2 kids...3 martinis

Leaving

2011-06-23T14:59:00.002-05:00

I'm done here.

This place started out as a way of keeping family and friends updated on our daily lives after we moved to a state far away. It served that purpose, I suppose.

This place then morphed into a therapeutic and entertaining space for me to brain-dump, bitch and moan or to even just blather on about how much I love my kids. It was also kind of fun, too.

The truth is that these days, no one really gives a flying fuck WHAT we're doing anymore. It's been almost 4 years since we moved and out of sight, out of mind. And that's okay with me...now. It's not fun or therapeutic anymore and I have all but abandoned writing for all the wrong reasons. And I want to do it again, but not here.

The truth is that I made some friends here that I have never even met face to face. I am so lucky and happy to have "met" them. They've been supportive and wonderful.

The truth is I feel I have a lot more to say, but don't want to say it here. I want more privacy; anonymity. I want my therapy back and tired of having to edit myself because of the potential audience. I long for authenticity and the freedom to use it to my own advantage without the pain in the ass that can be those who want to use it against me.

This is my good-bye to this place: a place of incredible love and therapy and friendship when looking at it through rose colored glasses. Good-bye to vitriol and editing and mean anonymoususes who really are not so. I don't ever want to delete this space because then I'd be deleting my truth and my love for my babies which should always remain, even when I leave.

If you want to find me again, shoot me an email or a comment. Thanks for listening. XO

My Brain Has Diarrhea

2011-06-07T10:22:00.001-05:00

I'm not the type of person people stop conversations for.

I've never been much of an attention grabber or attention demander for that matter. Never the prettiest, funniest, smartest or most kind; no special sort of magnetism that draws people in. I'm one of those people who are forgettable and often misunderstood because most don't take the time to have a real conversation with me and I won't force it upon them. There are better and more important things to be done. I know. I'm that way too with a lot of those people who are also like me.

I have all kinds of respect for the person who takes the time to talk. Really talk. That to me is the most important trait a person can have: the ability to focus attention off of themselves for a brief moment in time to really listen. Listen. What a concept!

I go through my life not listening the way I should. I can hear the sounds rushing around me, but I'm not listening. It hurts to think of my daughter wanting me to hear her and I'm not present in the way I should be present. Put down the iphone, look away from the computer, drop the laundry kind of listening. I'm trying, TRYING to do more of it. She's everything to me. I've made strides but have much further to go.

Inclusion/exclusion. Confusion. Seclusion. Introspection. Resolution.

I'm learning. Learning. It's a never-ending litany of life lessons. Listen. Listen with your ears, girl! Pay attention. Now, listen with your heart. Care. Remember.

We all need to feel important to someone. I want to be that someone. I don't want to be the someone who just says a careless, "hi" or "see ya!" when you invisibly walk away. I want to be someone who makes an impression on you as a person who didn't necessarily have anything important to say, but rather made you remember how you felt to speak with...in a good way, of course. I'm learning...I'm learning...

Don't take my quiet for granted. Don't walk over my back. Don't make assumptions and implications about me that your wouldn't want to have made about you when you have no idea.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In other news...

Last night someone said this to me in conversation--it went a little something like this:

RB(Rude Bitch): I know! She said she'll be sad when her kid goes to Kindergarten because then she'll have to go to work!

Me: {{crickets}}

end of conversation

This was something like a veritable slap-in-the-face. I just wanted to say, "Do you know that I don't work and my kids are in 4th and 7th grades?" But, she knew it and said what she said anyway. I've been getting a lot of comments like this lately the more I crawl out of my cave. Things like, " I feel so stupid in front of these people while my kids are gone. They must think I just sit around all day and drink coffee! HAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Yeah.

My kids are gone from about 8:40 am until 3:05 pm. Yeah. I just sit around all day and drink coffee. Really? Why do other moms say things like this to me? I know that they know how much there is to do to run a household. I'm also lucky enough to be here every time I have a sick kid or an orthodontist appointment and to run one, two or sometimes all three dogs to the vet when they need to go. And The Man never has to miss a minute of work for any of it. I'm also lucky enough to be able to drive my kids to and from school when it's sub-zero outside for the long winters without bus service being available to us. Yeah, I'm lucky all right. I'm here when the principal calls with news of in-school suspensions, school nurse calls of fevers and then able to be there to tend to my child's relative catastrophe at moment's notice. Literally. I take care of business, day in, day out. Rarely a dull moment.

I also have the luxury to treat myself to a very occasional salon visit, long lunches or a monthly day of naps when I bleed like I'm dying. I'm lucky my husband can afford to take care of me in this way and in turn, I take care of everything else for him--for them. And it's a lot better than wiping the ungrateful asses of strangers who might not bathe for weeks...months...

I've taken pride in the fact that I have raised and will continue to raise my children. I am their mother, and I hold that job as sacred. I brought them into the world, dammit, and I'm going to raise them and provide a fun and loving life for them with an ever-present mother. Period. No one else can take credit for that. Not a babysitter, nanny, manny, A+ Before and After School Care Inc., Grandma, Grandpa--none of them. Just me. That's why I had them. And I want to be here for them until I don't think they need me as much. I used to think that day would be when Nattles trotted off to first grade, Nolan in 4th, and I'd be free as a bird to make sweet moulah and they just wouldn't need me so much. Whatthefuckevah. They came out of my va-jay-jay and well, they're mine. They need me. It never stops. Now shut the fuck up and pay attention to what you're saying. And go get me my mutherfucking coffee...

Thanks.

Ick

2011-02-01T10:16:00.001-06:00

37 days until we leave for London.

37 days I have to feel better in order to withstand the rigors of walking and walking and walking to keep up the pace. With kids.

Today, I am planning a trip to the Y and looking up some good recipes on allrecipes.com. I love that site! I found a balsamic chicken breast recipe and a Cowboy Caviar recipe I haven't tasted since summer. I so need a taste of summer right now--fresh herbs: parsley, basil, thyme, rosemary, cilantro, chives. Oh, how I miss them! I know I could grow them inside, but for some reason, I don't. I wait...and growing season is SO short here. Ick.

Anyway, could I be more bloated right now? Do you ever just long for your period to start, already? I feel and look pregnant. The older I get, the worse PMS gets too. Ick.

In the past when I've been on missions to seriously shed some poundage, I've always done it alone--on my own. Yes, it's been done before, but it's been 10 years since I did it in a serious way. I spent my entire 30's in very poor shape after my last pregnancy. I feel sad to say that. I'm hoping the 40's are better, but I so lack the motivation although last night I felt so horribly awful (thanks in large part to PMS) that I think it's really time. But oh, how I love food...and lots of it...and the good stuff (cheese, wine, carbs, etc...).

Feeling very ugly right now. I think I'll go do some laundry and avoid all mirrors. Yay, me.

NightThoughts

2011-01-29T02:05:00.002-06:00

Remember that inane post yesterday about nothing? Yeah, well--here's to movin' it on down the line...

I'm reading so much sadness in this space that has been going on for months and MONTHS! It pretty much sucks and paints me as a total Doom and Gloom Girl which I'm not. In real life, I'm actually pretty happy, but this site doesn't reflect it properly. I gotta get back to the lighter side.

As I type this at 1:44 a.m. Saturday morning, I am listening to poker on ESPN and kind of freezing my arse off at the same time. I could just go get into my warm bed, but I have some stuff to say.

I got a very confused, angry and anonymous comment out of left-field on an almost year old post tonight that was obviously from a friend or family member. It got me kind of woken-up and caught off guard when I checked my email around midnight. Somebody's not a member of the Kathy Riddle Fan Club anymore, I think. Read this and tell me what you think. I was surprised and a little confused. I can't help but feel like the author of this comment doesn't really even know me let alone care for me or my family or she never would have left an "anonymous" message like that. That post was written with a few specific people and instances in mind and I don't think that the author ( I have a gut feeling I know her identity) has any idea she was not one of them.

I am once again reminded of this song. It happens every time! (And I love Carly Simon.) Have you ever written a blog post and offended someone who mistakenly thought it was about them?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Anyway, it's 41 days until we leave for London, Canterbury and Paris with the kids. I am a little anxious about the trip, but completely grateful that we are going and excited to watch my babies' faces as they see it all for the first time.

I'm going to try to get into a little better walking shape this time around before we leave. I'm calling this journey, "40 days to feeling better." My goal is to do something every day that is good for my body be it exercise (which I want to accomplish almost daily--a HUGE step for me), consuming truly nourishing fuel for my body, or being kind to myself by caring about my health. I really want to increase my level of activity and energy in preparation for the trip because, dude, we walked miles upon MILES last time and my chubbiness was wasted-tired and sore from it all. I just want to do it better this time. For me, for them. I'll take any and all suggestions you might have for a 40 year-old blob as myself. :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nolan and The Man went to see Linkin Park tonight in St. Paul. They loved it! Nolan said it was the best time of his life yet. I was so happy for him. That was one of my Christmas gifts to them. Tomorrow they are going on their first ice fishing trip. Exciting! I kind of wanted to go and take pictures, but since the trip is leaving early, Momma and Nattles have both decided to forgo it in hopes of having some quality sleep-in time. I LOVE my sleep-in time!! The Man will photograph the excursion for me and I shall most definitely be posting pictures of it soon!

No Reason for Posting...

2011-01-28T09:22:00.000-06:00

Alone.

I'm hibernating a lot this winter. Sometimes, I don't leave the house for days. Sitting here alone may have used to be a bad thing in my mind, but really--it's NOT a bad thing. It's peaceful. It gives me time to think and sort things out in my mind regarding the world and everyone and everything in it. It's almost a constant meditation, so I wonder at times if spring will bring a change and will I like it?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My heart is on edge today for my friend. I'm wishing him the best outcome from surgery. Cancer sucks. Too much of it in this world, right?

I have a coffee date this morning then a hair appointment. I kind of don't want to leave the house for either. I think I need a Hermit Intervention.

I'm wondering what happened to my funny...my inspiration to write. It's gone. All gone. Blah. Maybe I'll find it once I get out of the house?

I'm leaving now...this was the most pointless.post.ever.

Just a few thoughts...

2011-01-10T14:35:00.000-06:00

Today, a lot of things amaze me.

People who do a lot of talking but don't live up to the talk. I think this is called hypocrisy.
People who put conditions on love. Then it's not love.
Hateful talk. Hateful actions.
Hate and fear mongering in politics then dumbfoundedness when deaths occur. Duh.
The incomprehensible, juvenile nerve of a young, dumb, naive girl.
The dichotomy with which a person lives their life instead of being true to only one way. Make a choice.
How some claim to love but don't move to make the damage they caused repaired.
How some hide behind religion and use it as an insurance policy or means to, as they perceive, get what they want out of their genie-god by doing what is "expected" or perceived as good and true when their innate character only shows otherwise. Transparent, I say. Spirituality should come from a pure place, not a motivation to get stuff.
Meanness. Pure, sheer meanness upon a bystander.

Enough with the negative. Here's what amazes me in a good way:

My beautiful girl and her long, long legs
My life. My family--namely, my husband and children. They are the definition of karma for me, I think, if I do say so myself.
The handsomeness of my son.
The steadfastness of my husband. He never wavers. He's good; innately, supremely good and true and has given me a life that surpasses all expectations. Amazing.
Exponential love within the walls of my home. I swear, it just breeds!
How my life started out and where it is now and how on earth I made it here!
The transformation I've experienced in 3 1/2 years in this place and a specific person who has opened up my eyes to so much. I give a lot of credit to her for helping me to be happy where I am. (Yes, I know you're reading this and yes, I love you for all you've done for me and my family. I don't think you really know how much.)
Good food. Good wine. Good friends and the kindness that radiates our way each day.
Puppies. Cute.little.puppies. I'm a bowl of mush.
The capacity we have for learning in this life. And understanding. And growing. It never ends.

Peace.

Revelation

2010-12-28T21:47:00.001-06:00

Hope all two of you enjoyed our annual Riddle Family Christmas Letter. It sure was fun to write!

I just wanted to say that this time of year really is revealing as to where true love and giving lie. I see who gives a shit and who never will. I see it all for what it is--for what it always has been--with no wishfulness and no disappointment. No more expectations to be smashed to pieces and no more faking it and half-witted professions. Sweet fucking jesus, it's over and I will never go back...

I love my family. They take residence in my heart and their love is pure and everlasting. I think I've found my true belonging in this place, with these people and with the ones whose blood is not my own. I am happy beyond belief and thankful that I have come to know these sweet, genuine souls who never seem to leave or betray me. It all feels so real and complete. It was just meant to be and why I was brought to this place. To find this peace.

I received true kindness and love for Christmas. What more could a girl ask for? My only hope is that I can return it the same as it has been given to me.

I will.

A Beautiful Christmas Story

2010-12-16T17:45:00.002-06:00

Thy Riddle Family Christmas Letter 2010

2010 has been a stellar year in the Riddle household. We have so much to tell and so little space to do it in…

First of all, Nolan went through puberty in 2010. He now has armpit hair, so you know what that means (wink, wink). He is 13 now and plays soccer, football, basketball, has taken up snowboarding and jumping into snowdrifts whenever he can. When not making straight A’s, you can catch him taking knives to school, making B’s and C’s, and generally being a shithead to his teachers all for the attention of a few slutty girls. Rat bastard…

Natalie is a princess. Literally. We had her crowned in May in a special ceremony at the American Girl Place at the Mall of America. She even got a certificate, so Greg and I think it’s legal. She has never made us more proud this year as when she discovered that Santa was not real. At 10 years old, this is quite a feat! She is also playing in the local competitive soccer league on the U10 team called “the Fire” and she couldn’t be more cute and precious. We’re sure that the US Olympic team will be calling us soon.

Greg has been incredibly less stupid this year. He got a raise in July which put us over the $200,000 mark and we are SO looking forward to upping it to $250,000 soon so as to benefit from those “tax cuts for the rich” that we keep hearing about. Being rich is so fucking much fun that it hurts sometimes. He gets to travel to many faraway places which brings much joy to ~~Kathy~~ Greg because sometimes he even gets to ride a camel. And boy! does he LOVE camels! He also got to experience the most fiery shit of his life while in India in 2010—his ass hole is STILL burning from it and he hasn’t been there since July! Imagine how thankful we all are!

Kathy is a wonderful wife, mother and friend to all who grace her presence. She gives to the needy, cooks a mean casserole for her friends when they are in need, and is finding out that reaching nirvana is easier when not in a house that includes her family. Kathy met a nice friend this year in Las Vegas, Juan, who texts her often and even showed her some cool things that you can do to make money on the internet! For that, we are truly thankful!

We hope that you can be a mere fraction of what we are in the upcoming New Year! We are so, so very thankful for our wonderful lives and that we don’t have to live in abject poverty like we know some of you do. Baby Jesus is indeed glorified!

Merry Christmas to all! And to all a Bud Lite!

Another Journey

2010-12-08T10:41:00.001-06:00

Our Spring Break this year will be spent in London and Canterbury, England and Paris, France. We're taking the kids. I can't believe it!! My dream come true!

The quaint cobblestone streets of Canterbury

The Beauty on the Seine

Buckingham Palace

Natalie can't wait to see Harrod's in London, ride the tube ("Mind the gap!"), and, of course, see the Eiffel Tower in Paris. She's also starting to talk about what she will wear while in Paris. I love that girl. I swear, she could not be any more perfect in my eyes. We will also be taking them to see the Mona Lisa at the Louvre. Sorry, but Mona pales in comparison to my girl; I noticed that the first time I saw her.

Nolan is excited too. He wants his own camera--a good one--so he can capture the sights in his own view. I love that idea. I'd love to see it all through his eyes. Those gorgeous, brown eyes.

Sometimes I feel so crippled with anger and resentment then stuff like this happens and I cannot believe this is my life. I know that somehow karma has recognized an imbalance from 1970 until now and I'm reaping the benefits of a shitty life in the beginning. The anger, hurt and resentment remain but get pushed so far back that I forget it's there. And it's easy to forget when the most amazing love and life is literally sitting in my lap.

My marriage isn't everything I want it to be. Going away with him helps. Seeing him in a different light makes him look a little more like the husband I wanted all my life. I like to feel taken care of and when in a foreign land, he takes very good care of me. Why can't he do it that well on U.S. soil? Damn.

We have 3 months until we leave and it couldn't come any more slowly. I want it to be tomorrow. I can't wait to show my babies the world.

Horrible Expectations

2010-12-07T10:29:00.000-06:00

Expectations.

This is what sets us up for hurt, disappointment, anger, loss.

Letting go of expectations is an incredibly difficult task and takes time. In the end it means some sort of loss that is usually grieved and a new normal is achieved.

I'm still working on that "new normal". It feels like a scratchy, stiff, wool coat two sizes too big that I am forced to wear for now. I have to wear it until I can bear my skin again. Or not.

Letting go is a skill, I think. You can either do it, or not. I've done so much of it that sometimes it seems unfair. Don't we all have certain expectations out of life and from the people around us? If things and people don't conform, is it right to give up? Recently, I read something on facebook (of course) that said something like, "everyone will hurt you; it's your decision to choose who is worth getting hurt by again."

Still confused. Still. I feel alone and busy and loved but all in different places.

What I've learned: letting go sucks and I should be really good at it by now. Expectations suck and I wish I had none. (My mantra? "You can't be disappointed if you expect nothing.") I like where I am and I intend to stay. I desperately love the people around me. They will disappoint me, sure, but one thing I know is that their love will abide and never fail. And mine will too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In other news...

I've been soul searching for years now. I'm coming out of the closet: my name is Kathy and I am an agnostic.

Duh--right?

Trippin' on Tryptophan

2010-11-25T19:07:00.000-06:00

Happy Thanksgiving.

It snowed a little today. It was beautiful while it lasted. I played with my kids and a couple of dogs. We laughed and laughed. They helped me make dinner today too. All of them. Of course, I had to ask, but they did it willingly and with a happy heart. It felt so good.

I read something about unconditional love today and whether or not it can really exist without experiences to back it up. I think I have it in my children, of course--but I think that's pretty much it. Everyone else comes with rules to follow or they get the ax--right?

My best girl called me twice today. I dearly love my best girl; she has absolutely saved my hope in love and connection with anyone outside of these four walls. I know it exists now and we are always on similar wavelengths. I think we were closely connected in our former lives. I'm not sure how, maybe I'll figure it out someday. I'm glad there's someone out there thankful for me today too. I hope everyone can be so lucky.

