Saturday Showdown

So this morning, my husband informed me that my puppet wrinkles are not, in fact, wrinkles, but rather sagging skin (aka jowls. JOWLS!). Instead of a quick restylane injection, what I really will need is a face lift. Would somebody please remind me to poison his food?

I don't know if it was residual anger from the jowl diagnosis, or what, but I managed to get in a bit of a scuffle with a lovely couple at the gym today. I should preface the story with some background info...

I am a former showdown queen. I have made store managers cry, several random people threaten me with physical violence, and a water filtration salesman run from my house in fear of his life. It used to be that I would let my emotions rule my actions, causing the gloves to come off rather quickly, and the fur to fly. However, I have mellowed in my old, saggy-jowled age, and tend to let most things slide. But not today. Oh, no.... Not today.

I guess the details don't really matter.  A guy took my spot in class and I politely pointed it out to him. Instead of moving, he ignored me. I will admit that I then began talking loudly to my husband about how this guy took my saved spot. His wife turned around and spoke to me, irritating me with her stupid comments. Sorry, but if you engage me, be prepared, right? RIGHT?! (please, somebody say "right!")

So things kind of escalated from there. I made a couple of slightly sarcastic remarks to the wife. Then the perpetrator/husband started in on me. My hubs did the whole, "If you get into with my wife, you get into it with me!" He may have even pushed up his sleeves. The husband/perpetrator actually ended up running off in a huff, leaving his wife alone in the class. She then proceeded to try to bait me throughout the class, and I basically ignored her. Apparently, it had taken her over a month to convince him to come to the gym with her, and I had sent him packing, never to return. Really?! Seems to me, he has bigger issues, if his status at the gym was so fragile.

I felt completely justified in my behavior at the time, but am starting to feel guilty. I am wondering why I keep thinking the right thing to have done was to not say anything and not stand up for myself. That doesn't seem fair. 

Anyway, happy Saturday. 

There's a New Lesbian in Town

That's right... Move over, Jay. You may very well have been replaced.

So yesterday, I felt the need to complain about my rapidly and disturbingly deteriorating physical appearance (hello? puppet wrinkles!). And, like the amazing, truly incredible women that you all are, you quickly came running, ready to commiserate with me. But then I got the most ridiculous comment from our resident 1/2 woman lesbian. If I didn't know better, I would have thought a man wrote it. I couldn't believe my eyes. It went something like this:

"You are a beautiful and smart lady blah blah blah..." I stopped reading before I became physically ill. What??? Any woman worth her wrinkles and $250 heels knows not to try to convince a woman she's beautiful!!! A real gal pal needs to jump on board and wallow in the self-pity! So disappointing.

Which brings me to CaJoh... Unlike Jay, he instinctively knew what to say (paraphrasing here):

"That's right, girlfriend. You should see my white hair... It makes me look older than dirt!" And this was after he posted one of his quick and easy recipes on his blog!

This has me thinking... Should we make them duke (claw?) it out, or is there room in this town for the two of them?

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall...Go Find Someone Else to Torture.

Getting old stinks. I remember being in my 20's and 30's and actually looking forward to hitting 40. Somehow, I thought this would miraculously mature me and make people respect me more. I thought there would be all sorts of exciting, automatic changes, validating me as a person. I am approaching an entire year of being 40 and, honestly, there have been some changes. Unfortunately, they have all been physical. Yuck. 

I know the grey hair is all my own doing. Perhaps now was not the best time to launch Root Watch '09. However, I will say, even though I look 75 years old, my hair is actually thicker and healthier than ever. I think the constant bleaching/dying/bleaching/dying/flat ironing/bleaching/curling had taken its toll and I had a lot of breakage and damage. So that's the good news. 

The bad news is on my face. MY FACE! Don't get me wrong... I've been expecting the wrinkles. In fact, I had it all planned out in my mind. Since I laugh and smile all the time, I just knew I would have those cute smile lines around my eyes, indicating to all, a lifetime of happiness and joy (even though parts of it really sucked). 

Well, the other day, I noticed that I am developing these deep, awful frown lines on each side of my mouth. Like a ventriloquist's dummy. I don't even know how to frown!! It's physically impossible for me! Yes, I get mad and sad, but when I do, it's all in my eyebrows. What is going on??? So now, not only do I look old, I look mean. With a head full of grey hair. I look like a mean, old marionette!!  I might as well start wearing tank tops everyday and wave my cafeteria lady arms at people. Maybe I'll even start calling everyone "Sonny." Just for fun.

