, they have been rich with photo ops. I carried Jackson back to his bed so Noah could breathe free of Jackson's exhaust.

God, thank you for precious moments like these, when in a brief flash you remind me that all is right in my world, and I remember that if I will just take a second to look around me I will see that there is only love and peace because of your presence and inspite of myself.

I can do this in my sleep...

While napping while Noah was napping I dreamed that I was blogging about the dream that I was having. The dream was a mixture of last nights dream with new spices mixed in. It was a pretty bizzare feeling, or awareness, or subconscious reality. I have extraordinarily vivid dreams, since I can't see your dreams, I can't say that mine our any more lively than yours, but believe me when I say that my dreams are crystal clear...the meaning of my dreams are not as clear. For help in finding translation I use a dream dictionary, and this website http://www.dreammoods.com/. The way to do it is to look for keywords from the dream, then when you look up those words, like "table", "hair", "kidnapping." you find out that most all of your dreams are about you. Everything in our dreams, no matter who is also present with you or who you are thinking about, has to do with you. So trying to descipfer your mental picture only really means that you are trying to get in tune with yourself and what's going on in your mind that you may or may not be conscious of. This is particularly helpful when you have a really intense dream, or a scary dream. I've dreamed more than a few times that I, or one of my sons, was being kidnapped. These kinds of dreams bring chills and terror and being able to realize what they are really about brings all kinds of clarity and a sense of peace sometimes.

I still don't really know what the deal with dreams is. Why do we dream? Why some people don't remember their dreams, why some people, like me, have such intense dreams that they stay with me almost begging me to solve the puzzle. I've had dreams like this all my life. I still remember dreams from my childhood. I know that there are people who's dreams are kind of premonitions, or prophetic, this is even noted in the Bible. None of my dreams, I don't think, have ever been prophetic. However, there's been many times when I've woken up with a hurried sense of needing to pray, and in those instances I do think that the Lord was speaking to me while I was sleeping and prompting me to intercede on some one's behalf. Maybe the only time God can catch my scatter-brained minds attention sometimes is to do it when I'm sleeping.


Jackson has dreams like I do. I'm really glad that I'm aware of this, so I can help him or at least let him talk about it. When I was a kid and having distinct dreams I had no one to talk to about it, my Mom never dreams (so she says) and when I would wake up in the morning and not be able to help but talking about what I was just thinking about, she would brush me off, and that hurt my feelings. I'm glad I will be able to understand Jackson in this way. When you dream like I dream you do not have a choice as to whether or not you can think about them the next day and need to talk about it. The acutely consuming nature of being a "dreamer" insists that you seek out clarity. I don't think I'll ever understand why dreams are so big in my life, I mean honestly, they really aren't a big deal...the definitions of them anyway.


Here's some pictures of Jackson while he's sleeping, and dreaming. These are the kinds of pictures he will hate me for someday, and I will use as blackmail someday...tee hee.

bubble boy...

Noah loves baths, bubbles are fun, but they stick and "bub me momeeee, bub me!"