My family is snoozing in front of a TV full of football. I listen to her breathe just out of my view and I melt just at the sound of the air rushing in and out of her mouth at regular intervals. I want to be near her; I want to smell him too. I want to touch his face and be thankful for the 100,000,000th time.

it's pretty sad that this post can apply to so many and that i've been here before

2010-11-08T12:42:00.001-06:00

I feel compelled to write today. Honestly--compelled like a gravitational pull was rendering me weak in the knees, stomach in knots and tears pushing to the surface to run-- not walk--(abandoning all things laundry) to the computer. I thought about who still reads here and realized I've lost most of my readers due to offense, speaking too much of my own truth or near abandonment of this space. Either way, I'm still here and this is my cheapest form of therapy; cheaper than Two Buck Chuck even, so I feel safe to let it out. Here. In my own words.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So much thinking, ruminating, self-flagellation keeps going through my mind. Thinking things like "Why?" and "What did I do to deserve it?" All I can think is, "Why not me?" and "Nothing." It doesn't answer much, but that's all I can come up with. We all deserve a little pity party of our own now and then, so this is my time and maybe while I'm here, I can make heads or tails of this situation. I'm not saying I'm a complete, lifetime innocent and without flaws in situations and relationships, but it sure has been seemingly unwarranted and bizarre mixed with incredibly bad timing. And sure, millions have it so much worse: I don't have cholera, I'm not being stoned to death or pimped out or in the middle of a famine or drought, but my pain is real even if the cause pales in comparison to all the world's atrocities.

The last time I cried, it was for a specific occurrence and today it just so happens to be for the same one. Shock. Complete and utter disappointment. Pain. Total confusion. Recall. Bafflement. Unfamiliarity. Betrayal. Intense regret. Embarrassment. Anger. Defense. Seeing that I'm not really deserving of the ugly side of anger gives me some comfort, so I'll take it. I'm not one who easily forgets: my heart has a memory that my mind can't erase. I guess that's my way of saying that maybe I hold grudges for too long. I've never been good at letting hurt go. But I wouldn't say I'm bitter--just still very hurt and a little confused. No...a lot confused. Can you forgive and still hurt at the same time? Can you forgive a person and still want them removed from your life--or at least put at a very far and safe distance--for good?

I guess something that has been with you for practically your entire life doesn't have to continue to be. You can love something at a safe distance that spares you the pain of being too close. You can love the glow of a fire without getting close enough to it to be burned. I am also reminded of one of my favorite quotes from a very wise soul-- "When someone shows you who they are the first time, believe them." I know there is always context to this and in context only will I place it. No, this wasn't the first time, or even the second for that matter, but I believe with the strength that my family gives me and with all the love and good that I have in my life, that it was, indeed, the last time. I will refuse to go back again for more; I should have believed you the first time.

I'm Forty, Muthaf*ckas!

2010-10-27T15:53:00.001-05:00

I'm forty. 4-0. Today.

Haven't been here in a while. Haven't felt the need to write. I write best when I'm melancholy and life just hasn't been that way in a while. I'm happy today. I really am. I have so much to be happy about. Reaching the age of forty is in itself a feat and a joy just to be alive. It's better than the alternative.

I've missed this site and been a lazy and neglectful blogger. I'm sorry for some reason. But I do love this way to express oneself. It's cathartic and therapeutic and sometimes pretty stupid, but good all at once.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

My son just had a birthday too. He is a teenager of 13 now. Amazingly handsome, smart, funny, tall, protective and loving. You just wouldn't believe how he's grown in the past year. I've struggled with Nolan-haters lately and it makes me sick. Basically, anyone who thrusts their own insecurities and child-rearing issues on my son needs an ass whipping in my book. But I am calm and my new-found maturity that came with four decades made me listen and stay detached. He's a good boy no matter what SHE says. He made me a birthday card in foreign languages class today, decorated with a red heart and all. Attached was a piece of notebook paper with the autographs of all his homies who said things like, "Happy Birthday Mrs. Riddle" and "I love you"--it was quite amusing. Again, jesuschristallmighty, I LOVE that boy!!!

Sissy Girl has a birthday coming up as well in eight days. She's turning the big 1-0 this year and we're having a fashion themed birthday party/sleepover to prove it. Many Silly Bands will be worn and traded, headbands made, junk food eaten and I know I'll have to keep Nolan away from all the giggly girls in the basement. My girlie has grown so much this year as well and is turning into one of the most beautiful creatures I have yet to see. jesusfuckingchrist, I love her...

The Man keeps working and travelling and working and watching football and doing dumb stuff and working. He's been to Brazil this year, just returned from India and is slated to return to Brazil in early December. It's all good: Momma likey all the miles we get to keep what with these excursions. Paid my first class ass to Vegas last weekend. Oh yes, I said Vegas. More on that later...

The Man, circa two weeks ago, in some kind of traditional Indian garb.

So, being forty isn't so bad. Feels no different from 35 or 36 or 37 really. I'm thinking I'm gonna rock this whole forty thing all to hell anyways, so there.

I Got Nothin'

2010-06-28T18:04:00.003-05:00

The most action I've seen involving The Man in quite some time. And, of course, it is action involving him handling balls of some sort...

I haven't posted in a while and I'm here to post again as directed by my neighbor and friend, Katie. Hold on...here it goes...

My back hurts. I think I strained it getting out of an inner tube on the Lazy Fucking River yesterday. So much for relaxation. We are all sunburned to some degree. You'd think I'd have this mothering thing down now after 12+ years, but no...Nolan's ears are crispy, Nat's shoulders are a shade of pink I don't think I've ever seen occur in nature and my chest looks like Magda's from Something About Mary. (Um, don't click if you're squeamish--or at work.) Nice.

Nolan got a hair cut. It's so freakin' cute. I'll post a photo when I get a chance what with all the hurt back, sunburn and all...

Natalie plays soccer too much. I'm starting to hate soccer. And the World Cup too? Really? Right now? Sheesh...

Just finished Twilight and started New Moon. Natalie and I read it together at night and try to stay awake as long as possible in order to enjoy it fully. We are totally TEAM EDWARD. Sometimes we only read a couple of pages before it's lights out and I make her wait until we are finished with the book before we see the movie. I'm always way behind schedule on these trends, so please don't tell me what happens, mmm-k? Thanks.

The Man is travelling a bit this summer. First, Sao Paulo, Brazil then to Pune, India. No plans for a vacay right now 'cause we don't know when he's available to go with us. Fun. The kids and I should just go somewhere ourselves, no?

Last week was stressful. Not only am I dealing with a kid in full-blown puberty and a girl who gets a bit moody and messy, but sometimes, I swear, my husband gets dumber as the years go by. I'm serious. Do you ever feel like you are the only one in the house who can make a good decision or actually know what needs to be accomplished in an evening/day/week/month? Sorry, but Man, you know exactly what I mean. But last week I also got some very sad family sort of news about my niece. Here's the long and short of it: smart, impressionable 16 year old girl--20-something dude, a few years later, he's no longer a child molester and he can legally manipulate her into getting hitched while ditching her 4.0 brilliant-ness and family who loves her all so she can play house and bond with rusted-out trailer dwellers. Can you say "Underachiever of the Century"? All of this under a blanket of lies. I'm returning the birthday gifts I never sent her. So there. Nanny-nanny boo-boo. Sadness. And did I mention that said former child molester is moving her across the country? She's 19 too, by the way...

I rejoined facebook under new terms I have bestowed upon myself: block many, delete more, and don't.go.there. Friend me if ya wanna be bored to death.

Ahhhhh...summer.

LOOK AT MY BAG! (that's what HE said)

2010-06-15T12:32:00.000-05:00

This is my new summer bag.

Jealous? Here's where you can get it. Or, look at the Simply Bags badge to the left and click on it. Go ahead. There's, like, a million to choose from. And the personalization is sublime...

Bob Shirilla is the best. I think he's the best because he sent me this awesome bag so quickly after putting the order in that my head actually spun. And Simply Bags is based out of Ohio, where I lived for oh, about 14 months one time. My son was born in Ohio, so it is one of my favorite places on earth.

Did I mention the embroidery on this bag is beautiful? It is. And the quality is comparable to the higher end brands without the pesky prices. You know what I mean?

A girl can never have too many bags. Or shoes. Or glasses of wine.

Free to a Good Home: Caucasian Boy With Skin Problems and a Smart Mouth

2010-06-04T10:55:00.005-05:00

There's a boy up for adoption, in case you're looking. Let me describe him for you...

He's 12 going on 666 and likes to argue more than be complacent. He's prone to pneumonia having wimpy lungs and is quite costly when it comes to filling prescriptions, taking him to doctor visits and what-not. He's handsome as all get-out and has been known to harbor a secret girlfriend or two even though they never talk outside of school. He's 5'6", 139 lbs. and full of shit. Literally. He clogs the toilets in the house with alarming frequency. He'll eat the last piece of pizza and drink all the milk in the house regularly as if it's the last gallon on earth. Keeping this boy clothed is tricky since he outgrows them every time you turn around. He likes to talk back, sneak exponential amounts of sugar into his diet, and lie from time to time. He also likes to spend money, but that's not genetic or anything...

He's amazingly smart but doesn't really want to show it or apply it fully at school. His teachers love him and hate him all at once. He's happy to make B's or even an occasional C if it suits him, unwilling to break a sweat when it comes to school work. Very much an underachiever unless fires are lit underneath his gluteus, this boy, so fires must be lit often and 99% of them are only lit by the female parent.

He farts and laughs at the dinner table, regularly wants to show off his sprouting armpit hair, and recycles worn underwear even when clean ones are readily available (made so by his laundress and female parent). He's been known to use phrases toward said female parent like, "Your mom _____________(insert whatever it is you have just uttered that has nothing to do with your mother in particular)", "I'm not trying to argue," and my recent favorite (not), "CALM DOWN!"--directed toward me, his female parent, when reprimanding him recently.

{{sigh}}

Obviously, he has recovered from his recent bout with pneumonia. He's feeling fit and frisky as all fucking hell. He's grounded for a week starting today for being disrespectful, just so you know...

Any takers?

p.s. I'm just kidding. See post below. But don't think I'm not dreading the fact that school's out starting Wednesday, 3:05 p.m. Help.

Beautiful Boy

2010-05-28T09:18:00.008-05:00

My sweet, sickie boy at his orchestra concert last night.

Look how freaking tall he's gotten! Grown 1/2 inch in 2 weeks, according to my calculations...

Well, we've been dealing with pneumonia again in the Riddle house this week. Yep, Nolan. Again. He went to school for about an hour on Monday when I got a call from the nurse. She was going to keep him, I decided to bring him home. What a freakin' mom I am for sending my Bubby-boo to school with pneumonia. I win Mother of the Year...again.

So, we waited for him to improve between breathing treatments and prednisone. Nothin'. A trip to the doctor and a chest x-ray confirmed what I already knew with my x-ray vision: pneumonia. Atypical. Streaks in his lungs. Of course. Brought on by mowing the grass on Saturday. Now I know my boy is allergic to grass. Duh. Mom of the Year again.

I finally picked up his homework yesterday afternoon. He's caught up now in under 2 hours. I hope he doesn't fail his math final from lack of studying or oxygen. I don't think he will, but you never know what hijinks this boy will pull out of his ass. And right now, I'll let him get away with just about anything. My Bubby-boo. I wuv him. As I type, I'm letting him watch "Zombieland" for the second time since last night. Yes, you read that right, "Zombieland"...rated R for violence, gore and language. It's pretty disgusting and I'd never let him see it if he weren't sick and pathetic and coughing all the time. Pass me that trophy. You know, the one that says, "Mom of the Year..."

He played in his orchestra concert last night. His teacher was okay with it even though he's been absent all week. They have worked so hard and come so far in 8 months, give or take. It was a great concert. He coughed most of the way though it and forgot his sheet music. Played the entire concert by memory. And I watched him. I don't think he ever missed a note. When playing the violin, it's kind of obvious when you screw up, and he didn't . Memory like an elephant, that boy. I love him to pieces.

We were at the doctor the other day, just sitting there listening to this resident drone on and on with what I'm sure he thought were words of wisdom imparting upon a lowly, ignorant mother of an asthmatic child. I tuned him out for a moment and looked at my son sitting on the examining table. He looked at me with a glint of boyish naughtiness in his eyes and smiled so knowingly--he knew I wasn't paying attention and that this guy wasn't schooling his momma at all. At that exact moment, I wanted to burst into tears. The overwhelming urge to cry was hard to stifle, but I controlled myself and as I looked at my 5'6", 139 lb. 12 year old boy, I could only think these words, "My beautiful boy. My beautiful.beautiful.boy."

He knows me so well. Oh, and we're trading lungs here pretty soon if I can get him to agree to the switch. So far, he refuses.

You don't want my lungs.

Yes, I do.

No, you don't.

But I want you to have MINE.

{{silence}}

Get better, boy. Mommy loves him.

I Like to Think of it as Karma

2010-05-14T09:28:00.012-05:00

Today, I get to go watch my girl run and jump and play tug-o-war with her classmates.

I am a lucky woman.

This weekend, I get to help the kids doggie sit the neighbors' dog, go to a wine-infused night of bunco and attend and photograph a 3 year-old's birthday party with My Girl (the "hired" helper!) all the while the sun will shine and the 75 degree breeze will blow across my face and through the red in her hair.

I am a lucky woman.

I get to make cards for a baby shower I'm throwing for a friend. I get to plan the menu. I get to ponder the likeliness of getting laundry done. Or not. And I get to do all of this while wondering what I'll be cooking for my family's next meal.

I am a lucky woman.

I get to be annoyed by a 12 year-old boy's sloppy and stinky ways. I will style My Beauty's hair this weekend and possibly take her shopping (Daddy got PAID and she happened upon a forgotten 5 dollar bill in her pocket yesterday)--most likely for a new bathing suit since she's almost busting out of the old one. She likes her bathing suit to consist of long board shorts and a short sleeved swim top.

I am a lucky woman.

I will lie in bed tonight with the wetness of two...maybe three kisses left on my face before I drift off to sleep. Enveloped in love every night before my eyes close, I will wish for it to never end.

I may damn the wrinkles on my face and the pudge around my midsection and thighs and hips and pretty much everywhere else, but when I go to sleep at night, the loves of my life are in my last, fuzzy thoughts--and my first concern every morning. I dream of them and then wake up to find out that life is simply better than the dream. It's more than I ever knew existed. Love beyond measure. A bond that runs deep. Four souls who never waver or doubt.

I am a lucky woman.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tell me what makes you the luckiest person in the world.

Our Weekend on Gull Lake

2010-05-11T14:06:00.003-05:00

My sweetie looking for treasures on the beach. I have so many pictures of her in this mode.

Nolan on the pier.

Some of Natalie's treasures: a gull feather and piece of granite washed up on shore (to add to her ever-growing rock collection!)

The weather was beautiful.

Much ping pong was played!

I also have many, many pictures like this one too.

Daddy and girl on the boat.

My future lake home.

Freezing on the boat, but happy :)

And she wasn't the least bit afraid of the water!!!! Yes!!

Feeling Minnesota

2010-05-02T15:48:00.004-05:00

I don't miss it anymore.

Two years, eight months and 10 days ago we left a home we loved dearly and arrived wide-eyed to a new place full of unknowns, but it was our new home nonetheless. Full of a mixture of exhaustion, excitement and enthusiasm, all four of us took to discovering our strange new surroundings and making our new house a home. Together.

But then reality set in: the kids went to school, The Man left for work, and here I was in this house. All. Alone. That was the onset of my newly found hermit-dom.

It was demoralizing to watch the people around us laughing with long held friends, family--reunions, kids' sporting events, holidays. It felt isolating and lonely to say the least. And it didn't help that the people we did meet didn't seem to share our enthusiasm for making new friendships. More often than not, they merely looked the other way when we met again. Inexplicable snootiness, it seemed. Now it's different. Mostly. The tide has shifted ever-so-slightly.

Trips back to Indiana have garnered a feeling of not belonging there any longer as well. Feelings of chasing down emotions that are always out of reach and people who aren't interested, really, have all been learning and growing experiences. It's sad to find out that your former reality wasn't even real after all--merely a figment of the imagination and wishful thinking. Coming to terms with what a family IS really does hit you like a ton of bricks and who you want to be associated with all makes so much more sense when peered upon through a new perspective. And I sure did get me some here in Minnesota.

I love my life here in Minnesota. I love anywhere I am as long as I am with my sweet little family. They are what makes every color brighter, every day richer and any experience worth living for whether it be eating a lunch in bed that was made by Natalie or going to see a parade in downtown Anoka that basically sucks...it's all good when we're together. All of it. I know how lucky I am and not afraid to say it. It's not perfect, don't get me wrong, but it's boring and good.

I never knew this day would come that I would be happy to be here, just where I am, again. But here I am and I couldn't be more thankful.

This Recipe is Nothing Compared to My Kick-Ass Photo on Flickr (to your left)

2010-04-26T09:50:00.007-05:00

We had the most amazing supper last night. Everyone was happy for a change and our meal was fresh, colorful, healthy and filling--can you believe that? My kids ate vegetables and didn't complain or avoid them; it was a stellar night in the Riddle household.

I have to share with you the food: it was beyond good; I'm talking you'd-pay-a-fortune-for-this-in-a-restaurant good. Actually, dinner was inspired by my trip to Costco yesterday and a fairly recent introductory trip to California Pizza Kitchen in Maple Grove and the consuming there of the Tricolore Salad. I have no photo at the moment of the loveliness that was supper, but if you decide to make this, it's simple and needs NO photos. Oh, sweet jesus, here we go...

Here's a list of ingredients you'll need. Remember, I do no measuring, just tasting, so work with me here.

::Ingredients::

Flatout multi-grain wraps, one for each person
shredded or shaved Parmesan cheese
olive oil
corn syrup
honey
salt
garlic powder
fresh (preferably organic) baby spring mix greens
Dijon mustard
apple cider vinegar (or any other kind you like)
Jar of marinated artichoke hearts

And for your side Caprese salad, you will need:

Roma tomatoes--2 good sized
ball of fresh mozzarella
olive oil
salt
pepper
fresh or dried basil

First, you want to get started on making your flatbreads nice and crispy. Crispy = Good.

::Flatbreads::

Preheat oven to 450. Lay flatouts on a cookie sheet. Whisk together equal parts corn syrup and water in a small bowl (only about a tablespoon of each). With a basting brush, brush the mixture onto the flatbreads--don't worry about coating them completely, this is just to help caramelize the crust a little. Sprinkle the breads with salt and garlic powder to your taste then add your shaved or shredded Parmesan to top. Drizzle with olive oil and place in preheated oven for about 5 minutes or until just starts to brown and cheese melts.

::Dijon dressing::

Begin to prepare dressing for the spring mix greens: pour about 1 cup olive oil into a large measuring bowl. Add about 3-4 tablespoons Dijon mustard and a couple of squirts of honey (sweeten later to taste at end). Add a dash of vinegar, salt, pepper and whisk together. Taste to see if you need more mustard or honey and add if needed. Set aside.