Oh, and to top it all off, I still get no respect from anyone and I think potty jokes are funny. What is wrong with me?

Ugh... At least I have very youthful looking ankles and I'm continent. For now.

Tuesday's Tribute: Say "Cheeeeeeese!"

I try not to overdo it too often about my cooking expertise, because it's not my job to make you feel inadequate and bad about yourselves. However, I must take this Tuesday to rave about one of my favorite foods... Sliced cheese. Or I guess, to be more precise, processed American cheese food (See? It is a food. It says so on the wrapper).

Again, I hate to rub it in, but I make an amazing grilled cheese (food?) sandwich. And if I'm feeling extra nice, I may offer a side of canned tomato soup to my growing boys (I love spoiling them). They adore my grilled cheese (food?) sandwiches, and whenever my husband offers to make them, they shout out, "NO! You don't know how... Mom makes them better!" What can I say?

I feel hesitant sharing this next part with you, but since we are on the subject... Sometimes, when I have the whole afternoon to plan and prepare, I will make them my signature international dish, grilled cheese (food?) quesadillas! Don't hate me because I'm the kind of mom that always thinks ahead and has fancy food like tortillas on hand.

Come join the fun... It can only get better from here! Link up and share your tribute.

Yet Another Jay and Deb Production.

The Morning After...

Holy Mackerel. 

I don't drink. But I did last night. And this morning, I am remembering why I shouldn't.  The pounding head, the upset stomach, the bloated hands and puffy face. Blech.

You'd think I went on some crazy binge at a seedy honky-tonk (good lord, I never thought I'd actually use that word), but in reality, hubs and I found ourselves alone for the evening and decided we'd have a nice, quiet dinner at the little Mexican restaurant around the corner. Two peach margaritas later, and I'd whipped out my phone and was trying to grab shots of the other customers that I found hilariously amusing (but were really just normal people eating). My husband pointed out that my flash kept going off, and that was a pretty tell-tale sign I was being obnoxious and perhaps violating some sort of privacy law (and I can't afford to break any more laws).

Speaking of breaking laws, I took Moody Teen to get his learner's permit yesterday, and was pleased to note that there were no Wanted posters with my picture on them hanging in the DMV. I did kind of inquire in a very vague and theoretical manner about what was required of someone who had let their license expire for over 6 months. If I heard correctly, not only am I going to have to take the written test, I think I may have to take the driving test, too! 

Oh man, somebody please pass the tequila.

Six Word Saturday: Buckle Up!

Putting   life   in   hands   of   teen.

For other amusing, unsettling or uplifting six word updates, go visit Cate at Show My Face!

Happy Saturday, my peeps! 

I Fought the Law and the Law Won

Oh man, I've really done it this time. My negligence and defiance of basic state law, coupled with sheer stupidity and complete loss of all common sense has landed me in quite a pickle. It's only a matter of time before Federal Agents appear at my door to escort me to The Pen, never to see my family again (I guess there really is a bright side to every story).

It is the perfect storm... a convergence of individual events causing one really spectacular mess (and maybe a casualty or two, before this is all over). Here we go...

So you all know my driver's license has been expired. Since May (I know, I know). Well, I went to the post office to apply for a passport, and the guy points out to me (duh) that my license has expired. Let's call this Red Flag #1 (RF#1). I asked if he thought it would be a problem and he assured me that it would not be, as he has processed many applications with expired licenses. Although hesitant, my laziness and hatred of the DMV won, and I proceeded. I then handed over my birth certificate, which would have to be mailed in with my application. Since I was going to be without my birth certificate for a couple of weeks, I asked again if he thought it would be fine. This time, his story was more ambiguous. "Ma'am, all I do is write down the information you give me... It is up to them," (Hello? RF#2). Either feeling extremely optimistic or perhaps having lapsed into complete denial, I happily paid my $135 for expedited service and left.