::Caprese Salad::

Now, get the caprese salad together: I didn't have fresh basil last night, but you could use it here to make this even better! Whisk together about 1/4 cup olive oil, a dash or two of salt, pepper and a healthy tablespoon or two of dried basil. Set aside while you slice your tomatoes, I like them sliced thick, and slice fresh mozzarella as well. Lay out on a plate alternating tomato with mozzarella then drizzle with olive oil/basil mixture. YUM!!

::Toss your salad and assemble::

Next, take flatbreads out of oven. Place greens in a bowl and toss with Dijon dressing adding a little at a time until it is dressed to your liking. Lay one flatbread per plate, top with spring mix salad, add more Parmesan on top and scatter a few marinated artichoke hearts around as well.

Now it eat and thank me later.

****this recipe is gay-friendly as a homage, the headings are in rainbow colors****

Goodbye, My Sweet

2010-04-17T14:07:00.004-05:00

Katie went to sleep so peacefully today. I had no idea how hard it was going to hit me. We were all in the room when she left us; she was surrounded by a lot of love and compassion. The kids handled it wonderfully and were so strong and yet so fragile. We held her, pet her, kissed her and confessed our undying love for her.

She was a great dog.

Comic Relief

2010-04-16T09:45:00.006-05:00

My Katie :: March 1995-April 17, 2010

Here at the Riddle household we've been playing up some fun words to cut through some sad times. Recently, we've taken to inventing words like "bipples" and "zipples" and throwing in, for good measure, was Nolan's use of the word "benis". He came up with that one from the backseat of the car on the way home from Dave & Buster's Wednesday night. I'm so proud.

So here's what entertains us: if you have nipples, and you are a girl, then you have "gipples". If you have nipples and you are a woman, you have "wipples". See? How fun is that?! We've even taken to calling our dog, Zoey's nipples (I know, they are technically "teats", but hey, this is more fun), zipples! This game is good for some belly laughs from 3rd graders and some "EWWWWWWW"s from the preteen set. Good fun. But you must have nipples to play this game. Extra nipples are a bonus.

So, the sadness? Well, we took an unexpected trip to Indiana over spring break due to the death of a loved family member, Uncle Steve. Uncle Steve was a crazy-good guitar player, self taught, and all-around good human being. Nolan worshipped his mad bluesy guitar skillz and he always had a riff to teach him. Natalie just loves everyone so deeply and was heartbroken as well. But, you know, the trip was good and saying "goodbye" to Uncle Steve was a privilege. To me, he was the guy at all the family gatherings that made sure he said "hello" and always had a conversation to strike up or a compliment to be shared, especially when there were none to be had elsewhere. I think his heart was never in a wrong place and I always found that so refreshing. He sure will be missed.

On a much lesser note, the sadness just keeps coming; we will be losing our beloved dog Katie tomorrow morning around 11:30. She has been with us longer than we have had our own kids and for 15 years she has been loved very much. We've decided to let her go on a somewhat good note rather than to prolong her life of which the quality has become quite low. We've decided to take quality over quantity at this point, but I can't tell you how hard this decision was. I've never had to put a pet down before and it feels so wrong in my heart but right in my head. Please send out some good vibes to us and especially to Natalie who will be the most devastated of us all I think. That girl just loves an animal no matter how pathetic, small or frail. Oh, for the world to have a heart like hers...

Peace out.

Out of a Funk and Into the Blue

2010-04-07T21:27:00.002-05:00

This is my newest obsession. I love it. It's so much fun to spend too much time in Sephora smelling waaaay too many fragrances and coming out with something fresh and new, isn't it? And the first time I wore it, someone asked me for the name of my scent and I completely forgot. That is SO ME as well...

Anyway, here's a fun little link to a blog if you are in the market for a new scent or you just like reading about them and getting some info on all that's out there. And no, this is not a paid advertisement. But, oh, how I wish to be paid in Escada!!

Do you guys like give aways? I'm not big on them here but am constantly being asked to write about this or that or to do a give away of sorts. But recently, I got an email that caught my eye and was really cool--what do you think all three of you? And no, it's not Escada, so stop salivating all over the keyboard.

A Reason To Celebrate

2010-03-30T09:02:00.002-05:00

As if we all needed one.more.reason.

But wait a minute...this doesn't make sense to me somehow. Will someone please explain it to my ass?

How We Spent Our St. Paddy's Day (and yes, beer was smuggled out that night)

2010-03-28T20:06:00.004-05:00

Two little lovelies running through Nicollet Mall before the St. Patrick's Day Parade in Minneapolis. My Nats wants a little sister and we're lucky enough to live next door to this little sweetie. *sigh* And they held hands everywhere they went.

Trampoline fun at the St. Patrick's Day Parade.

That's hella-high!

I loves me some Fairy Festivals. Fairies on Parade? Even better.

Us. (Photo courtesy of Katie.) All the reasons I live wrapped up and shoved into one photo!

I loved the expressions on these guys' faces. Gotta love men in kilts, baby.

Cute, cuter and cutest (not necessarily in that order).

Patiently waiting for candy to be thrown.

True Beauty on the Internet!

2010-03-28T10:35:00.007-05:00

Thank you to all of my friends here who leave the kindest, most supportive comments in what has been a lot of growing and learning in the past several months for me. I feel the love so much from you and the fact that anyone listens and cares amazes me every time I write. It's encouraging and cathartic and wonderful and therapeutic and all things I need in this silly, little space. Your words are like that first sip of coffee in the morning--warm and wonderful and life-giving. Thanks, guys.

Thank you to my real-life friends who have cared for me by sending an email or phone call or going on visits or outings. Knowing you are out there thinking of me makes me feel so less alone and I am truly humbled by your friendship. Some of them don't come here to read, but have been incredibly sweet by reaching out. I am so lucky and I can't believe some of you listen to my blathering drivel. I will always listen to yours. I promise.

I now know who has a genuine heart. I can't believe I'm lucky enough to know these people.
Dawn, Katie, Becky, Cathy, Diane, Jess, Samantha, Jenny. The list could go on, but these are the ones who make the effort and show me their true selves; no pretence, only beauty. I need to keep my heart open to you as well and I'm still working on that. Busting down the barriers is difficult for a person who has had them up all her life in order to protect herself. I'm learning just who I need to be protected from and who I do not.

Love to you all!! Hope to be seeing and hearing from you more soon. :)

Thursday Morning Reading, For Your Pleasure

2010-03-25T10:54:00.003-05:00

Because I could never in my wildest dreams say it this well.

Because it is SO right ON!!

Because she is Canadian and sees things from a fresh, non-biased perspective, I think.

Because I love this chick and she writes like a goddess. A very hip, cool goddess who takes some pretty damn sweet pictures too.

Please go read this. It's a completely dead-on version of the fucked-upness of an all too big portion of our country.

Tuesday Night Fever!

2010-03-10T12:07:00.004-06:00

I don't have much in the way of anything interesting for you today (do I ever???). I think the fever is back and I'm feeling like shit. My body was wrecked with shivers and the need to get WARM last night with a heating blanket on at full force. Now, I'm not the kind to have fevers, so it kind of reminds me of childhood or how my daughter feels every time she gets sick. If Girlfriend gets a stuffy nose, BAM!!--her cheeks get very pink and rosy and she's got a fever. But she's a fair little red-head, so I attribute her pathetic little dreaded affinity to that.

I awoke this morning after a bleary-eyed, unrestful night to soaked sheets and jammies and wet ringlets in my hair. I don't know what I've got, but it's very odd. A stuffy nose, aches and a damn fever. What am I? Like, a three year-old? I'd like to think my immune system is better than this. All I can think of is it must be due to stress. The old heart sure has been heavy lately, but I'm watching Gordon Ramsey and wearing my down coat indoors and it's not as bad as it could be.

My husband brought me lemonade, Tylenol, ibuprofen and a thermometer last night while rubbing my neck and putting thick, fuzzy socks on my frozen toes. I used my cell phone to call him downstairs to come up and be my little nurse-maid. He left my door open last night while he slept in the guest room just in case I needed to call for him in the night. He adjusted the temperatures on my blanket and gave me a sip of lemonade from a bendy straw. It made us both laugh how pathetic I was being; how weak and frail. That is SO not me, but sometimes it IS how I feel.

I will read this post next time he pisses me off. I will read this post next time he pisses me off. I will read this post....

A Difficult Situation

2010-03-09T11:45:00.004-06:00

A new morning routine today felt good. Pretty soon I'll be all like The Situation and stuff with abs of steel and a freakin' crazy ass tan ((virtual fist pumps)). I did me some GTD; that would be Gym, Tan, Drive. Took a little drivey-drive around the loveliness that is the fucking town of Bendover. Looked at a house I saw for sale closer to school and with more acreage and fewer neighbors (sorry, Katie), more square footage and LESS MONEY!! Didn't like it, so I moved on...

I like looking at houses even though I'm not seriously thinking of moving. I don't know why. I spend too much time on realtor.com pretending I'm in the market to buy. Hmmm. But it's fun to see what other people's houses look like. That's also why I like to watch "Hoarders" on A&E. Makes me feel like less of a crazy person too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm kinda really sad again today, but for a totally different reason. Last night around midnight, I discovered my son has been lying to me about something kind of important for like, 2 months now. I woke him up and made him get out of bed and tell me about it. I yelled a little, lectured, guilt-tripped him for all I was worth, grounded him, threatened him, took stuff away, cried a little, took some frustration out on The Man then laid awake in my bed till 2 a.m. alone and exhausted. The boy didn't apologize till the end of it all and it didn't feel genuine. He woke me up today to say good-bye before he left for school and I didn't even look at him but said, "I love you," to which he said, "What?" I repeated it again. I think he thought I was too angry and hurt to love him, or at least express it to him. I fucking love that kid with all I've got and I'm so damn hurt by him right now. Well, he said it back to me; "I love you, too." Then he left for school. I didn't even get out of bed.

Why is this all so hard? I can see down the road a little and it's only going to become more difficult to be his mom. Why do they have to make it so hard on us? ((sigh))

On Deleting

2010-03-08T12:22:00.010-06:00

I did it.

I deleted my facebook account. I am no longer a slave to joining groups, being tagged in photos, or being mass messaged by well meaning "friends". I no longer have to be the person someone assumes will like their racist or uber-conservative status because that's just not who I am. Good-bye to the days of assuming you're "in the know" when someone makes a quiet change to their profile or status and doesn't want to call to make the news known in a more civilized way. Good-bye to the coldness of it all!

The small part of it I will miss is the communication with my true friends that actually did bring some light into my life; but then there's always email, phone calls and visits, right?

I'm feeling liberated and hopeful yet down today. I cried hard for the first time in a long time over something that confuses me. I don't like to deal with pain...who does? It's easier to sleep/eat/pill-pop/talk it off than to let it flow. But I did and my husband helped me through it. I still don't know why he loves me. We're still looking for answers to all the unknowns.

Here's the plan now that I'm free and have decided to delete more negative feelings and expectations from my life: live more in the moment. Be more present. Write more. Love more. Stop trying to chase down the feeling of belonging. Be more thoughtful to those who deserve my energy and love. Make up for what is lacking and fill the holes with activity and love the best I can. Be the replacement: be everything and wish for nothing. Be more cognizant of beauty; hold it, feel it, breathe it in. Be utterly and breathlessly thankful that to three people in this world, I am everything and honor that by taking the best care of that person that I possibly can. I honestly don't know where I'd be without them and my most desperate hope is to never find out.

Deleting and coming to terms with reality bites. Hard. But you learn. And then it's good.

Pain and Positivity

2010-03-02T09:12:00.004-06:00

There's a lot of sadness in the world. A lot of bitching too. And sadly, I'm part of it.

So, here's today's "positivity", in case you're needing some...

The temperature will hover around 40 here today. People: spring is a comin'--before you know it, we will be outdoors grilling our food and drinking our beer/wine/sangria/screwdriver/hard lemonade/martinis. And the snow will be gone. Things are a lookin' up.
In this neck of the woods, we've had clear skies and sunshine for, like, 20 days now. Ahhhhhhhhh, vitamin D!
Target is open till 10:00 p.m. That, in and of itself, is always good.
If you're reading this, you have breath in your lungs. Being alive is always a good thing, no?
Education is free. Up to a point, anyway. And my kids are gone right now getting one that I don't have to pay for. And it's good.
If your heart aches for someone today, be grateful. Your capacity for love is rich and may your heart never be too full to have space for more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My heart is aching for two people today: my dad and grandmother. Those two people taught me that love can be felt and shown and that you're never too old for hugs. Two of the very few people in my life who made me know that not only did I matter, but that I was special. Yes, they had their flaws, but as a young girl who needed love, I think they were the only two who ever held me and told me that I was smart, pretty, kind and capable. The only two I miss on this day, my daddy's birthday.

Dad, I hope you're wherever you are with Grandma having that leg of lamb together today and thinking of me too. I'll remember the good if you'll remember that I love you.

Drinks and Drag Queens--Does It Get Any Better?

2010-02-27T14:52:00.003-06:00

I'm going here tonight with my bitches.

I am happy.

I have new found love for drag queens. Have you seen RuPaul's Drag Race? Oh my...makes me wish to be a queen myself. I think there's a gay man inside of me trying to get out.

I just thought about that last sentence and it's wrong in so many ways yet I love it.

Go have fun this weekend. Be sure to include some sort of liquid refreshment in your festivities too. I know I will. But not to this extent (and yes, these were the same bitches I was with that time too...uh-oh).

Peace out.

Unloading

2010-02-24T10:07:00.003-06:00

Today's theme is "Shitty stuff."

Disclaimer: I am on my period. Again. And I believe I suffer from PMDD. But that being said, my feelings here in my space are real if only sometimes inflated at this time of the month (along with my abdominal region). Thank you. Proceed.

To begin with, let me share with you the fact that my family and I have lived here in Minnesota for 2 1/2 years now. We have yet to share our new lives with most of our family and friends back in Indiana and other areas of the country. Our "new lives" are not so new anymore, but nonetheless, we want to share it with those we love maybe just once or twice in a thousand days.

See, I feel like I am constantly begging for people to come for a visit, not just for me, but for my children. This move was very difficult for us, especially for them, and I just want little pieces of love and home and family to remind them that the love won't go away just because we left our home to create a new one. I want them to have that stability, comfort and happiness that only family and friends can bring. But I feel like I shouldn't always be the one to have to go chasing after it.

It's not easy for us to travel. Remember, I have four dogs. They need care, boarding, or to travel with us. We usually pay hundreds of dollars to have them cared for in our home while we are gone. It's not cheap. And as you all know, travel is not cheap in and of itself. We usually drive the 10-12 hours (depending on traffic, weather conditions, etc.), but have flown as well. We travel with or without The Man as his work schedule and travel sometimes prohibit his companionship on these excursions. So yes, travel isn't always easy, to say the least, for this mom with two kids and four dogs! But I am constantly asked by those we love, "When are you coming? This summer? For Thanksgiving? For Christmas? Staying a week?" And all I want to say is, "When are YOU coming or are you going to help defray the cost for the $300 in-home doggie care?" Smile.

It hurts, which in turn gives me the emotion of anger. Hurt. Frustration. Confusion. Questioning, "Is it me? Have I done something wrong?" The teasing usually begins with, "Maybe we'll come up next month, on Spring Break or this summer...I really want to...for a weekend, a quick getaway..." and then the inevitable silence, avoidance or unavoidable circumstance arises which negates the entire travel plan and previous conversations. I feel the burn and regret sharing the hopeful talks of company to Nolan and Natalie. And yes, the tears come, and sometimes they don't. Sometimes, I'm not surprised. Then I go and try to see if we can fit in yet another trip to Indiana on my dime and cancel any plans we might have to try to see another part of the world in our time off.

I watch the tears well up in my daughter's eyes as she asks me if we will be going to Indiana again this summer and I tell her it's doubtful. All she wants is to see the people who feel like home to her. I do too. I'm just tired of the travel and the sacrifice being so one-sided. I can't, for the life of me, figure out why we're just not as important to so many who claim to care. We've made the journey so many times for them, the financial and precious time sacrifice but don't see it reciprocated except for our parents and my sweet little niece. Thank goodness for them; little pieces of hope in a grey world...

This is my sob story and I'm going to wallow in it for a while as I am on my period. Again. Lovely. My best time to do the Three B's: Bitch, Blather, and Blog-it. But this year, I am putting my foot down and going out to explore new places with my family that does not include Indiana this summer. I'm thinking Mt. Rushmore, De Smet, South Dakota, Split Rock Lighthouse in Duluth, International Falls, etc. and so on while freeing up my schedule for all the influx of summertime vacationers who are dying to hang with some freaking cool kids and a mother who can cook and serve up wine like a fucking bad-ass bitch. And a dad who makes silly jokes too. And four crazy, shitting dogs.

So...at this point, we are absofuckinglutely desperate for visitors. As long as you are not a registered sex offender or out on parole for something that starts with "first or second degree", consider yourself invited. I'll just lie to the kids and tell them you are long lost cousins who love us and miss us desperately.

Twitterbook Faceblog

2010-02-10T18:38:00.003-06:00

Sometimes I read other people's blogs and realize most of what I'm writing here is meaningless blather.

Sometimes I read other people's blogs and think, "Hey, at least I'm not writing about that! Jeez!" Sounds like blog-snobbery, huh?

Sometimes I am so touched by what I read, I think about it, dream about it, let it envelop me and my thoughts when, maybe, I should be thinking of something else. Like putting on deodorant or getting some of my dry cleaning done.

Then I consider taking Twitter a little more seriously. Really. 140 characters, is it? Doesn't that pretty much sum things up?

Then, I find myself a little too attached to facebook and commenting and saying things that I don't think anyone quite gets. The problem with facebook and Twitter and stuff is that you will never see a smile, get the irony or sarcasm that comes with most comments, especially mine. That is the aspect I find incredibly irritating and frustrating and it makes me want to keep my mouth (or keyboard) shut "off". You know? And sometimes I wonder if people are just fucking with me...

I think I take it all too seriously. And so do others. I need me some facebook detox, but am afraid it might be painful in a very uncomfortable sort of way. But DUDE, imagine the stuff that can be accomplished if blogging and twittering and facebooking were a thing of the past! Like a few years ago! I used to care about my house, my appearance, my life outside these four walls!

What is your vice? How are you misunderstood? What do you need to detox from?

Oh, and if you see me in my pj's on any given afternoon, please don't tell anyone. It's kinda embarrassing.
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Edited to add: I tried going computer-free....once. You can see that little experiment here.

Why Being Human Sucks Sometimes

2010-02-09T17:28:00.004-06:00

Well.

I haven't found an answer to that last question. How to deal. We just do, don't we? And I don't apologize for who I am, even if that person is a raging, hormonal, middle-aged housewife of voluptuous proportions who cooks a mean supper and bitches too much sometimes. I will only apologize for being wrong. I did. I was. And she's happy now.

She had a wonderful time at the dance with her daddy. She boogied her little feet off 'till her heels hurt so badly that she had to change her shoes for dinner. We went out to eat at a little Mexican place that has kick-ass chips and salsa and Mommy had a very nice, large margarita for dinner. And that was all. And it was good.

It helped to talk to my sister after they left for the dance. Just to hear her tell me that she has the same problems too made me feel less alone and less like shit. I have to wonder though: why are all men the same and why the fuck can't they multitask and think logically the way WE can? I have yet to meet one who has these qualities.

Ladies, thank you from the bottom of my heart for the support and kindness you show me here. I don't know why, but things haven't been easy lately and the feelings of isolation and doom are a little...no...a LOT more tolerable knowing I'm not THE ONLY ONE.

Thank you.

Gotta go get dinner started and a girl to dance class soon...The Man just walked through the door and gave me a kiss...

It's Not Really About the Pantyhose...

2010-02-05T20:20:00.004-06:00

I think I almost ruined my girl's night. The Man and I had a big fight. I feel badly, but not for him.

I'm sitting here hoping she's having a wonderful time dancing with her daddy. I wish I would have had a daddy like that. Even if he does drive me fucking crazy with his absent-mindedness, I know he loves her like no other. He loves her...

The boy is at a friend's house for a party and sleepover. The house is quiet. I was going to go to the Y, but now my Nats called and she and Daddy want to pick me up and go out to dinner after the dance...all dressed up and stuff. How could I say "No"? I love her. I owe her. I adore her. I miss her. I feel terrible for yelling at her daddy while she waited to go to the dance. I'm basically shit on the bottom of a shoe. She cried.

What to do with the anger, the resentment, the all-out bafflement (I know--is it not a word? If it's not, it should be--bafflement!) and frustration. How do you go about burying it? Forgetting it? Stuffing it down so that it's a non-issue? How do you not explode about the little things that pile up and become huge?

Sometimes love just isn't enough.

This Might Be TMI

2010-02-04T09:31:00.005-06:00

Just stopping in to say, "Hey," and let you know I appreciate all the love. You have no idea how much it helps.

The anxiety is slowly but surely subsiding and I'm feeling much, much better. Getting out of this damn house helps. I'm a slave to it and it pretty much sucks.

I've been seeing many (TOO many) doctors lately about this little problem I have--or I guess I should say problemS, but one specifically that has plagued me since my first childbirth experience over 12 years ago. Looks like, if all goes approved by insurance (or even if it doesn't), I will be getting a little procedure done to help momma not piss her pants every time the wind blows south. I can't even tell you how much I'm looking forward to having a dude up my hoo-ha fixin' my business. Shots, IV's and all. I can't WAIT!!!

The procedure is called TVT-S ("s" for "secure"--my doctor is one doing research and implementing this new procedure and I'm lucky enough to have found him; and I think he might be gay--even better! love him!!!). Anyway, if you have a strong stomach and like to see unmanicured girly bits, then go here to see some of what I'm talking about. It's all good fun...

I'm really hoping my insurance approves this procedure instead of the TVT-O procedure that everyone else it getting. Big difference, less pain, less recovery time. Did I mention that I love my doctor? I do. He rocked my bladder.

If and when I do get this procedure done, should I blog it? Sans photos of my Regina, of course; I'm not that much into sharing. Might make it all a little more fun. Who knows?

And I'm thinking of an IUD. Girls, if you have an IUD, what is your experience? Mine would be specifically for treatment of a uterine fibroid (of which I bleed myself senseless about every other month--if you check out the link--at 0:33--yes, pun intended!!). I'm curious. God knows I don't need it for birth control...

Anyway, I realize this post is a little TMI for some of you, but it's all in good fun--I promise. If your panties are in a wad, then please go get them out after clicking away to a website such as this maybe?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

All is well in the Riddle household. Mr. The Man is busy as usual at work and back to pissing me off (a sign I am getting back to my usual self), Nolan was very disappointed in his latest report card because he got a dreaded "C" in Social Studies (dude is waaaaaay to smart for that kind of bullshit) but is having a great time now that 6th grade recreational basketball has started and is pretty much every day after school till 5:00 (yay!). Nattles is her usual lovely self and has developed quite an appetite lately. Girlfriend put away a cupcake yesterday in no time and asked for a second! She's also laying dibs on the last one I bought from this place yesterday: Red Velvet. You know, I love that girl and all, but I'm not so sure she's getting the cupcake.

Knick-Knack, Panic Attack

2010-01-31T17:46:00.002-06:00

I don't really have much to say right now besides the fact that I'm glad my family made it home from Wisconsin (I didn't go...long story) and that stress, hormones, season and genetics, I think, has sent me into a tailspin of frequent anxiety attacks for the past few days. If any horrible thought can creep into my mind right now, it does or already has and there's not much I can do to make it stop. I've discussed this issue here before, the fact that I have suffered for years with depression and an anxiety disorder which is usually well controlled with medication, but sometimes the medication just isn't enough.

It's a weak and helpless feeling to be just sitting in your home watching a movie with the loves of your life and to suddenly break out in a cold sweat, heart racing, sick feeling in the pit of your stomach and some of the worst case scenarios creeping into your consciousness for no apparent reason. Makes life and just being awake unbearable at times. I feel completely weak, worthless and powerless while in the grips of a full-blown panic attack. There's nothing worse. Nothing.

Relying on medication has always felt like a weakness to me. Brain chemistry be damned, it still feels like a crutch even though I know it's a physical flaw of mine. My life seems to be the perfect storm for this situation and pulling myself out feels like clawing myself out from the bottom of a very deep well of which there is no visible light--fingers digging into the earth and sliding back down again and again...

Sorry to be a downer. Sometimes it helps to write or talk about it. But I don't really want to share the details with anyone. It's just too horrible. Only a few people in my life know what I'm talking about and one is my former therapist. And all of it is merely a figment of my imagination.

I'm tired and wanting to know that I'm not alone. I want to know someone else understands. I have a wonderful family that I love with all I've got, but they just don't know and I don't want them to know this pain. I don't want them ever to understand it.

I'm going to go get busy doing some mind-numbing stuff. I will smile, and laugh and put some laundry away and then probably take some pills that will help me fall into a fuzzy, dreamless sleep. Until then, I'll remember how lucky I really am and that things could certainly be worse.

Let's hope tomorrow is better. Take care, all...

Link-o-rama

2010-01-27T13:19:00.005-06:00

I'm obsessed with this since discovering it last night while channel surfing and lying in bed with gut-wrenching cramps. Made PMS a little more tolerable. Anyway, after you check it out, you'll probably say to yourself (because no one else is paying attention), "Dude, this is not so new." Well, I'm sadly behind the times. Always.

Enjoy your day and see you when I get back from here.

Oh, and here are some more never-ending tracks playing in my head. The theme of my life lately and another song I just love. Now that I listen to them all a little more closely, I seem to be in quite a melancholy mood, huh?

What is playing in your head these days? What is the theme song of your life? Leave us a link in the comments if you want to share.

Random-osity

2010-01-25T01:09:00.005-06:00

Two of my four-legged babies (Zoey, left; CoCo, right)

Well...

So much for peace and evolution.

2010, you have not been so kind to me. Between PMS and just all around "blah", I haven't had the initiative to post let alone be kind to my husband or even get up off my butt to exercise regularly. And my kids are running out of underwear.

As a matter of fact, I think I've become a hermit of sorts. Not the kind of hermit that grows a beard that moves on it's own due to harboring small, almost microscopic creatures within it, but the kind of hermit who never leaves the house unless milk is needed or coffee or blond-ish highlights to cover the invading grays. Living in stretchy pants and spending too much time on this blasted machine has taken over my life. And I don't really care 99% of the time if I ever socialize again amongst the living.

I've come to the conclusion that I am just happier to be myself, BY myself at home. No make-up needed...nor clothing with snaps or buttons...nor fake smiles and little white lies. None of that is necessary here where there's no one to answer to all day long except creatures of the four legg-ed kind. And they don't care how I smell or look or even if I talk to them. All they do is love me. Sweet.

Is being a hermit a bad thing? Isn't that what January is made for: depression, self-loathing and hibernation? I've got all three. I know I have a lot to offer the world, but does it have as much to offer me? Is it worth putting on make-up and walking out the door?

Maybe being too content isn't content at all. Maybe all the contentedness is messing with my mind. Did I mention that I hate January? The most fucking pitiful month of the entire year, if you ask me.

It's late and I'm rambling. I'm sorry. I've just dreamt up a thousand blog posts in my head and haven't posted any of them because it just takes too much effort. Stuff like religion, God, politics, PMS, social ignorace and fucking people who piss me off, but I have lost my blogging mojo. Lost it. I think it has gone to the same place my waistline went to about, oh, 10 years ago.

How do you get motivated? What kinds of things helped you in the past to find your mojo again? Is there a such thing as mojo or is it just a figment of the imagination, something along the lines of the G-spot? Hmmmmm....

Speaking of G-spots...well...I don't really have anything to say about that. Do you? I wish I did.

I'm sick to death of religious hoo-haaa fanatics on facebook. Is that really the place to talk religion or politics? Really? Does god want his shit posted up on your home page, ya' think? And who are you really going to impress with your proclaimation of support for tighter border controls in the US? Really? That kind of stuff makes my head hurt.

Okay...I must go to bed. Hoping tomorrow doesn't suck like I think it's going to. I actually have to leave the house and DO stuff. Ick.

12 Months of Evolution

2010-01-01T14:13:00.005-06:00

2009, you were kind to me.

You gave me some peace I hadn't known in a while, you know? I finally came to the realization that my home isn't geographic, rather the place where my husband and babies are and really where I want to be, ultimately. If they were on the moon or on top of a trash heap, I would call that place home. Thank goodness we're not living in a trash heap, but Minnesota is looking better to me all the time. You gave me that, 2009.

You also gave me adventures the likes of which I'd never known. This year I zip lined for the first time, toured Europe, took a solo trip with my sweeties, and laughed my ass off as I watched my husband from afar riding camels and circling the globe! And speaking of my husband, this was the year I think I first realized what a partner and friend he truly is. Even if he does drive me fucking nuts at times, I know that guy will make me laugh like no other in the next minute. I'm glad I still have him and that we celebrated our 15th wedding anniversary in 2009. Not too shabby...

My son grew by leaps and bounds this past year. He surpassed me in height, put on 20 lbs. (at least) and has brought me pride and joy like crazy! I've watched him form a rock band this year (rock on, Overdrive!!), fought for his education and watched him thrive in middle school as well as fighting the dreaded multiple pneumonias. This year we found wonderful doctors for him and it has made all the difference in the world. I am so incredibly thankful.

Sissy-girl has grown this year too. She's getting so tall and lovely, I can't wait to see what 2010 brings to that beauty! She spent most of the year honing her talent for art and design at the kitchen table as well as showing us her love and dedication to her sport--soccer. Watching her fly and blossom into this lovely creature has been heartbreakingly wonderful this year. She never ceases to amaze me! My little Sissy-muffin is leaving me and staring me straight in the face is a girl so full of wonderful the likes I've never seen.

2009 has also shown me some sadness and challenge as well. I found people aren't always who you think they are and they certainly will betray you or steal from you at their convenience. I learned that no one will love my babies like I do; ever. I learned that "family" is just a word to describe blood relationships but can be expanded to include those who love you more than the blood relation people do. I constantly learned this year of the narrow-mindedness of many in my life who I can only shake my head at. This year has brought many, many open ended questions of which I will never know the answers but am constantly trying to understand anyway. And I think in 2009 that I have opened my mind and heart up to the universe like never before. I am hoping 2010 will open it even more.

My plans for 2010? I don't know for sure, of course, but I'd like to be a healthy, happy mom to my family which includes some lifestyle changes and doctor visits and probably some procedures along the way to get there. I want my body to be strong and function well in order to make this life the best it can be for all of us. I want to find work or charity that inspires me and works with and for my family. In 2010 I want to discover new passions and rekindle old ones. I want peace and lots of it. I also want to continue on the path that's making home feel good right where we are, no regrets...none at all.

We'll get there. Here's to fresh starts and clarity. And, most of all, love...**clink!**

My Home Girl

2009-12-18T13:27:00.006-06:00

Photo circa 1989 by Jeff Sobel

Today, I am thankful for life.

You know, you just don't realize how precious life is until you are looking, or think you're looking, your own mortality in the face. Unfortunately in my lifetime, I've come too incredibly close to death in the way of friends' deaths which in turn has really scared the shit out of me every time a little health scare comes up.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Her name is Lora. Or was Lora. I'm never sure how to say that, because to me, she's still Lora even though she's not here on earth with us anymore. We did a lot of growing up together in middle school and high school. We had our sleepovers, talked endlessly about boys, survived break-ups and graduated high school together. She never wavered in her friendship with me and she always made me laugh. Always. Even when she was going though awful shit.

Lora moved to Tennessee with her family after high school and began living a great life in the south where she blossomed. She fell in love and then had her heart handed to her when the idiot took the engagement ring off of her finger. I listened to her cry, encouraged her that life would go on and visited her frequently even though she lived seven hours away from me. We had marathon conversations on the phone when I should have been studying and we laughed through the tears.

I became pregnant with my son in the winter of 1997 and, in the day of no text messaging, I sent her a card and told her about my great news. She was over the moon, so I was told by her mom, and only days later she died in a single car accident on her way to work.

I'll never forget the feeling of the air being sucked out of my lungs when The Man gave me the news. I had just gotten off work and was coming into the house from the back door (playing with the dogs on the way in) when he looked at me and told me that my wonderful, beautiful friend had died that morning. My life has never been the same since.

Now, every time I get into a car I must first tell my kids that I love them. I must kiss them before I leave to go ANY where. I must live every minute of my life like it may be the last because of Lora. I have to fill it with love because, honestly, that's all there is in this life: love. That's all there really is worth living for.

I attended Lora's funeral with a tiny new baby in my belly. I ached for her to know him. I prayed that the grief I carried during those days wouldn't hurt him. I talked to her and begged her to please be there when he was born.

So, I guess what I'm trying to say is that, because of Lora, I live my life in a richer way. Because of Lora, my kids never doubt my love for them and will never say, "I wish I had told her one last time...." I owe a lot to her. I think she knows. She helps me to be a better mother.

Never take life for granted. Love with all you have, every day. Realize what you have is priceless. And take care of yourself. Be safe. Say what needs to be said every moment. Do it. All of it, and everything will be fine.

Injecting, Ejecting, Interjecting, Ejaculating...

2009-12-17T09:10:00.002-06:00

Okay.

I've decided to try to write more.

I compose posts in my head and think of posting Paris photos, but nothing ever comes to fruition. I'm too busy taking kids to school, picking them up, spending too much time on facebook, doing laundry (yes, I still have dirty Paris clothes--ICK!), going to doctor appointments and the like. Time to write again. I miss it.

The past couple of weeks have been a pain in the ass--or arm, I should say. Here's the story:

I hate doctors. Hate them. Don't trust them. Don't want them fucking killing me or filling me full of pharmaceuticals. Anyway, I decided that I had better get my butt into a new doctor to get a full physical done--yes, pap schmear and all.

I was waaaaaaaay over due for a tetanus shot. I can remember back in the day when I worked a job for a living, I was told that I needed one. This was, oh, approximately 14 years ago. I refused to get it. I hate shots. Hate them. They hurt. Bad. But I sure don't mind giving them and never did. I rather enjoyed that aspect of my job.

So, I got the damn tetanus shot. Hurt like a mutherfucker. And didn't stop.

Two days later, my upper left arm was swollen up like a football player's--with shoulder pads. I had a horrible reaction to the injection and now I know it was my instinct telling me to forgo the poison.

Went back to the doctor a few days later and started an antibiotic and steroid for the pain, redness, chills and swelling that I was now suffering. All in the name of being healthy for my kids...

What a fucking mess. Not only have I now discovered that tetanus shots and me disagree, but that a certain antibiotic + steroids + lingering allergic reaction = shortness of breath + weakness + fatigue and feeling like a pile of dying shit.

I stopped all medications after a few days and now I'm feeling much better, thankyouverymuch. But my arm still hurts like a mutherfucker and it feels as if there's a small dead animal living just underneath the skin of my left upper arm...goddammit.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In other news, I had an idea.

Yes, an idea. I had one. But just one.

I've been inspired lately by the kindness of others. I know...who'd a thunk it? But sometimes people touch me in places that aren't dirty, you know? And it isn't a bad touch...

I'm going to really try to work out this new idea of mine called Blogging On A Regular Basis, or BOARB. Specifically, blogging about the people in my life who mean something to me and inspire me. I may not name them, but if they read, they will know who they are...

Today's post is about someone I haven't known for very long, but I adore her. She came into my life fairly recently, or rather, shoved her way in, and for that I am incredibly grateful. It's not easy to break me down and to get in and get to know me, but she did it with grace and forcefulness rather making me like her for her tenacity and ability to make me like her whether I wanted to or not.

This person thinks of me when no one else is. She can't hold a thought for more than a second or two, but her thoughts are truly kind, hilarious, random and superficial all at once. When I first met her I was literally awestruck by her physical beauty, specifically, her dark hair and perfect eyebrows. I remember thinking she was nice, but didn't really give it a second thought about pursuing a friendship; just seemed we were in slightly different stages in our lives and I don't always connect with people I don't immediately identify with. Anyway, she has literally thrown open the door uninvited and barged into my life and shown me a softness and vulnerability not many people are ready to show. I like her. A lot. She feels like my little sister in a place where I don't have mine. And she can throw open my door anytime...

It's good to find a little happiness here where there is such a void. And my new measurement of friendship on the "Would she leave me in Paris" scale...she measures up, fo' sho'. I know this chick would never ditch my ass in Paris. I think she's the real deal.

Thanks, girl. Thank you.

a few of my favorite photos from canterbury

2009-12-03T10:32:00.004-06:00

An actual place where a person was the subject of martyrdom: Thomas Becket, Archbishop of Canterbury, and this, inside the Canterbury Cathedral. King Henry the II of England didn't like his views, so he was assassinated here.

chills...

King Henry the IV's tomb and that of his second wife, Joan of Navarre

This one was taken outside the cathedral in one of many outdoor corridors. I loved the ceilings here with all the little details...beautiful...

Canterbury Cathedral: view from outside corridors into the courtyard where more graves existed. (We were not allowed to walk on the grass out here...)

More outdoor corridor shots... I couldn't get enough of them!

One of the most adorable sights I saw while inside the Canterbury Cathedral. There were kids on field trips everywhere and two choirs practicing as well. One of the little girls waved at me after I took this picture. Sweet!

The inside of the cathedral literally took my breath away at times.