Well, well, well... Later that day, my husband and I took the kids to turn in their applications. Both parents have to be present and both have to sign something saying we won't kidnap our own children (no thank you), or something like that. So the guy (different guy) asks for my ID and I innocently hand over my license. He takes a look at it, starts to laugh this crazy, mean, very upsetting laugh, and tells me he can't accept my license, since it has expired (RF#3). So of course, I launch into this whole big thing, thinking surely I can convince him otherwise, and ultimately get my way. He doesn't budge. In fact, at this point, he is kind of acting like I am trying to pull a fast one (which I guess I am), and am some sort of criminal (which I guess I am). 

Suddenly, the consequences of my actions and inactions are crystallizing in my head. My boys can't get their passports until I either get my passport or get my driver's license renewed. I can't go get my driver's license renewed because I need to have my original birth certificate, and that, my friends, IS ON ITS WAY TO THE STATE DEPARTMENT.  So the more desperate I become, the angrier I get at the guy, which is my typical M.O. (not very mature, I admit). I grab all the paperwork, give the guy a dirty look, leave him with some completely ridiculous words of advice to ponder, and march out (my family had long since headed to the car).

So now it is a month until our vacation for which we will need our passports. And instead of learning an important lesson and perhaps calling the Passport Agency to explain my situation and beg for mercy and assistance, I am busy scheming how to circumvent the system. Will I ever learn? I am just worried that if I call attention to the fact that I have submitted my application with an expired license, they will reject it and I will have to start all over again. If I keep my mouth shut, maybe they won't notice or won't care, I can get my passport, then quickly get the boys'.

My husband keeps trying to point out that my anger is totally misplaced, and perhaps I should be shouldering some of the responsibility for the "situation". He also is promising to send lots of postcards to us from the vacation he will be taking alone. Remind me to never speak to him again.

So I am still driving around with my stupid expired license and a brake light out. It is only a matter of time, people. Only a matter of time. I guess the good news is if I do end up in jail, perhaps I can get to the bottom of this Casey Anthony mess.

Alternative to Basket Weaving

Since I very nearly went postal at the actual post office yesterday, today I am focusing on something a little less mentally taxing. I am tackling the ever-so-important task of cleaning out my nail polish command center. 

Priorities, people. 

And although these:

and these:

and these:

All appear to the naked eye to be the same colors, I assure you they most certainly are not. Which do you think would look best with an orange jumpsuit? Don't forget to consider how it would look in both jail cell light (Amy, your input would be appreciated) and natural light (for my field trips to the side of the road to pick up trash).

Welcome to the Jungle

So here's what's going on at my house. We have the dogs eating the cat's food, then brazenly standing by their own empty dishes and barking. Don't hold your breath, my little pups.

Then we have the cat that is just kind of roaming and meowing incessantly because he's hungry. No kidding, Clifford... You should have eaten when you had the chance.

Which leads me to upstairs, where Eggroll, the lizard (Chinese Water Dragon to all you reptiphiles) has just returned to his cage, from where he had ESCAPED, and was perched precariously on the window sill of my son's room. At that point, Clifford was on high alert, ready to pounce. Fortunately, crisis averted, although it probably would have shut the cat up for a while.

And if any of you were under the misguided impression that your kids would grow out of their cartoon/trading card/anime obsessions, don't count on it. I am making Pokémon mac-n-cheese for Moody Teen (yes, he's almost 16 and will be authorized to drive a vehicle on Saturday), while he is re-watching the Pokémon marathon on TV that he watched yesterday. I am not sure how it happened, but Mew, Pikachu and Quilava (evolved form of Cyndaquil, duh) are back and even more popular than before. 

Sweet Mr. Beans has disappeared to the bathroom for the second time in 30 minutes. I am thinking either food poisoning or stomach flu. Lovely.

And me? Well, I am fit to be tied. Is that the expression? Don't worry, you'll get all the sordid details later. Or, you may just see me on the nightly news. I'll be the one having to be restrained from attacking a mom of multiples and a jolly British bloke.

Meanwhile, I am thumbing my nose at Tena and her weight loss gang, and am on my 6th or 7th cookie. Surely my self-esteem can handle another 5 lbs.

Tuesday's Tribute: My Time of the Month

Is it just wholly inappropriate to pay tribute to my period? I have to say, as much as I detest it for the bloating, mood swings and binge eating it causes, I also happen to love it for the bloating, mood swings and binge eating it causes. You see, I absolutely adore having an air-tight excuse for my bad behavior and complete lack of self-control. And when you include the Pre- and the Post- MS, I pretty much have the entire month covered. Sweet!

So, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to put on my son's sweatpants, take note of his filthy room while I am in there, so I can fly into a rage later, and then polish off the box of zebra cakes I started at breakfast.

Try to top that.

Yet Another Jay and Deb Production.

Very Odds and Ends

After commiserating with my bud, Tony, about how Valentine's Day is just a big scam, and receiving very odd Mother's Day wishes from my youngest, the FedEx truck came roaring up my driveway at 7:30 last night to bring me these:

I had an immediate change of heart. My Shoo Bear came through for me after all, and suddenly Valentine's Day seemed like a holiday worth celebrating.  I was impressed with his pre-planning, although I am sure if I checked his cell phone records, I would see an emergency call to FTD placed around noon yesterday. 

I woke up this morning to my dang dogs barking for food. They have some sort of weird hang up where they expect to be fed on a regular basis. Grrr... I was completely out of dog food, so I had to rummage around in the fridge to see what I could bear to part with. This is what their breakfast looked like (brats, rotisserie chicken, bananas and of course, pop tarts):

I received a full report from my ski bums yesterday. Moody Teen broke a binding trying to "land a 360", but after a quick trip to the repair shop, he was up and running again. He settled for "a 180", which apparently involves skiing off a ramp, flying through the air while turning 180 degrees, then landing backwards and then continuing to ski backwards until coming to (hopefully) an upright stop. All I can say about that is I am glad I wasn't there to witness it. And of course, today, he plans on chasing after that elusive 360. 

One of my favorite bloggalpals is Ms. Dana over at Life is Good. She likes to think of herself as jaded and cynical, but beneath the hilarious, sarcastic, eye-opening humor is a lovely heart of gold (she's going to kill me for outing her). She makes beautiful handmade cards and I was lucky enough to receive one. She only made me beg a little...

♥ Project Happy Hearts ♥

We have all been so saddened by the loss of Tuesday Whitt over the past few weeks. But there are a special few who have chosen to act... determined to turn loss into hope.  Kacey over at Chronicles of a Mommy has put her money where her mouth is, and has invited us all to do the same through her Project Happy Hearts. 

A couple of weeks ago, she featured two great (and EASY) ways to help sick kids...

Tabitha at A Five Oh 4 Uplifting is dedicated "to 'Spreading Smiles Worldwide' to all children and adults in need of uplifting." She makes and delivers goody bags to hospitals and shelters. If you email her at afiveoh4uplifting@gmail.com, she'll send you a list of items needed for the bags that can be purchased and shipped directly to her from OrientalTrading.com. 

Make a Child Smile is an organization that "provides information for people to write uplifting and spirited letters to children with chronic illnesses." What's easier than writing a letter? 

I chose to sit down with my kids and write some letters to the featured kids on the Make a Child Smile website. It is my hope that our simple, silly and sincere warm wishes will give these seriously ill children a reason to smile and offer a brief distraction from the brave battles they are fighting.

Now I am off to email Tabitha to get her wish list. What's more fun than a little online shopping on a cold and rainy Saturday night?

Happy Valentine's Day ... 

Happy Mother's Day!

First Post Friday!

My first post wasn't so very long ago. I wrote it last May, but didn't publish it until June or July. The impetus for my blog was to purge all of the crap clogging up my head. I didn't really plan for it to be seen by others, which I guess is weird, but I just didn't have a clue what (and who) would be waiting for me.

Oh, don't get me wrong... I love that people read my blog. I am happy that I can offer comfort or humor or empathy (and the occasional prize) to others.  I have also gained so much from all of you.  I do think I spend too much time complaining and worrying. And sometimes I feel compelled to write for my audience rather than what's on my mind. I would hate to alienate any of you (even more) with the actual garbage that pecks at my brain. Maybe it's that doormat in me, I don't know.

Anyway, here's my very first post. It's strange that I just jumped right in, seemingly in mid-thought, with no preface or intro. But then again, if no one was going to read it, why bother?

So it's time to link up and let us all have a look at your first post. If you really don't want to go there, link up something... an old favorite, one that didn't get too many comments, anything. I've got lots of time on my hands this weekend and I want to get to know you all better.

I Hope He Likes the View... From the Doghouse!

Root Watch 09 is intensifying around here. It's apparent to me that I will have to take some sort of action soon. My root situation is becoming what smart people might call untenable (thank you Merriam's Word of the Day).