My first sight upon entering the cathedral...*sigh*

Canterbury town square, outside the cathedral

Gorgeousness and awe: the Canterbury Cathedral

Just one last photo of The Man and me in the London Eye. I had no idea how handy this particular photo would become for me as I wade my way through some nastiness I have gotten for having an unpopular opinion

...click on it to see the message for those who are meanie-stalker/trolls!

Said It: Done!

2009-12-02T17:10:00.011-06:00

Funny story...

I posted a comment on a couple of sisters' blogs I read; well, one of the sister's blogs. Anyway, the jist of the statement I made to her was that I was disappointed to see both blogs totally sell out to advertisers. Total blog posts devoted to products (whether it be "charitable" products or not, I don't read a blog to be solicited, rather to be inspired, as both sisters' blogs used to do for me, personally speaking) and pop-up ads galore, not to mention too much religious propaganda for my own taste. Well, I told this certain blogger I was done with both blogs as they are just too "diluted" for me and that I was disappointed as I enjoyed their writings in the past. I was really bummed, but stated my opinion. Oh, and one of the said bloggers lived through a nightmare just over a year ago, as a few of us have as well in our lifetimes...

Now, my blog has gotten quite a bit of traffic as a result. Not my intention by a long shot, but don't be surprised if some weird stuff happens or you see some venom show up here 'cause these chicks have quite a cult following. And, unfortunately in blog-land, that's what I get for having an opinion that is not popular.

Also, I have gotten a couple of nasty emails telling me I am a Very Awful Person, and from people who don't even know me, which is funny. Oh, look! Here's one now!

Why would you leave such a comment?
If you are talking about the pop-ups, then clarify that! Why would you go out of your way and to such great lengths to be nasty???

It is her aunt's company. It supports African Women. It is all natural.
Even if her content was paid advertising (which it wasn't) why would you begrudge a family that has gone through so much?

I think you should post a comment to clarify whatever it was that you meant. There's enough ugliness in the world. If you can't say anything nice, then don't say anything at all.

Hope you have happy holidays. I try to remember everyone is fighting some sort of battle. Lord knows what you must be going through to make an ugly post like that and insult a family that has gone through so much. It is a miracle S. is even alive, much less struggling to live, exist, and attempt to type everyday. Diluted? SHAME on you. I'm disgusted. I hope you at least have the courage to clarify your statement or apologize. To think this is the time to spread goodwill and cheer.....lovely!

These emails: annoying? Yes. Amusing? Yes to that too. Narrow-minded? Check! Harassing? Mildly. And I won't go back to the one sister's blog to see how badly I have gotten beat up in the comments section; what's the point? I said what I thought through disappointment in these two ladies selling out, in my opinion, and I meant what I said: I'm done. 'Nuff said, right?

Here's the second email I got from the same person after a short but cordial response from moi kindly asking her to focus her energy elsewhere on something more positive. Read on!...

Hmmm....guess I am entitled to my opinion as well.

YOUR venom has wasted everyone's time and energy who bothered to comment. Amazingly, you instruct ME to use it for good, when you have wasted HUNDREDS of people's time and energy with your careless post.

I contacted you to ask you to clarify what you meant, so as to stop the further discussion and prevent anyone else from misunderstanding. I was trying to help end the discussion.

She was gracious to respond to you so eloquently. Too bad you could not reciprocate.

I'm not using their plight as an excuse, but I am positive their medical bills are in the millions over what insurance would cover. The editorial was just to help her aunt, The pop ups probably pay the bills. Hopefully neither of us will find ourselves in that position, or in the position to be judged by what we include on our personal blog...peace.

So, if you have found yourself here looking for an awful person, yup...that would be me. I'm the person who doesn't care for the sisters' blogs any longer and the one who didn't comment anonymously because I am not afraid to have an unpopular opinion and am not the troll type. You can disagree with me all you want, but I promise, I won't harass you or call you a horrible, miserable person if you have an opposing view to mine.

Now, I'm going to go cure world hunger and inoculate the masses against the H1N1 virus all the while agreeing with EVERYone about EVERYthing so as not to create a stir...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Edited to add:

If you want to discuss the virtues of said bloggers, dude...this isn't the place to do it. Also, if you want to force me to go back to the site I choose to no longer read by cutting and pasting comments and leaving them here, that's not going to work either. Nasty or underhanded anonymous comments don't get published. Have the cahunas, at least, to leave your name and the reasoning behind the comment you leave. I won't be convinced that these bloggers are the holy grail of blogs no matter the argument you present. I don't like it anymore. Period. I'm done and it's been a long time coming and a culmination of events that I chose to delete them from my reader. It's sad, really. If you want to really read something inspiring, rich, full, tasteful and astonishingly beautiful, then please go here and you'll see what I'm talking about. Tragedy doesn't have to be folded into marketing for profit and redirections to less advertised sites. This place has it down so eloquently and pure...and that is just what inspires me and makes me know true beauty...

Now, I'm going to get on with my blogging life as I have much to share with my friends regarding my recent trip and I have missed them so. If you want to be a friend, fine. If not, please click away now.

Back Where We Belong

2009-11-28T08:50:00.007-06:00

The Man and me enjoying the sights of London from inside the London Eye. The gesture is to the French.

We're back.

We arrived home Monday evening, ten days gone, and I've never felt so happy to see a runway in Minneapolis/St. Paul. I couldn't shake the urge to lick the concrete...I'll explain in a minute...

London was superb. Canterbury was quaint. Belgium? Un-be-lievable. Paris was, um, how do I say this nicely? Tres crasseux? Trou de merde--I think is more apropos. The Louvre was spectacular. The lights of the Tour d' Eiffel were magnificent at night, but the streets? Pure filth. We're talking dog-shit, homeless pissing, trash pile, sewer gas-smelly, dirty. I have never been so happy to see clean streets as I was when we landed upon the tarmac in MSP. lick, lick

I have much to tell and much to show but am still reeling right now from lack of adjustment sleep-wise. Our visitors just left us this morning and I finally feel my home and kids and life are my own again. And it feels good.

While this was indeed a wonderful trip to experience with my husband, I can't ignore the lessons learned when faced with life's everyday trials and confusion both at home and abroad. I've learned a lot about the people I was surrounded by and the ones far away as well. It was so much more than a trip; it was a journey.

To keep it short, I learned that not a person in this world will ever love my kids the way I do. Not by even a fraction. Being so busy by the whirlwind travelling was good as it kept my mind from fixating on what I was missing while away. Being exhausted and on the run was a complete blessing. I got on the plane in Amsterdam and before take-off, when it was finally an appropriate time to call home to tell my babies that Mommy was coming home, I let it all out. An overwhelming wave of love, guilt and longing for my children came pouring out of me and I cried like a lost little girl. It surprised me. It was incredible relief as the wheels left the runway.

Lying in bed with my girl that night last Monday was like coming back from the dead. I realized that I'm never so completely and wholly alive and all is never so right with the world as it is when I'm at home with my loves and in the arms of a little red-haired girl named Natalie. She shuddered and sobbed as did I, in the dark--she in her pj's from last Christmas and me in my jet-lagged, Paris-stenching clothes. We held each other so tightly and I felt her tears mix with mine on my face. I never want to leave her again. Not for so far and for so long.

After all, what does the City of Lights have over the feeling of a skinny, 9 year-old arm flung 'round your neck at 10 p.m. and the whispers of other-worldly love in the dark?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

** As I write, I am watching my sweet girl hang Christmas lights out side with her Daddy. It's one of the most wonderful sights I've seen in my life. I am also thinking about my sick boy upstairs, banished to laziness today in hopes the rest does his sore throat some good. And all is right with the world...

European Vacation

2009-11-11T12:05:00.006-06:00

A lovely late summer photo I took outside my home that has nothing to do with this post but I'm very proud of anyways.

I'm getting ready to leave for Europe. No blogging will be taking place, most likely, for a couple of weeks.

In even better news...I'm back on the bottle thanks to my Donnausonne Hungarian red wine. Good god, I love that stuff. I'm ready for drinking pints in the UK pubs, funky beer in Belgium, and wine, OH! the wine, in Paris!!! Ahhhhhh...life will be very good, very soon...

If you want to, friend me on facebook (of which I will be updating my status regularly during the trip) and I'll keep you posted as to whether or not I've fallen into the Thames in a drunken stupor and possibly posting photos of The Man and I wearing our lovely embroidered berets and fanny packs to the Eiffel Tower in Paris. (My facebook name is "Kathy Robbins Riddle")

Au revoir!

Happy Birthday to My Beautiful Girl

2009-11-05T20:25:00.006-06:00

My baby girl's birthday was yesterday and I was so busy flitting about getting everything ready for her that I didn't even post her yearly birthday post! Shameful, I know.

When it comes to my daughter, sometimes I am speechless. That's nothing short of a miracle for me as I am usually speech-full, but she's just one of those completely amazing things that has happened in my life that I don't quite understand. I'm almost afraid to be too thankful or to express my awe of her in fear that karma might just come up and smack me for being so lucky, but I have to announce to the world sometimes just how very, very much I love and adore her.

My first was a boy. A wonderful, robust, loving, challenging, astonishing little guy; I never envisioned loving something as equally. My second was something I never even knew existed: a female form of which I can never get enough. I can breathe her in and wrap my being around her and only hope someday to be just like her.

She's my hero. My hope. My joy. My Oprah (as in, "What would Oprah/Natalie do?"). My strength and weakness. She's everything good in the world and every wish I've ever made. She's the reason I question God and Heaven because being right here on Earth living life alongside her is the damn nearest thing to perfection/Nirvana a person could ever want for. I'll be pissed the day I die and end up at the pearly gates with angels singing while floating on a cloud of cupcake swirly perfection because I will have had to leave her. I will. That is, if indeed I do end up in a place that has pearly gates! HA!

So, another year has passed...all nine of them have been the most challenging and supremely sublime. I can't wait for the next and the next and the next and etc. My girl is nine. Nine! I don't ever remember nine ever being so perfectly lovely and bright.

But it is. And, to think, the rest will be even brighter...

Love Language

2009-10-26T09:20:00.008-05:00

Incredibly

Dill-weed

Your mom

Outside?

Crazy

Cereal

Bubby

Sissy

Can I?

Beautiful

Pretty

Butt-monkey

Boo-Boo

ask

homework

practice

supper

laundry

doggies

purple puffer

Mommy

Be careful

I love you

All of these are the most over-used words/phrases in my house. And I'm not saying that's a bad thing. They define us, comfort us, help us to communicate our thoughts, feelings, information and affection for each other. They are what makes us a family; albeit a somewhat goofy family.

I'd love to hear what words/phrases your family uses that bond you together, no matter how goofy they are. Please share.

Purging

2009-10-25T01:27:00.003-05:00

It still hits me every day like a ton of bricks. A little voice inside of me says,
"you don't belong here. hey, dorothy...you're not in indiana anymore."

I open my eyes and reality sets in as I look around a room that still isn't familiar to me.
"you're here. you can't go back. move forward. get a life. you have
everything to be happy about, to live for."

I try. I really, really do, but nothing changes. Maybe my heart's just not open enough. But, then again, maybe it is. I'm on the verge of tears always, just below the surface. It stings. Then it goes away. There's not enough lidocaine to numb this fucking hole in my chest, blown out by life and circumstances.
"what the hell did you leave behind anyway? an old house. family shit
that always drove you crazy? you should be glad you left that all
behind."

Well. I'm not. I'm not glad. I left behind so much more than a house, a dysfunctional family, crap. I left four people who sent early birthday cards so sincere and sweet it's just unreal. There are no people like that here. Well, wait. Maybe one.
"I let the world see who I am, but it just doesn't fit. It doesn't work. Nothing works here. NOTHING ."

I'm just sad and waiting to go home. I miss the family who doesn't share my genes; just the ones who understood me, loved me without judging no matter how stupid I got. The ones who knew my history, my babies, and loved them too. The ones who knew me and gave their kindness so freely and stood with me, mourned with me, beside me, behind me. God, I miss them... that.
"i'm still counting..."

Big Pimpin'

2009-10-22T11:33:00.004-05:00

Hey, Peeps...

If you wanna be my best friend, or not--please, please, pretty, pretty please go check this out. I just started writing on examiner.com and need some hits/subscriptions/and just a little of your time.

Bitch needs to make some money... Oh, and if I can do you any favors, please ask in the comments section. I pretty much do only menial tasks and things that might be considered shady by a portion of the population, so ask away!

I Guess Sometimes It Doesn't Get More Honest

2009-10-19T02:18:00.003-05:00

Thanks to Erin at The Mother Load for the compliment (she gave me this lovely little recognition). It took me a few days, but I'm back and ready to share. I've decided to delete just a few things here, but with the support of my sometimes pain-in-the-ass husband and a few of you loyal and awesome readers out there, I'm gonna keep on saying what I think and feel. This IS my space to do it, so thanks for reminding me of that.

SOOOO....anyway, I think I'm supposed to share ten things about myself. I'm sorry in advance if this bores you to tears, but I'll try to make it as entertaining as possible. And it will definitely be some "Honest Crap".

Oprah looked down my pants once. She was funny. I don't think many people can say that, but I can! And I let her because she was, well, OPRAH!
I've been to the Oprah show THREE times, count 'em...one, two, THREE! All right, I'll stop bragging and stuff, but not before I say that two out of the three times I had a close-up moment on camera. Okay, I'm done.
I was also on The View once back in the Star and Lisa Ling days. I wasn't actually there, just got on the show by fluke at Castleton Mall in Indiana. I had a speaking part and was totally coached by the director on how to say it. I felt like an idiot. I never saw it on air, but some of my family did.
I went on a Booze Cruise on my honeymoon in Nassau, Bahamas and got pretty drunk with The Man. I also flirted with other dudes on the Booze Cruise. I don't think The Man cared because we were drunk. And married.
If I could, I'd have 10 miniature pinschers. I love them. But they'd all have to be female. I can't stand male dogs.
I can't vacuum my house in sock feet. I must be barefoot or have shoes on. Don't ask me why. If I am in socks only, I'll usually remove them before starting even if it's 50 degrees below zero.
I met a real Mountain Man once. He lived on the side of a mountain in Hyden, Kentucky--in the heart of Hazard County. I went to his "house" and he offered me moonshine, and yes, it was in a Ball jar. I turned it down and drank beer instead.
I toured the Top Gun school in San Diego in college--the place where they filmed the movie with Tom Cruise. It was pretty cool. One of the Top Gun pilots asked me out. I said "no" because I had a boyfriend (or two) at the time. If I could go back in time and bitch-slap the hell out of myself, I would.
I used to play the bagpipes in high school. I could still do it if I had enough lung capacity to blow; it takes an enormous amount of wind to play those fuckers. And those tunes! Once you learn them, you never forget them. Sometimes I still move my fingers to the music in my head.
I've been in the middle of the Gulf of Mexico in a four person paddle boat with four people and a cooler full of beer. We saw a shark and caught a lobster and found a sandbar and I got stung by some sort of sea anemone. It's amazing that I survived my college years.

So...there ya go! If you're reading this, consider yourself tagged because, right now, I'm too lazy to do any links as it is officially 2:45 a.m., my ass is hurting from sitting here and I am cold and wanna go to bed. If you would, let us know in the comments section that you are a blogger of "Honest Scrap" and I'll come see your "10 things" post. I love finding out little-known shit about people. But, I bet Oprah never looked down your pants...

To Delete, Or Not To Delete? That Is The Question...

2009-10-15T14:56:00.004-05:00

Oops.

I think I may have over spoke and over posted and over photographed.

This blog has morphed over the past couple of years. It started out being a way to keep in touch with people we left behind by showing our new lives in a new place. It is now more of a diary of sorts. A way I have found to express myself in ways I don't generally do. There is PG-13 content, because I think it's funny and it's just a part of my inner repertoire. And I think I have more readers who know me in real life than what I thought I did. Oops.

In looking at the so-called "new" blog, what is appropriate and what is not? Would you move on to a new forum or simply hit "delete"?

I know I have offended in the past, but never have apologized for my thoughts and feelings. But the content? I've never been asked to apologize for the content which a young reader or pervert might come across. I'm thinking maybe I should? I dunno...

Is it appropriate to post pictures of my children? Their friends? What they are involved in? I'm not sure. Is it appropriate to post these in the context of my writing? I'm perplexed...

What do you think? Advice is welcome.

Putting the "ASS" in "ASSUME"

2009-10-15T10:55:00.007-05:00

Do not assume because I don't have a "real job" that I am an idiot. The village idiot, specifically. Don't presume that I have no propriety or manners or brain because I am just sitting on my ass at home all day long being a sloth and not wanting to work, hanging out with four-legged creatures who lick their nether regions.

Don't assume that I have no education, no goals, no past accolades or accomplishments. Yes, even a stay-at-home mom can leave some of that stuff behind when she wants to; has to. To many a shocker: I can string sentences together in a coherent fashion and balance a budget, I can fucking fold laundry like no body's business, but I can also pump acrid chemicals into your superior vena cava and think nothing of it all the while making sure YOU DON'T DIE ON MY ASS.

I was once RN, BSN, ACLS with the SHIT. Let me translate: that would be Registered Nurse, Bachelor of Science, Advanced Cardiac Life Support with the Superior History In Training. Okay, so I made the last one up. But, do you know how long it's been since I've so haughtily put those initials after my last name? 9 1/2 years, to be exact. And I don't miss it at all. It never defined who I was and it will never define me now. I rarely speak of it today.

Today, I stay home because I live in a place where I have no support. Zero. Nil. Nada. If my son comes down with pneumonia for the 4th time in 9 months, I must be here for him. I have no Gramma or Nana or Auntie This Or That to come care for my children at a moment's notice. His Nana would be here in, oh, say 12 hours give or take if I needed a babysitter and caretaker for him. And guess what? I also want to be here when he's sick or for when she gets off the bus exhausted and needing to talk about best friends and how they shouldn't make you feel so badly when you just want to play with another friend at recess too.

Really. I know this may shock some people, but I am capable of making Important Decisions and Pushing Papers. I have led meetings and people and units and stuff. I've also been told that I am much smarter than I give myself credit for and to quit dumbing it down so much (that was my clinical professor in college). But I kind of like dumbing it down: it's fun. And funny. And it puts on no aires. It never says, "Look at me! Look at me! I'm smarter than you and I want everyone to know it!" Dumbing it down is way underrated. But look where it's gotten me now--in a place where there are people out there who think I'm a brainless zombie stay-at-home mom waste-oid slacker. Well, there's nothing that pisses me off more than being taken for stupid.