So I asked my husband what he thought about me cutting my hair short. And, interestingly enough, this was his honest-to-God reply:

"Hmm... I don't know. I've never seen you with short hair."

"What?" I calmly asked. Oh, I had heard him perfectly well, but I wanted to see if he could possibly dig his hole any deeper.  And, of course, just as I knew he would, he repeated himself. Lord, I love setting a good trap.

And this, my friends, was how the rest of the drama unfolded...

Me: Excuse me?! You've never seen me with short hair? My hair was short when I met you, for crying out loud!

Idiot: uhhh...

Me: My hair was short ON THE DAY WE GOT MARRIED!!!

Idiot: oh.

Me: And, my hair was short when I came home in tears, maniacally insisting you photograph the yellow tiger stripes in my hair as evidence for the lawsuit I intended to file (aka Highlight Disaster of '98). IS THIS RINGING ANY BELLS?!?!

Idiot: ...

Being the nice (and underhanded) person that I am, and knowing perfectly well that I can pull this little gem out of my hat anytime, anyplace, for just about any purpose for the rest of his life, I let it go. After all, this is from the guy who, still to this day, talks about the blue dress I was wearing on that unforgettable night we met. One problem... It was green.

PS: Don't forget to play First Post Friday with me tomorrow. Mr. Linky will hopefully be available first thing in the a.m. Remember, even if you are posting something new, take a minute to drop by and link me to your first post. Oh, and if you want to cheat, as always, you have my blessing. 

Mark Your Calendars

I've got exciting news! The annoying and high-maintenance half of my family is going to be gone all weekend, so we are talking major free time for me.  Once Moody Teen and the Absent-minded Professor are out the door, sweet Mr. Beans will be easy to ditch.  I just have to agree to a sleepover, order Chinese take-out, make sure the basement is stocked with video games, mountain dew and brownies (and maybe some porn. JUST KIDDING), and I'll be flyin' solo for nearly 60 hours.  

What to do with myself? Normally, I would put on my PJs and read every celebrity gossip magazine known to mankind, while eating ice cream, watching indy flicks and painting my toenails. I will probably have time for all of that, and more! So I have hatched a plan...

I want to get to know all of you wünderbloggers (who's the umlaut queen now, Em?) a little better, and now is my chance. I will actually have time to read and contemplate all of your profound, funny, poignant and Nyquil-inspired posts, instead of flying through them while burning dinner and yelling at the kids.

Well, since we all just adore alliteration here in Blogland, I have masterminded a special one-time event for Friday... First Post Friday!! My plan is to have everyone re-post their very first post ever, so we can all get a glimpse of where we were, compared to where we are. Doesn't that sound fun (and easy)? I have been following so many of you for a while now, but never have had the time to start from the beginning. 

So Friday morning, I will have a Linky up (God willing!). It would be fun if everyone re-posted their first posts, with maybe a little narrative, but I know some of you have regularly scheduled Friday features. But maybe if you do already have a new post planned, you can stop by and link me straight to your very first post, without re-posting it.

Won't you play along for little ol' soon-to-be-bored-and-happy-about-it me?

Tuesday's Tribute: I Heart the DMV!

author's note: Below is my attempt to corral some good karma. This is Plan A. Plan B will involve me going on the lamb and assuming a new identity. Don't worry, I'll be in touch...

Don't you just love the DMV? It is so obvious that their HR department hand picks each employee based on his sunny disposition, knowledge of state law, and people skills. In fact, I have so much fun there, I don't mind the occasional long wait (which always seems to just fly by). I really love it when I am told, despite being previously told otherwise, that I will need my great-grandmother's cousin's original social security card, causing me countless hours of searching and a return trip (yay!). It's just icing on the cake when I do finally return with the document in question, only to be told I never needed it in the first place! Co-workers contradicting each other rocks, especially when I am short on time and have a moody kid (or two) with me. If you haven't had the privilege of visiting the DMV lately, you don't know what you're missing!

PS: Did I mention that I have been driving around on an expired license since May and Moody Teen is due to get his learner's permit in two weeks? I have a feeling I may be darkening their door soon.

---

Yet Another Jay and Deb Production.
To participate in Tuesday's Tribute, Fill out a Mr. Linky below with your name and URL address to your Tribute. Need a details, or a button? Go Here.