So, here I am, professing to the world that I DO indeed have a brain, and world? Would you please stop allowing all these people to make assumptions based on my "job" or perceived low ranking on the intellect totem pole? I'm no Einstein, and don't claim to be because yes, I only scored something like 1100 on my SATs, but maybe I deserve some respect as a human being who is indeed educated and not just an inbred Hoosier who doesn't deserve to state some facts once in a while to an audience who either knows or doesn't. I don't need your "I am an educated working mom" advice on who I'm speaking to and the manner with which I should address these not-like-you educated peoples. I try to spark enough synapses to stay on top of things too, even though I'm "just a stay-at-home mom." Thank you.

Jeezus. If I ever needed some brandy in my coffee, it would be now.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Edited to add: This is what you would call a "knee-jerk" post in response to a specific stressor. And yes, I feel better and am getting a good laugh at myself right now.

All or Nothing

2009-10-08T08:58:00.007-05:00

These are my mums. I kinda like them. They make me happy.

I keep starting posts these days only to stop and delete them.

Re-hashing painful or huge mountains of garbage just seems like a waste of time and takes too much energy.

I try to come up with something funny or poignant or useful--but I have nothin' right now.

Battles are being fought. Again. And again. And it feels like it's a waste of time. It's frustrating.

When is it time to give up, take "no" for an answer? And when is it time to keep fighting the good fight even though you're making no headway? No one is listening. Nothing is changing.

And it's not just one battle. It's many and it's tiring, wearing me thin. I'm not doing the good that I can be because I'm just.tired.

Maybe it's the lack of wine flowing through my veins as of late. I sipped the other night while cooking, but since the freaking barf-o-rama episode, wine just lost is appeal. Still. How sad.

Bright spots remain. I cuddled with Natalie today before school. I smelled her hair, breathed her scent deeply into my soul and felt grateful. I sat with my boy before he left for school, arm around his broad shoulders, and told him I loved him as I looked into his impossibly brown eyes. We stood, kissed good-bye, and his lips touched just above mine as he kissed me under my nose. It was cute. God, I love him. Her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Another bright spot: I'm going to Europe soon!! Yes!! This will be the first time ever for me and I couldn't be more excited and anxious at the thought of leaving those two bright spots behind. I've never been away from them for more than, oh, six days. We'll be gone, very, very gone, for 13 days. It's a little daunting, but I'm sure it will be good. Travelling to London, Canterbury, Brussels and hopefully a stop in Paris. There will be many photos to come, guaranteed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Just typing this makes me see that perspective is so subjective.

I'm getting it.

This One's For My Boy

2009-10-01T07:00:00.003-05:00

Today is my boy's birthday.

He is 12 years old today. I can't believe I just typed those numbers: 12. It just can't be.

Every year, on their birthdays, I write to/for them. Today I will do the same. It just feels right, whether they ever read this or not, to write for them. Today, for him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Nolan-boy. My Bubby-boo-boo. My Bubba-wubba,

I love you. I love YOU. I LOVE you. I LOVE YOU!! I can never type these posts on your birthday without tears and pride and completely overwhelming, humbling, incredible emotion in my chest that swells with each word I type.

Today you're 12. You're growing up. But you'll always be My Boy, won't you? We will always have a special bond--do you know why? You probably do, but I'm going to tell you anyway. You and me? We're two peas in a pod. We think alike. We talk alike. We act alike. We look alike (I know you didn't want to hear that). We love alike. We laugh at the same goofy stuff (like the "Crap Store Buffet"!). But being alike isn't always easy either.

Sometimes we disagree. Sometimes you make me angry and vice versa, huh? Sometimes I see too much of me in you and I push you, maybe a little too hard, to do better; be better; work harder; to achieve more. I'm sorry if I push too hard. I just want what's best for you. Always. Always.

You're insanely bright, incredibly handsome; irresistible even. You are the most loving, caring, sweet-hearted boy I've ever known. Your love runs deep, strong and true. I think that's what I love most about you. No, I know it is.

This year has been difficult for you. I hate your asthma with a passion that I've never hated anything before in my life. Nolan, I stay awake at night, think of you every minute when you're sick and I beg the universe to give me your asthma; give me your sickness. I truly, utterly hate it when you're sick. It makes me furious. But Baby, I'll take care of you. I will. I will be with you, feed you, give you your medicine, find the best doctors in the land for you. I'll spoil you too, you know--with all the TV, video games and movies you want when you're sick. And I'll make all the ramen noodles you want, too. We'll get through it together. I promise.

This past year wasn't all bad though, that's for sure. This year you surpassed your Mommy in height, didn't you (although, that wasn't very hard, was it?)? It's so strange when I catch a reflection of us together and I see this young man standing next to me who I don't immediately recognize. It's weird. I can't believe it's us! You're so amazingly handsome, tall, strong. I feel so safe and taken care of when you carry and lift things for me now. And so loved. Thank you for that, sweet boy. You are my life's destiny, my reason to be alive, the very essence of my soul--you and my love for you.

I'm looking forward to this upcoming year with you. I love seeing you take off, so self-assured, brave, not afraid of anything, ready to conquer whatever crosses your path. And you'll do it, for sure. I can't wait to see where we are one year from now when you turn 13. Just quit bugging the shit out of me to watch PG-13 movies, will ya? I'll kick your ask.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

~Mommy

I Love Unicorns: A Post In Blog Highjacking

2009-09-30T10:30:00.003-05:00

I just found this, Kristy. You rat-ass little sister, you. You thought you published this back in July, didn't you? Well, here you go. I'm publishing it now, just for you. I'll even add a little unicorn picture just to make it more special. Notice the rainbow in the background? Well, that's the closest I could get to having a rainbow shoot out of the unicorn's ass and yeah, that's Obama riding the unicorn. I'm going to kick your ask next time I see you then I'll highjack YOUR blog and maybe even wake up Addison from a nap or something fun like that!

The following is a what my rat-ass sister tried to post on my blog back on July 4th while I was visiting her in Indiana. Apparently, I left the computer on and my dashboard up, and she high jacked me but forgot to hit "publish post".

Enjoy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi Everyone! Happy 4th of July! I have had a fabulous day in Indiana! I was
in my sisters backyard when I spotted my very favorite mythical creature-YES
A UNICORN!!!!!!!!! It smiled at me then rainbows shot out its ass. It was
AWESOME!
~Kristy Speelman (a.k.a. my rat-ass sister, posing as me, Kathy, a.k.a. the brilliant and prettier sister and author of this blog.)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

P.S. If you would, dear readers, please go visit my sister here. Leave a comment on her
latest post and tell her that her sister says she's a rat-ass. And maybe tell
her too that unicorns don't actually shoot rainbows out of their ASSES, but
specifically, the spectrum originates from the rectum. Thanks!!

You Might Not Want To Read This Post If You Have A Weak Stomach Or Get Offended By Overconsumption Of 30-Something Mothers

2009-09-27T20:13:00.006-05:00

I got drunk Friday night.

Shit-faced, word-slurring, fuck-me-I'm-so-damn-hot-in-my-spankx, barf-o-rama, black-out drunk.

How old am I? Like, pushing 40? HARD?! I have no business getting drunk on Friday night. Not like that.

You know what The Man said to me the next day after having taken care of me while I spontaneously barfed and rapid-fire shit myself senseless (as I awoke with a possible brain aneurysm and found shit in my drawers)? He said, "What? Do you think you're 23 or something?"

Fuck-you-very-much, Man. Just remind my ass that I can't take these sort of young whipper-snapper antics any longer. But aren't I sexy in my shit-laced panties and eyeliner down to my nostrils? Not to mention how cute I make red chunks of vomit look stuck between my two front teeth...ahhhh...nothing says "I married a real gem" like those charateristics do, huh, Honey?

Have you ever barfed so hard that it came out your nose? I'm not sure, but I think I did. Sorry if that grosses you out, but that was a new one for me.

Here's what my dumb-ass drank that night: (1) Raspberry/champagne mixture thingy, (1) cheap-o glass of white zinfandel, (2) appletinis and (2) **gulp** shots of cheap tequila. Oh. god.

The entire Saturday was spent begging the Powers That Be to not let me barf again. And eating Excedrin/Tylenol/Diprovan/Fentanyl and sipping ice water and keeping a nice, cold, wet washcloth on the throbbing orb that was my head.

I can't do this anymore. I've sworn off tequila at least twice in my lifetime. What is it that makes me come back to you, you mistress, you Tequila? Is it your lovely fragrance of unwashed butt or the acrid burn you give me going down AND coming back up? I can't fathom what made doing shots of tequila sound like a good idea at the time. But for some reason it did. And for some reason, I did it.

Other things I've sworn off of and it actually stuck:

Southern Comfort (lovingly referred to as "Robo" by The Man and me)
Wild Turkey
Any beer ending with the word "Ice"
Micro or home brewed beer
Weight Watcher's anything
Giving blow jobs

Now, you'd think tequila would be easy to keep on that list...right? But for some reason, it keeps sneaking back into my drinking repertoire. I don't know why. It never ends up pretty.

I'm going to go now. I'm feeling queasy.

Yeah, you guessed it...there will be NO drink of the day this time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Have any good drinking stories you'd like to share? I'd love to hear them so I don't feel like such an ass.

Fruity Stuff

2009-09-21T18:43:00.006-05:00

photo by the wonderful Liz West

I don't feel like making supper tonight.

I like to drink my supper. If ya' know what I mean...

I had a snack today that rocked. I must share: Greek honey yogurt, fresh raspberries and Quaker Oat Squares ("touch of cinnamon" flavor) nestled on top of it all. No wonder I'm not hungry.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Drink of the day: A Little Dinghy (just because)...

2 shots Captain Morgan Parrot Bay coconut rum

2 shots Malibu coconut rum

orange juice

cranberry juice

pineapple juice

Fill tall glass with ice, add shots of rum, top with equal parts orange, cranberry and pineapple juices. Garnish with pineapple and orange slices and umbrella. A little one.

Pieces.

2009-09-17T09:33:00.008-05:00

Meet Co Co.

Photographed by Nolan

I've been thinking of many topics for a new post, but don't have a lot to say, but a lot of things to say about different stuff.

I just got back from walking my girl to the bus stop. It's just across the street, kind of caddy-corner to our house. Our neighborhood is full of construction traffic and I just don't feel right sending her out there alone. Besides, Co Co wants to take a walk now every morning and the walk is just enough for her short legs and chubby little body (hmmmm...Coco? Or Me?). My girl is in 3rd grade this year, but now she goes it alone every morning: big brother is in middle school this year and leaves us every morning at 7:30 on bike, with helmet-- a whole hour before she catches the bus. I can't let her go alone...not yet. I am amazed how others in the 'hood can let their not-even 6 year old go wandering the neighborhood amidst all the cement trucks, dump trucks, big white speeding vans full of tile or carpet or who knows what and endless streams of vehicles speeding in and out to a job here or there. Not to mention we don't even know the criminal background of any of these workers, right? There could have been a fatality yesterday with an unchaperoned child darting out into the street. A minivan stopped--hard--right after the bus pulled away. Where the hell was mom? Why was this child alone to with no idea of how to navigate the street properly? I was not watching her. Neither were any of the other moms out there. We were all preoccupied with our own. And I'm not the fucking nanny and neither are any of the other moms standing there unless you've made a prior arrangement with one of us ahead of time to watch your child. Pull your head out of your ass, for christ's sake!

If you couldn't tell...this is one of my pet peeves. And no child deserves a stupid-ass mother.

Not that I'm perfect. In fact, I'm so far from it that it hurts sometimes. But one thing I will never do is compromise the safety of my child. What the fuckity-fuck in the world is more important than the life of your child? If you can tell me, I'll give you a million dollars. Cold, hard cash. I will.

I have some venom in me that is aching to get out. I can let it out here. That's what I like about this blogging thing. Go ahead and judge me, but it feels good. My husband shouldn't be the only one to have to listen to my outbursts.

My boy is home sick today. Damn asthma. It fucking sucks all to hell. I wouldn't be surprised if it's pneumonia. Again. I want to cry. I want to rip it out of his chest and help him to breathe easier, like I do. Give him the peace I have and take for granted. We all take breathing for granted. But once that ease is seized up in spasms and mucous and overreactiveness it's all you can think about. And wish for.

I told you there was a lot on my mind. You were forewarned. And, unfortunately, this is all just the tip of the iceberg.

I feel constantly in the pitch of a ship on turbulent waters. I don't know where I'm going to be thrown next in the storm inside my own mind. What am I doing here? Is it enough? I'll go crazy if I have to think of another thing or chore to finish, another phone call to make. Am I making enough of a dent in this world to matter? Is there more than this? Should I be doing MORE?? I'm thrown overboard when I'm not expecting it. He throws me a life line. He pulls me back in and I am saved. I appreciate again the fact that I'm just here--living, breathing, giving, loving.

It is enough.

Uh Oh

2009-09-14T10:36:00.000-05:00

Uh Oh

I had to share this. It made me laugh. HARD. And I cried a little too.
Enjoy, and happy Monday, y'all.

The Blues

2009-09-10T09:31:00.004-05:00

It's coming back.

"Back to square one," is the thought that keeps running through my head. Back to the feeling of not belonging here, of being on the "outs", being the ONE who doesn't get the invitation, the smile, the conversation, no matter what my vibe I'm putting out there is. I'm polite, maybe too much, and always try my best to include everyone, wait my turn, bide my time, but why do I feel I'm the only one conforming to these proprieties?

Ouch. It's high school. Again.

I even see it with the mister too. In a group setting, he's the one standing there, smiling, waiting to join in at a moment that never comes. My heart breaks. I know this feeling too well. And I know it also from the other side. I've been the entire spectrum on the social rainbow which is why I know it's intentional. And not very nice.

Sometimes the urge to be a recluse is overwhelming and sometimes I let that urge control my life. And sometimes it's good. No one to speak too much, to offend, let me down or make me feel uncomfortable. No one to impress, or not; no one to exclude or to give the, "Oh, who are you? Kathy Riddle? Daughter of the town drunk"-pariah look. Quiet, except for the clickety-clack of my keyboard, the white noise of the dryer, the anthem of regular television shows to keep me even and occupied and feeling less alone.

Why it hurts so badly is another post or fodder for a really good psychiatric analysis. Doesn't make the lump in my throat or the G.I. Joe daggers in my chest any less to know it's a useless feeling, all this. It's human, I guess. I don't know if they ever feel it too, or if they are immune to it. Sometimes I think I can totally subsist on the company of my husband and children alone, but then the realization that interaction with the world is not only an option, but a necessity. Damn. A necessity that, honestly...I think I could be very happy living without. In a cabin, in the remote wilderness, with indoor plumbing and a very large wine storage barn -- and firewood piled up to the ceiling. Heaven.

Does a place like that exist and if it does, can I go?

I think I'll go do laundry and put on some makeup.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Drink of the Day: The Blue MOTHERfucker***

Mix equal parts lemon vodka, sweet and sour mix, and blue curacao liqueur in a shaker with crushed ice. Pour into a highball glass and down that motherfucker. Mmmmm...go ahead...have another.

***Not guaranteed to take away the blues, but after consuming approximately 4 of them, might help.

Just One More Unnecessary Reason To Have A Drink Tonight

2009-09-06T20:49:00.004-05:00

Feeling lonely tonight, even with a house full of my family...dogs...even my mom is here from Indiana. Feeling broadsided and listening to Malcom in the Middle's theme song, "Life isn't Fair." Things aren't always what they seem. Little daggers prod at my heart. Tears are begging me to spill them, but I won't. I am reminded of what I've lost and feel as though nothing has been gained. Poor me. I don't know why I care.

Well. Enough of that.

I made a really good drink tonight, although it wasn't nearly strong enough, but tasty as all get-out. I think I'll call it the "Mommy's Almost Out of Vodka Appletini"~

1 shot vodka (if there's enough for one shot-make do with what you have)
A coupla splashes of vermouth (extra dry)
2 shots appletini mix
1 can diet sierra mist
Ice
Sugar
Green food coloring

Pour your last bit of vodka into a shaker-you know, the last little bit you left in the bottom of the jug because you passed out on the couch before you had a chance to polish it off. Now, throw in the appletini mix and vermouth and add ice. As always, shake the hell out of it to mix well, but try not to look at your floppy boobies while doing it all the while wondering if you'll ever get that lift and augmentation you deserve after breastfeeding two children for what seemed like eternity. Okay. Before you go pouring your lovely concoction into the readily awaiting martini glass, take your sugar and mix in a small bowl with the green food coloring. What we're doing here is trying to be fancy, so shut up and do it. Moisten the rim (hahahahehehoho-I just said, "moisten" and "rim" all in one sentence!!)of the martini glass with water, lime, lemon, astroglide or whatever the hell you have available that is wet. Dip glass in sugar, pour contents of shaker into anxiously awaiting glass till a little more than half full, 'cuz I'm just a "half-full" kinda gal, aren't I? (yeah, right) Now, top that off with sierra mist and suck that baby down. Repeat until gone, then cry because the liquor store is closed on Sundays and holidays and now your glass is empty and life sucks all to hell when you live in Minnesota and the liquor stores suck and everything pretty much sucks.

And don't forget to make a special trip to the liquor store on Tuesday for more vodka, dumbass. (That would be me, not you-I like you...I really do!)

New Shoes.

2009-08-26T01:33:00.006-05:00

Nolan-boy playing in his garage band, "Overdrive" (yes, that's the name of the band!). Note the grubby, old shoes on his feet.

That last post was funky...sorry 'bout that.

I wanted to thank you all for the words of praise, again, in my post about my rat-ass son and me making him take the sweet mutha Nikes back to the store when he was behaving badly toward his sister. You guys...it freakin' worked, I swear! He has never gone this long in his 11 and 11/12ths years without totally treating his sister like a dog turd-EVER! I think it finally got through his thick, pre-pubescent skull that he just.can't.do.it. Can't. Boys are dumb, aren't they?

Well, the boy got a new pair of shoes tonight. This time, they were sweet mutha Under Armours; after all, it IS football season. And he has been a pretty good boy over all since the shoe-return fiasco. And his toes were sticking out of his old shoes. Kid has big feet. 9 1/2 and he's not even 12 years old yet. Good God...

I love him. I really do. I'm getting prepared for the worst of it though. I thought the baby, toddler, preschool years were tough with him, but the teenager in him is coming through already and I can see how we are going to butt heads...a lot. But through it all, I love that guy. He's such a big part of me, my soul. I'm tough on him because I see so much of myself in him and well, I'm not so easy on me either. I'm asking the universe for strength to make it through these next 7 years with him. I've got to be there and be strong- for him. 'Cause it's really not about me.

That's all I want.

The Rain

2009-08-19T21:56:00.002-05:00

The rain came down like nothing I'd seen in a long, long time today. Came down in sheets, blankets, skies grey and passive and full.

I'm confused. I don't know. I don't care. Sometimes I think I've given up. Then she melts me again and reminds me why I'm alive.

And the rain.came.down.