Inaugural Kiss Off

Now don't get me wrong... I don't need or want to lose any weight. I'm just jumping on board because I want to support my gal pal, Tena. I actually like being 20 lbs. overweight for a couple of reasons:

First, it keeps the boy toys from constantly hitting on me, making my husband feel more secure. Yes, I stay fat for my husband. Aren't I nice?

Second, when I am 20 lbs overweight, I can only fit into one pair of jeans and one or two tops. This cuts down on the decision making process when getting dressed. Being overweight is a time saver!

But, despite my excellent reasons for keeping my extra insulation, I am going to get fit, shed the weight and look fab by the end of May. 

I didn't step foot in the gym all weekend, nor did I hit the treadmill gathering dust in my basement. I ate pretty much everything in sight. However, today, I have done well. A cheese sandwich on lo-cal bread, yogurt and my good ol' diet standby, Cheerios with 2 packets of Splenda. Yum.

My plan for this week is to lay off the sweets, stick to my exercising, and drink lots of water. I know my mood will sour, my head will start to hurt and no one will want to be around me. I am due to get my period in a week, so by Wednesday, I should be full on PMS-ing. I know, I know... I can't wait, either.

Until next week, my dears, when I should be less bloated and on the road to being nice again. Maybe. 

And Tena, thanks for motivating me. If this actually works, I will come over to your house and kiss those uncrusty, beautiful (and skinny) feet of yours.

Honoring Tuesday: Wagie Ride Down Memory Lane

I knew a wagie ride with my uncooperative crew would be difficult, to say the least. But there was no way I wasn't going to participate in honoring Tuesday and her family. So I sat down with my box of old photos to search for anything with a wagon in it. Before long, my little Mr. Beans climbed up on the bed with me and started thumbing through our boxful of memories. To be all of 12, he didn't recognize too much of what we were looking at. So I began to tell him the stories behind the pictures. The memories that I hold so dear. It was a rare moment of that elusive 'quality time' that we all need to recharge our hearts and feed our souls. 

Anyway, a simple but heartfelt prayer is in my heart for Tuesday and her family, and I thank them for showing us what pure, unfiltered love looks like. 

Six Word Saturday: Join the Parade

Celebrate   life  in  honor  of   Tuesday.

Friday's High Five aka The Linkiest Post EVER!

I got a lovely invitation from Ms. Angela at Angela's Adventures to participate in her High Five Friday. The rules appear very simple and she seems like a forgiving soul, so let's give it a shot...

Top Five Gold Star Bloggers

1 and 2: Em and Lee... These gals knock my socks off. They are living their lives with their eyes and hearts wide open. They are leading by example and keep me in a state of perpetual awe. They choose to make a difference in this world in the most creative, smart, funny and humble ways. They are organizing a beautiful virtual parade to celebrate the short, but wondrous, life of little 

Tuesday Whitt.

3. Kacey... She originally caught my eye with her sense of style and creativity. And, as I suspected all along, she has a really big heart. She has created Project Happy Hearts, which gives us some easy yet profound ways to help others in need. We get to celebrate with her on Valentine's Day.

4. Nannette... The kindest and wisest soul. Ever. A gifted photographer whose empathy and desire to help make our world better is evident in all she does. She's donating 50% of all her sales from her Etsy shop to an amazing young woman fighting challenges that would defeat most of us.

5. Jay... Mr. Halftime Lessons, himself. You know him, you love him, and now you get to see him bald!  Talk about putting his money where his mouth is... More on him and his amazing act of charity and stupidity (just kidding on that last one) to come.

And finally, for those of you who are interested in what I am wearing (or too polite to admit that you're NOT)... I am wearing a smile. And I would like to thank #'s 1-5 for helping me with that after a long, sad couple of weeks. Be sure to visit Tiaras and Tantrums to check out the real style mavens.

College, Eh?

I am a dreamer, big time. Or at least I used to be. You wouldn't think so, considering I am such a moody, cynical, unsympathetic bitch to my friends and family. But deep down in me, there are remnants of the girl that desperately wanted to study fashion in London, or live by the beach for a year and learn to paint. The reality is I ended up at a Southern Baptist college in Texas, studying Education, leaving my dreams behind. I don't know if I was "steered" in that direction by my parents or if I just chickened out and didn't have the guts to go for it. I guess it's all for naught, as my life kind of fell apart and reassembled itself into something new and wonderful on its own, anyway.