He haunts me. He pulls me in and leaves me all at once. My heart bears the scars and beats to the rhythm of his words. His words. Just words. Nothing else.

Pouring, pooling rain. Pounding. Cutting. Relentless.

I feel controlled and at the mercy of it all when in my own hands the key resides. Master of none, yet able to gain entrance to the secret that lies within. The power escapes me for a time as my hand fumbles and drops, all too much to bear.

Push. Broke open and raw, feeling the wind, the rain, the burn all at once, I push through.

Rain so hard, I forget to shut my eyes and the world becomes a blur.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Malbec, Luigi Borsca Reserva, Argentina, 2006 ~ Drink of the Friggin' Day

This Post Brought To You By Sterling Vinter's Collection Chardonnay 1997 (Which, Ironically, Was The Year My Son Was Born)

2009-08-08T19:49:00.004-05:00

I write better when I'm drunk.

Or depressed. Or have nothing in particular to say just saying whatever comes off the top of my head.

I've had a lot of chardonnay tonight, by the way. But I don't think it's going to help me any with the "writing something interesting" stuff...

My dog is making squeaking noises kind of reminicent of a squeegee. I know; who cares?

I ate fried chicken tonight; home-made thankyouverymuch. Burt the fuck out of my arm. God dammit...

I'm nosy. I like to snoop. I like to invade someone's personal stuff sometimes, but not the people I like. Is that normal?

I've been letting a post brew in my head for about a month now about fatal flaws. Nolan has been reading Greek mythology and has got me thinking. But I don't read that shit any more. Did it in college and high school and don't really wish to revisit it. Maybe some day, I dunno. My favorite god is Bacchus (aka: Dionysus), of course...

I have forgotten so much shit from college now that I fear I can never go back to society and function well. I don't think anyone who has any sense would hire me for anything if they wanted to have a successful business. Yeah. These are things I think about...

I noticed today I have 40 followers. Cool. I can't believe 40 people like what I type up on the screen here. It is amazing to me. Oh, and by the way...I think all 40 of you ROCK like no other. And thank you!

I've also been noticing lately that I no longer post sweet, sappy love-posts about my children. Oops. Honestly? They've been bugging the fuck out of me this summer. Honestly? It's not always fucking flowers and bunnies being the parent of an 11 year-old who thinks he rotates the world and an 8 year-old who has serious food and confidence issues. I want to take up smoking again.

You wanna hear something funny/awful? I can't believe I did this to my son, but I did: just an example of the wonderful summer we've been having...

When we were in Madison the other day, we were at a local shopping mall and I decided to purchase him some sweet mutha Nikes and a fucking awesome backpack from a popular sports store. I spent a fucking wad on him. He was grateful for, like, five minutes.

Then he pissed me off the next day. Treats his sister like garbage, again, for like the twentieth time in 24 hours. I wanted to kick his ass, but instead, I made him take off the shoes and re-applied the tag to the backpack, hauled our asses to the popular sports store and made him carry his shit up to the check-out to return it. Yep...I did. It felt awful, but that's what I did. I told him he can't treat his sister like dog-poop and get cool stuff at the same time. He cried a little and begged me not to do it. I did it. I think I felt a tear or two myself. But guess what? He's been nothing but NICEY MR. NICE-NICE to his sister ever since. It worked, I think, and maybe we're better for it. Spoiled mutherfucking brat...

No...really...I love them. I do. It's so exhausting sometimes being Mom.

But I can't think of anything else in the world I'd rather exhaust myself with.

If I Get the Chance to See My Family, Then I Wanna Go**

2009-08-04T13:08:00.005-05:00

We will be heading off to Madison, Wisconsin tomorrow to see my brilliant niece, Jessica, and sister-in-law, Tonya, as Jess officially accepts a scholarship from her workplace in a fancy-dancy ceremony. Girl is brilliant: she deserves at least 10 of those scholarships, if you ask me.

Ask anyone and they will tell you: Jess takes after her Aunt Kathy, of course...and I'm not biased or anything, really... :)

Anyone been to Madison and have dinner suggestions?

**What Natalie said to me, eyes filling with tears, chin quivering, when presented with the possibility of not going to Wisconsin tomorrow.

2009-08-03T13:59:00.003-05:00

Questions? Comments? Please, don't be shy...

If You Don't Enjoy Full-On Bitching, Then You're In The Wrong Place

2009-08-01T12:13:00.003-05:00

I need to complain a bit. I hope you don't mind.

My photos are not where they are supposed to be. I wanted to show you all the beauty that is my daughter and our trip to Walnut Grove (why yes, the Walnut Grove from "Little House on the Prairie" fame), but I cannot due to this wonky computer and my laptop being stolen over a month ago. See...my laptop did everything right. He never lost my photos. He always put them in the right places. This evil machine sucks and likes to fuck wit' me and hide my beautious photos. You SUCK, Wonky Computer...

Next on my bitch list are my children. No, see, I love them, I do, but dammitalltohell, I've spent entirely too much time with them this summer. Something like 'every waking moment'-it's just a bit too much for me. I'm cranky and saying more naughty words than usual. I think I'll go shopping...

And, can I tell you, that beautiful daughter 'o mine is getting a little bit too opinionated? I found the most lovely rug from Pottery Barn Teen to put in her equally as lovely room and she totally dissed me and pouted and said she didn't like it. But it's the perfect rug! "It has pink in it," she said to me. Well, fuck me. I can't even pick out a proper rug in a proper way. I guess I'll go sit in a corner, bite my toenails and cry. Jeeez-us!

I have some serious bloating going on. WTF? I think I'm in perimenopause because Oprah told me so. PMS all month long is not fun. Especially when I'm spending too much time with my brat...er...I mean...kids.

I'll stop now. I hate to bore you with my petty bitchiness. But, I'd like to know, what's on your bitch-list this summer?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Drink of the Day (because boy, does Momma need one...): The Peri-Menopause-tini

Mix in a shaker:
One part vodka
One part Hot Sex
A dash of Hot Damn!
Crushed Ice

Shake it up, pour into martini glass and get pissed, people. And try not to take it out on your husband and kids...

If Facebook is the Devil Then I'm Goin' to Hell

2009-07-21T23:02:00.004-05:00

Just wanted to say "hello" to my peeps. Yes, we're still here and I swear, I'm being swallowed alive by facebook. Or should I say farkle on facebook?

Go to facebook and be my friend, won't you? I've got cool stuff to blog about later, but right now, I hear facebook calling me ever so sweetly...

Kathy....K a t h y....come back, darling....you've been away too long....11 minutes and 45 seconds....come baaaaaaack!

Gotta go. Here's a quick cocktail recipe for ya-

Drink of the Day: The Facebook-tini

Step one: run away from the computer and grab the first glass you see. Hopefully, it's a martini glass, but any cocktail glass will do. Or even a sippy cup, for that matter.

Step two: raid the liquor cabinet or your fridge for the best vodka you got. Mommy likes her Grey Goose!

Step three: pour vodka in cup/glass/rinsed out coffee mug if that's all you got handy...

Step four: find some juice, fast, and get back to your computer 'cuz someone's trying to chat with you. Orange juice, pomegranate juice, black currant cranberry juice, clamato juice...pretty much anything will do at this point. Just give the glass a few glugs.

Step five: if you have time between farkle games, slice yourself some lime wedges and squeeze one in. Lime juice makes everything better. And the citric acid on your fingers will clean off your keyboard and freshen things up a bit.

There. All better. Now, see you at facebook, bitches.

**I'm 'Kathy Robbins Riddle' on FB...come see me!

Hello? Is This Thing On?

2009-07-09T22:14:00.003-05:00

Thanks to all of you for the "YOU GO, GIRL!" and "You poor thang!" comments on my last post. My pity party is over for now; well-at least for a few minutes anyway...

The Man has been out of town for too many days and is returning early; a whole DAY early, that is. He missed us. And we, him. It will be good to have him back.

Nothing else has been stolen from our home in the days since my last post. I guess that can of whoop-ass I opened up on those skanky whipper snappers worked. Don't mess with me and my home or I will cutt-chu. Hear?!

I have deep thoughts to share on my trip to Indiana except that I am unable to conjure them up at the moment due to my throbbing neck glands, swollen throat and oozing, infected right ear. Damn viruses and bad cabin pressure on airplanes!! Givin' me writer's block an' shit...

I do have to say that I appreciate home so much more now than I did a couple of weeks ago. Home. My Minnesota home. There's nothing quite like a comfy house with comfy kids and a comfy husband and four comfy dogs. It's just so...well...you know; comfy. I like that word comfy. Do you like it? Never mind.

I've officially taken 4 ibuprofen, 2 extra strength Tylenol, and one little lavender Mommy-is-really-nice-and-happy pill for the evening and I see a cup 'o Robo in my future before I hit the sack. Dammit all to hell, I forgot the NyQuil when I was at CVS today...

Give me a knock 'em out cocktail recipe for a sick mutha--would 'ja? Something nice, preferably warm or very, very cold as that feels extra nice on the throat right now. And preferably something that will make Momma sleep real nice-like at night. Please? I'll even give extra credit if you make me one and bring it over yourself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

P.S. The kids and I have just discovered Malcom in the Middle. What was I thinking by not watching this show when it was actually in production???? It's f-ing FUNNY and Dewy rocks my world!!

Stolen

2009-06-20T02:30:00.008-05:00

Monday, we were robbed. And today, we were almost robbed again.

Someone broke into our home in the whole two hours we were gone and took my laptop, my son's PSP and my husband's ipod. There was no sign of forced entry and we were baffled, angry, unsettled.

This week has been a barrage of phone calls, security planning and refusing to leave the house if not completely and unequivocally necessary.

I took my daughter to a play date this afternoon then came home to spend time alone with my son and to have lunch. Nolan is getting sick again, but we now have an action plan to keep up with his rebellious lungs, thanks to the recent visit with Dr. P-our pediatric pulmonologist. But our time was not carefree and conducive to momma/boy bonding: instead, it was fraught with worries of asthma and pneumonia and allergies and the like; the breach of our security momentarily forgotten.

I decided to let Nolan go to a friend's house for the afternoon and catch a little time for myself at home. We piled into the car not remiss about the fact that we were being stared down from across the street by two ominous, lurking, sloppy, tattooed, twenty-somethings in a pickup truck. Skipped heartbeat. Intuition firing off at breakneck speed. Get. him. to. his. friend's. house. Then. go. home. QUICK!

Upon reaching my street and turning into the neighborhood, I immediately see my home with two wide-open garage doors and a black pickup truck parked now at the end of my drive way- I had caught them! They had no idea I'd be gone for a mere 5 minutes.

A call to The Man. A call to 911.

Stay on the line. Don't put yourself in danger. Stay in your car. You don't have to follow them...

...should I stay on the line? I'm so scared! When are they going to be here? I'm following them; they're driving around the neighborhood. I'm NOT letting them leave!

...what street are they on now? Heading east? Yes, they are on their way...

...one of them is getting out of the truck and coming toward me. Should I talk to him? Tattoos...his forearms are covered in tattoos. He's about 21? Thin, white, with short hair. I'm only going to roll the window down a little...

...It's okay; stay calm-help is coming.

...black truck, GMC Sonoma. Two while males. I'm following them. They think they can get out of the neighborhood, but I've got them blocked...

The first police car arrived and I've never felt more saved. I thanked the 911 dispatcher many times as I sobbed, all the adrenaline flowing out of my body through the tears. I didn't know what would happen as that person approached my car. All I could think was how glad I was for the kids having play dates today. Thank God, Mohammad, Buddha, Allah, Mother Earth and the universe for small, small favors.

The next po-po car came, sirens blaring, lights flashing, then another and another. I never felt so rescued. Ever.

My sheriff's deputy had an army bracelet on his left wrist. I hardly heard a word he said, but I answered his questions at the end of my driveway and stared at his wrist along with his unbelievably young face. And yes, he was tall. And handsome. I DO remember that. I felt an overwhelming urge to touch the bracelet but thought better of it when it seemed a little too close to his gun. Wouldn't want him to think I was going for it. Might pop a cap in my ass for that one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Everything's gonna be okay. The Man is here to protect me now. My garage doors now will not open without an act of God. Doors, windows-all but barred. Kids? Fine. My boy called me immediately after the cars dissipated from the neighborhood.
Hello?
Mommy? Are you okay?
Yeah, Honey. I'm fine. Are you okay?
Yeah. I was worried about you. I asked T.'s mom if I could call.
I'm fine, Baby. Just fine. Everything's okay.
I love you.
I love you too, Bubby. Bye-bye.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'm still the luckiest chick/mommy in the world.

For You

2009-06-10T11:00:00.008-05:00

Love doesn't hurt.

It doesn't belittle, ridicule, abuse or control.

It's your soft place to fall when you're weary and lost.

It's warm, comfortable, peaceful, serene.

Love has no conditions; no boundaries.

No limits or selfish ties.

Truth and solace can be found within;

Purpose and meaning.

Love is letting go and trusting

And knowing

And giving everything residing within you that's good.

The only selfish thing about love is

Enjoying the feeling it gives you

And hoping it lasts until you are very, very old

And no longer drawing breath.

Love and knowing how to love

Are two different things.

And the word is used and misused

All too often.

Love isn't angry,

Or bitter,

Or hurtful,

Or boastful

Or a source of misery.

I'm telling you-

It's none of those things.

It's wanting to give joy-

And lighting up at the sight of it.

I never knew this kind of love

It never existed in my home

Or my life

Until I found it with him

And helped it to grow

Again

Then, again.

I want to live my life

To give no limits to my children

In their beautiful, beautiful flights.

So, please know that

Love never

Feels bad.

If you think it does

Or has to-

Then it's not really love you are living.

Thank you Nolan, Natalie, Greg

For teaching me this-

What I know for sure.

These Are the Reasons I'm Not Blogging Much Lately...

2009-06-09T09:45:00.005-05:00

Ahhh...my dear, sweet friend, red wine. Most often we spend time together while cooking--you are a wonderful partner to my culinary escapades....

Or I am off to school watching things like this happen. And lucky enough to capture it on camera...

And on an all-too-rare occasion we have a pleasantly mild June morning and I find myself out here drinking coffee and missing my kiddies (and the elderly neighbor horse) instead of blogging!

Sometimes I talk with the kids next door--they often find friends like these and give them a little TOO much love...

So, there you have it. Maybe blogging would be more of a priority if it caused spontaneous breast enhancement or rid me of my ever increasing wrinkling and leaking and squishiness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Drink of the Day: Donausonne Blaufrankisch Red Wine from Hungary

You MUST try this wine if you are not usually a red wine drinker! I swore off red wine a long time ago due to suffering many a migraine after partaking. This wine is so soft and smooth and a little bit sweet, but not overly so. Cost is around $11.00 a bottle. You can chill it, unlike most reds, and it goes well with pretty much anything...or even alone. And it will be your best friend if you move away from all of yours to a godforsaken land of ticks and snow and cold and pine trees and hockey...

Um, yeah. It's really good. Really.

Today, In 20 Questions and the All Too Often Overlooked Drink of the Day

2009-06-01T20:50:00.006-05:00

Is it 8:00 already?

Is it 8:07 already?

Is it 8:14 already? (Yes, I have a well worn snooze button.)

Why does my girl have her jammie shirt on one arm only, backwards and upside down?

Nolan...are you in the shower yet?

Why the hell did the dog shit in the kitchen???!!!

Ahhh...could coffee taste any better?

She said what to you?

What did you say to her?

Did that hurt your feelings?

Did you forget your tadpole permission slip and empty container?

Did you brush your teeth?

Do you know how much I love you?

Who do I need to talk to in order to resolve this issue?

Can you believe that mutherf*cking kid said that to our Sissy Girl?

Did she cry in your office?

Would you believe it's already been taken care of by the vice principal?

One hot dog or two?

Is your homework done?

Do you know how much I love you?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Drink of the Day: Mommy Kool-Aid

(I had some for supper tonight with my lovely chili dog--both drink and dog went down quite easy, I might add) that's what she said

we sure know how to class it up here in the Riddle House...

Raspberry vodka

Diet Sierra Mist

Grenadine

Fill a glass with ice, pour in a little Sierra Mist, add a splash, or two, or three, of the vodka, add a splash of grenadine, top with more of the Mist and a maraschino cherry and stir. Oh, and make a "Kiddie Cocktail" for the kids with the Sierra Mist and grenadine to keep them quiet. Just be sure they don't confuse yours with theirs--that might get you a nice little visit from CPS in the not-so-distant future when your kids go to school the next day with a "Kiddie Hangover."

WARNING: these cocktails may be addictive and lead to semi-permanent red stain on the upper lip also known as a lush-stache.

Not Me

2009-05-22T15:01:00.008-05:00

Here's my girl on the playground at school on a late Saturday afternoon three weeks ago. She'd been dying to show me her mad monkey bar skillz, so we decided to go on the cool, cloudy day just before the rain came.

I snap photo after photo--always--because you never know what you're going to capture in one frame that you might miss in the next. I like to see pieces or sometimes the whole picture, but the pieces often tell a story that you'd lose in the big picture.

In this photo, I saw something I rarely see; a part of Natalie I love so dearly but can never quite put my finger on.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Before my baby girl was born, we didn't know exactly what we were going to get. We'd been warned about chances and percentages and offered super-sonic ultrasounds and specialists opinions, but we still didn't know for sure what we were going to be getting ourselves into as new parents again. Before knowing I was even pregnant, I dreamed of a red haired baby girl named Emma; my baby girl. I dreamed of her, saw her, without even knowing, she had come to me and revealed herself.

Emma changed to Natalie and we damned the odds and decided to fall in love despite her skewed test results and because she was ours.

Around 10:00 p.m. on Saturday, November 4th, 2000, I heard her voice before I could see her. Her voice, stronger than her brother's and much more insistent, was telling me to take her, now, and so was the doctor.

I grabbed underneath her arms and pulled her out of my body. She was crying, madly, red, robust, and a "perfect 10" the nurse told us. She laid on my chest, in my arms, wet, slippery and only moments old.

I couldn't take my eyes off of her in utter and complete astonishment and relief. She was perfect. Every worry had been for naught. Every dream of mine had literally come true. I laid in my hospital bed and gazed at my daughter, at every little orange hair in her head, brows and lashes.