So of course, this issue is coming full-circle for me and it is scaring the hell out of me. My beloved Moody Teen has finally decided that he does, indeed, want to go to college, after years of planning on running an international car theft ring, instead. Yay college, right? Well, not so fast. He wants to go to college in Canada.  Now, don't get me wrong... I have nothing against Canada, except for the fact that we don't live in Canada. In fact, we live very far from Canada.

And here's where the dreamer in me rears her ugly head. I desperately want to find a way to make this work. Am I insane? Am I indulging my son in his unrealistic flights of fancy? There seems to be so many potential pitfalls, mainly concerning his health. The medicine, the breathing treatments, the chest PT, the exercise... If he doesn't keep up with all of it, his health would rapidly (RAPIDLY) spiral downward. 

So would I be sending him to his death? That sounds awfully melodramatic, grim and morose, but is it the truth (or am I just being melodramatic, grim and morose)? He's going to have to take on all of this at some point anyway, unless he lives at home forever, and that's not much of a life. But at least he would be alive, because I would make sure of it. 

I have to say, that on his ski trip, he did pretty well. He remembered most of his medicine (the really important stuff, anyway). We gave him a pass on his treatments, which I think was good for him, mentally. He needed a break. He generally doesn't volunteer to do any of this on his own, but he doesn't balk too much when we pull out the nebulizer and say, "Ok, it's time...". But bottom line: He has a ways to go in the responsibility department.

Lots to think about. Am I crazy? Should I just shut this down now and insist on him staying local? He's already had one dream taken from him, I am not sure I can bear to watch another die.

WW: 1-800-Your-Driving-Sucks

I apologize for the crass title, but after reviewing the evidence, I feel confident that you will deem it appropriate for this post. 

First things first...I was tagged by my gal pal over at Tiaras and Tantrums to find the 5th picture in the 5th file of the 5th folder on my 5th computer on the 5th floor of my 5th house. Or something along those lines. Well, my computer is very new and I have no photos on it yet, so I will have to look elsewhere.

Oh, well hey...  Mr. Super Shuttle Driver to the rescue! Today, I get to kill two birds with one very muddy stone because of a professional driver's skill/crack smoking/ineptitude. When I look at the photo below, I feel very full of words, most of which can't be repeated here. 

Now I will freely admit that our yard probably doesn't seem like much, but the point is, it is our yard (read: not a road). 

I would also like to mention that Mr. Super Shuttle Driver was not driving up our driveway to pick up anyone in our house. Rather, his driving skills are surpassed only by his navigation skills, and he was at the wrong house.

In closing, I'll applaud the entire Super Shuttle team for their consistency. It seems that their customer service department is operated by folks equally, if not more, moronic, clueless and irresponsible.

As always, Angie rocks! Go check out more Wordful Wednesday delights...

Tuesday's Tribute

I was going to write a nasty 'tribute' to the skillful Super Shuttle driver who apparently has an aversion to asphalt, but it seems rather silly to be complaining about my yard being ruined when there are people dealing with real, gut-wrenching sadness and loss. 

Our silly little meme... with suddenly a significant, poignant, ironic and sad name.

I'm going to take a pass today, but Jay's going full throttle. 

And don't worry, Mr. Super Shuttle driver, I haven't forgotten you. And I have the photographic evidence to prove it!

Yet Another Jay and Deb Production.

The Hilarious Side of Cystic Fibrosis

author's note: I have been so saddened by the loss of sweet, little Tuesday. It does seem that so many of us are facing tough times (to say the least). I wanted to bring a little humor back to my own day, and hopefully yours, as well. You all are the best!

I will have to start with a little background info. One of the effects of cystic fibrosis is some pretty foul poop. Being honest, it is absolutely horrific. It can pretty quickly, without a lot of notice, and one has to be ready to "exit stage left" immediately and have plenty of spare time on their hands. 

Somehow, we were on the subject of "poop" last night (See, it doesn't end when they become potty-trained... it actually gets worse), and we were reminded of the time our little cf patient was 13 and was lucky enough to go with a friend on a private, guided tour of Air Force One (yes, that one). He came home all excited, with lots of details and stories. The highlight being him taking one of his typical bowel movements in the President's private toilet (and he told us this so proudly, too). 

I know, I know... I think he should include it on his college resume, too. It can't hurt, that's for sure.