From that day, it has always been so hard to tell who she looks like or resembles in our family. It's so difficult to get past all the pretty just to see who it is, who can claim her and proudly say, "she got all my good genes." That porcelain skin, those orange freckles, that flying, flaming hair, those long, long legs...

~~~~~~~~~~~~

So I saw it the other day as I was inspecting my many, many photos of the same activity. I came across this one. And it hit me like a ton of bricks.

I know exactly who she looks like.

Daddy.

I Really Do Hate This Place

2009-05-17T11:49:00.004-05:00

I feel I must explain, somewhat, the previous post.

I woke up yesterday to start my garage sale at 8:00 and the temperature was 38 degrees. The wind was blowing something like 100 miles per hour. Really. It was so cold that I dug my Uggs back out(which just so happened to be not too far away from the Birkenstocks, ironically), put on layers of fleece and down and hauled my ass out to set things up. Someone came by and told me the "wind chill" was 20. Wind chill? Really? They actually have that in the middle of May???? Fuck me.

Reason #1 that I hate this fucking place.

I've also been down and wallowing, as if you haven't noticed, for a little while now. It's like constant PMS has taken up residence inside me and feeling sorry for myself is just a natural emotion now. The voices and I do it a lot and I also talk to The Man about it and write a little bit about it here, but other than that it's "Happy Mommy" and pink pills as usual. And wine. And sleep. And other things that are fun and require little energy.

I realize life will never be the same for us as it was in Indiana. I know that. But it doesn't change the fact that we are very much alone here and the people...well, for the most part, the people are just cold and unfriendly and unbelievably clique-ish (reason #2 that I hate this fucking place). And I can't, for the life of me, figure out why. I could give you story after story about the utter and complete lack of care or just complete and utter disdain with which these people conduct themselves in our presence, but I won't; it's too exhausting. I'd rather play bejeweled blitz for the thousandth time, drink some more coffee and make a list a mile long of the things I need to be doing instead of playing bejeweled blitz and drinking coffee.

I had a conversation with myself yesterday as I was loading groceries into the back of my Murano at Costco (how suburban does that get?); I said, "Self? Yeah, you...the sorry, whining-ass bee-otch who thinks life sucks here, YOU! You have two choices: make yourself happy and thankful for what you do have, right now, or sit on your ass and let everyone and everything else have the power over you to make your life suck." Yes, I really had that very conversation at Costco, in the parking lot, while loading things like mango and Splenda and raw chicken legs into the back of my car. And the mango was verrrrrry good, by the way.

So I decided that I would be happy. I'd look at the bright side, which is totally not my nature, by the way. It was either that or run away and take my kids with me back home. And that wouldn't be quite fair to The Man now, would it? Or to the kids. Or to me or anyone.

So, don't expect me to not continue to complain and bitch and go to the dark side every now and then, because I'm still human for chrissakes. I'm just going to try to make this life and the follies of these people and this godforsaken place a little more laughable.

All the while eating tasty mango and loving my little family.

Just In Case You Didn't Already Know...

2009-05-16T07:41:00.004-05:00

IHATETHISFUCKINGPLACEIHATETHISFUCKINGPLACEIHATETHISFUCKINGPLACEIHATETHISFUCKINGPLACEIHATETHISFUCKINGPLACEIHATETHISFUCKINGPLACEIHATETHISFUCKINGPLACEIHATETHISFUCKINGPLACEIHATETHISFUCKINGPLACEIHATETHISFUCKINGPLACEIHATETHISFUCKINGPLACEIHATETHISFUCKINGPLACEIHATETHISFUCKINGPLACEIHATETHISFUCKINGPLACE...I...HATE...THIS...FUCKING...PLACE!

W. A. R.

2009-05-11T10:18:00.003-05:00

I haven't seen him in 7 years, 4 months, and 11 days. Alive anyway - if you could call it that.

I just had the overwhelming desire to have breakfast with him. I have great memories of him at breakfast time, when he was usually at his best; before he had time to start drinking again. But, so many times that were good were had while sitting across a grimy diner table in a booth with split vinyl seats drinking coffee that he would claim was "squeezed out of a mop" or would "put hair on your chest". He usually wore a trucker hat perched precariously on top of his greasy comb over and I'd talk with him while looking into his blue eyes--incredibly blue--or at his nicotine stained teeth. He was so skinny but could put away a good sized breakfast and plenty of that godforsaken coffee. I felt special at those times. Like he really did care. I never wanted it to end, but it always did. He always left and became someone I hated later in the day.

I cry now. Hot tears for a man I loved and hated just as passionately. I'd do just about anything to have my breakfast dad back. I miss him terribly.

Mine.

2009-05-10T16:34:00.002-05:00

This is...

why I put my feet on the ground every day; and keep them there

why I live, breathe, see, feel, hope, fail, and get back up again

why I believe, doubt, question and fight

why I smile more than I ever did in my entire life

why there's more beauty in the world

why I know the next day will be a better one

why existence becomes joy on an ordinary day

why life and love are real

why I am honored this day

why.I.am.alive.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Happy Mother's Day.

1 Year, 8 Months, 16 Days...And Counting

2009-05-08T12:58:00.003-05:00

Stand on your favoite state, Natalie. Mommy will take your picture.

I miss home. I really, really miss home.

Language of Love

2009-05-07T00:27:00.009-05:00

I like to say funny things to my kids just to catch them off guard. We have lots of silliness and ridiculousness going on in our house on a daily basis, and I like it that way (I know you find that hard to believe after reading the previous post). It keeps life fun and interesting and a smile on their faces--and mine too.

Sometimes I say words like "shit" and "crap" just to make them snicker. They find it laugh-worthy. I do too. What am I? Like, 5 or something? Those words still have a way of making me feel naughty, in a good way. Being a bad girl is fun. So is inserting said words into bedtime stories occasionally. Nothing like a good wordy dird to make Junie B. Jones a little more laugh-out-loud-able!

I like to call Natalie things like "Stinky McGee" or "Squeegee McFarland" or "Stinkers McGillicuddy"--don't ask me why or where it came from, but it fits. Nolan is "Bubba", "Bubbie", "Dill-Weed", "Dill-Head", and a whole host of other euphemisms I use instead of calling my son a dick-head. What? Boys are dick-heads! You know they are! But I can't call him that, so "Dill" replaces "Dick" until he figures it out, then I'll stop. See Jess...I knew you'd regret that whole "Mom of the Year" thing pretty quickly...

I usually don't break out the big guns (the dreaded "F"_ _ _ word) unless I think they're out of earshot. But today I didn't. I was angry and said it. You know what? It's not so bad. It's actually kind of liberating. How cool would my mom have been if she had used the Big One once in a while! No, I only remember shits, damns, hells, goddammits and the occasional bitch. I think I would have respected her more if she had dropped a few "motherfuckers" every now and then. No, I know I would have.

Anyway, language is such a colorful thing; why should we hold our tongues and limit our use of words where our kids are concerned? I tell mine they may not repeat what I say until they are 18, but I know Nolan, the little shit, is dropping some "craps" and possibly some F-bombs when I'm not around. Little motherfucker. He never listens to me. (And I say 'motherfucker' with utter, complete and total love and adoration.)

Once, I allowed Natalie say "shit" in the car, just for fun; I even encouraged it, so she screamed it at the top of her lungs. We laughed our asses off for at least 5 minutes afterwards. She has never uttered the word since. Seriously. But, man...was that funny!

At least my kids will know how to curse like a sailor if the need ever presents itself.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Drink of the Day: The Dirty Girl Scout

1/2 tsp. Creme de Menthe
1 oz. vodka
1 oz. Irish Cream
1 oz. Kahlua

Mix together and serve over ice. This would probably taste good with a row of thin mints on the side, I'm thinking. Or samoas. Or tagalongs.

This Is What You WISH You Were Getting For Mother's Day

2009-05-06T09:20:00.008-05:00

I have more to write about than I realize. I've been keeping most of it in, and it's not all bad. Really. Some of it is downright funny. I laugh a lot, contrary to the mood of my recent posts. Life is good; sometimes haunting and self-pitying, but isn't a girl allowed to wallow in it sometimes?

I've missed writing about my family, my feelings, all the hilarity that is my life. So many times I'm experiencing a moment and conjuring up a blog post while I'm in the thick of it. Weird...and I know I'm not the only one who does it! (Fess up, you!)

I have something funny to tell you. This blog post has been festering in my mind for days. I know I can't do the story justice, but I hope you find it entertaining...at my own expense.

Momma needs new cookware. Boy needs an Einstein wig. Girl needs, or rather, wants, a new fairy book. Where better to go than Amazon, right? Free shipping and no tax sounds lovely to me.

Very excitedly, Momma revs up the Dell and mosies on over to Amazon for a looky-loo of the top Consumer Reports Highly Recommended Kitchenaid Stainless Steel Cookware. I wipe the drool from the corner of my mouth when I see that I'm going to pay no tax AND save $20 with my purchase. Oh, and shipping--yeah, that's been waived. Yes!

Don't ask me what made me do it, because I couldn't tell you. I can only postulate: was it that I had just watched my DVR'd episode of Dancing With The Stars' Gilles Marini and his fabulous flanks of steel (yes, I am a flank-girl; you know, those lovely side-ab areas where love handles usually reside? I likes 'em--especially on Mr. Marini; and yes, I love his hindquarters as well)? Or could it have been the fact that no one ever comes a knockin' because my boat hasn't been a-rockin' these days? (Sorry, Man.) Well, I'm not quite sure what it was exactly, but...well...um...did you know that Amazon sells vibrators and dildos too? I ordered a vibrator with my Einstein wig, Fairy book and Kitchenaid cookware. Is there anything more pathetic than that? Or is there anything that screams DESPERATE HOUSEWIFE more loudly than that specific Amazon order?

Let's just say that my Mother's Day is going to be verrrrrrrrrrry happy this year.

The Einstein wig arrived yesterday, first and alone, thank goodness, so no stray polyester white hairs will be on my Happy Mother's Day Dildo.

What are you getting this year for Mother's Day? It's not too late to place your order. Amazon ships rather quickly, you know...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Drink of the Day: Bang a Dildo Cocktail*

(this recipe is a little sketchy, so bear with me, people...)

2 shots vodka

2 shots peach schnapps

2 shots orange juice

1 shot pineapple juice

2 shots blackcurrant (?)--recipe doesn't say if it's juice or what, so I say go with blackcurrant vodka, if you can find it! :)

Throw it all in a shaker with ice and, well, shake it. And while you're at it, smack it up, flip it, rub it down--oh, noooooooooooooo!

Put it in your favorite cock-tail glass and drink up. But make sure you have plenty of batteries in the house before you get started.

*Recipe found at cocktailmaking.co.uk. Those crazy Brits!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It just occurred to me; what, oh WHAT will I get The Man for Father's Day that could possibly measure up (pun intended) to what he essentially got me for Mother's Day? Maybe a Doc Martin pink jelly 6 inch anal starter? Or maybe he'd go for this instead? Or this for when I'm not in the mood or he's home alone--or for that trip coming up to India? Hmmm. Something to think about...

This Post Brought To You By Years and Years of Childhood Shame That Therapy Will Never Cure

2009-05-05T01:55:00.005-05:00

The never-ending loop in my brain won't let me sleep tonight.

It has kept me awake for two nights now wondering and thinking and pondering and questioning myself down to the most minutia of minutia. I realize I am my own worst critic and know this, but it doesn't seem to quiet the hecklers in the background of my ego as I ride wave after wave of self-doubt.

You didn't do it right. You were rude. You were egotistic, selfish and self-absorbed. You are full of yourself and have always been that way, there's no getting past that now. You're fat, ugly, hideous even. You're a troll of a person and in no way pride-worthy. You have no right to be happy, to have joy, to let go for a while and feel free. No one really likes you or even cares. You make everyone around you feel annoyed and uncomfortable with your hideous social graces and stumbling, muddled language. You'll never be anything to write home about. Mediocre at best in your boring, shallow, under-achieving life...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Now, to quiet the voices in my head speaking so lowly of me; I know now where you came from. Quiet! Quiet! I need some sleep...

Who Put the "Wine" in "Swine"?

2009-04-30T18:52:00.004-05:00

The Man and the kids are at soccer practice, so I thought I'd say "Hi."

I've been sick for the past three days. Symptoms? Fever (in the beginning), sore throat, cough, runny nose, body aches, and all around lethargy.

Don't say it. Don't say it! You know you're thinking it and I am too. It's all the hype right now and a major coincidence that I just so happened to get this nasty stuff while all the media and world is getting it too. I am staying home though, just in case.

I have a lamb roast in the oven and need to bathe badly, so I'm gonna go. But not before I leave you with a delightful little drink recipe to try over the weekend...I'm going to!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Drink of the Day: The Bunco-tini

2 oz. Triple sec
3 oz. raspberry vodka
1/2 oz. cherry juice

Mix in shaker and top off with lemonade and then float a lemon slice on top in a martini glass. Viola! BUNCO!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Or "DRUNKO"as my friend Michele would say!)

Searching

2009-04-26T14:48:00.003-05:00

What do you see when you reflect on your childhood?

So many images, feelings, memories, disappointments, anger, failed attempts and struggles flood and wash over me. I feel desperate again, helpless, alone and forgotten. I want to leave it behind me, but it comes back. Often and hauntingly and usually spurred on by visions in my present life.

I have forgiven and left behind the faults of the deceased, but the photographs in my mind don't leave...still. How it changed me and made me who I am are still here. The living; well--they haven't been easily atoned. Maybe they have not suffered enough, as far as I'm concerned.

Why does this still concern me? Why do I hold onto it, like a love-worn blanket ready to be released into the realm of forgotten-ness? I don't need it any longer and it serves me no purpose except to linger in the cobwebs of my brain only to rise like bile in my throat at the most inconvenient and trying of times. I am what I am now, yes, like Popeye would say--I am what I am and that's all that I am-- and nothing needs to be relived or revisited over and over again; that which is so painful and unanswered and unjust.

I'm searching for the answers where there are none. That's just life and the cards I had been dealt. I survived, and I'd like to think, I came out fighting and strong and nothing, I mean nothing will keep me quiet and meek and powerless like that again. Nothing.

I don't want to punish the living, the innocent. I want to forget now, but would that change me? Would that make me a less loving, caring, passionate, laughing, feeling person, mother, wife? I'd be willing to let forgiveness wash over me, if only it would present itself in a tasty, easy to swallow little pill that doesn't cost me a thing: not my pride or my strength as others interpret it. I'm looking for the perfect little pill, but I don't know if it even exists. So, in the meantime, I'll just swallow what's pink and prescribed and pacifying for the moment.

I'll breathe and go on.

Awakening

2009-04-18T12:03:00.008-05:00

I can tell that our 2 year mark here in Minnesota is coming upon us quickly. I have never stopped counting the months since we left our home in Indiana, contrary to what I had been told about the so-called wonderful-ness of this place. I have to admit; it's growing on me--slowly, but surely, it is becoming home.

My social calendar is filling up these days, thanks in part to my own boldness at posting an ad on Craig's List looking for fellow women who were bored with stay-at-home mom-ness and the fact that Spring has finally sprung here and people are venturing outdoors to see who's still alive and who's gained 25 pounds over winter and who hasn't. I've taken it upon myself to start a bunco group and a neighborhood garage sale as well as chatting up neighbors over the fence on a regular basis. Yes, I'm getting quite un-shy in my old age.

The kids are outside constantly: Nolan thinks he's Tony Hawk and A-Rod and LeBron James all wrapped up into one huge 11 year-old, sweaty boy and Natalie and her little stick-legs can't stop jumping rope or now, hula hooping with her girlfriends. Last night was officially the first night of a summer ritual in the neighborhood among the kids: late-night games of "wolf"--the best thing a kid can ask for. And the mosquitoes are not biting yet.

We slept with the windows open last night and the ceiling fan is getting warmed up for summer. We have been spoiled a bit early this year with temperatures hovering around 70 degrees and seemingly endless amounts of sunshine. I will sooooo not complain about too much sun again, ever, in my life! I can actually feel it zapping all the sadness and mustiness of winter out of my body. I have questioned myself frequently lately on the sanity of moving here as compared to, oh, say, Florida or California where the sunshine and warmth are endless. Those people must be happier; they just must be, right?

I feel my spirit awakening again this spring. It's been a while. It's about time the sun started to shine again.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Drink of the Day: Rolling Rock

1. Go to the store, buy a six pack (I prefer bottles)of Rolling Rock beer.

2. **Open bottle and drink up while you grill your ribs, chicken, hot dogs, hamburgers, shish-kebobs, and what-not on the grill, sitting on your deck and watching the sun go down while listening to the neighborhood children squeal with delight as they get to play outside without the need of an extra 30 pounds of clothing on their little bodies.

**what I did last night...and did the Rolling Rock ever taste gooooooooood! I had two of them as well as a headache this morning. Damn, I'm a lightweight!

You Got A Lovely Face

2009-04-07T10:04:00.006-05:00

There's not much new here which gives me very little blogging fodder. I tend to find the mundane pretty mundane and don't want to waste any remaining brain cells trying to come up with a cute little blog post to describe my pathetically boring life.

What's on my mind:

As always, my beautiful, intelligent, amazingly skinny daughter. She's joy wrapped up in a smiling, skipping mass of wild red hair and love. Every day, it blows my mind how much she loves me and her limitless capacity for it. Every day, I wonder what I did in my life to deserve her.
My son. Annoying. Stinky. Mean little scheister. Handsome as all get-out and now officially taller than his mommy. How did that happen? Where was I between baby-dom and his now pre-pubescent self? God, I love him. He's me, only embodied in an 11 year-old boy, I swear. That's why he drives me so crazy.
My husband. He's sweet. Thoughtless, most of the time, but sweet. He's coaching Nolan's soccer team because no one else would step up and do it and this threatened the team even being able to play at all with no coach available (don't even get me started on the mess of recreational soccer in this godforsaken land...). I love that he stepped up, despite being one of the busiest guys I know. He's a good Daddy. And you should see how he holds his girl at night...makes my ovaries hurt.
Dining room tables. I've been obsessing over getting a new one. I know what I want, but can't find it! Ack! Boring, I know, but this is my life.
Entertaining the in-laws who arrive on Thursday. Mall of America--check. Probably not here, unfortunately. Looks like fun to me though...
Researching the possibility of bladder surgery. Looking for a nice, experienced OB/GYN to visit first; preferably one who is of the female persuasion and older than me. I don't know, but I feel a little more comfortable with someone who knows the hoo-ha verrrrry personally and can identify with my pissing every time the wind blows...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Drink of the Day: TMI Cocktail

1 part tequila

1 part Midori Melon Liqueur

Ice

Pour your mommy-juice over ice in a shaker and shake the hell out of it while singing this (be careful...it's naughty...turn the effing volume down in the presence of your spawn ). Yes, you have to sing while you shake or it won't taste right.

Pour into a shot glass and drink up, crazy bee-otch!

****Edited to note: "It's the Easter Beagle, Charlie Brown!" is on tonight, so set your DVR's, in case you care. Have a few TMI cocktails while you watch and it will make it that much more fun to watch with the kiddos! Hey, I'm there for ya'....got your back and stuff.

It's About F-ing Time!

2009-03-29T23:22:00.005-05:00

I did it.

I won "Mom of the Year"--2009. That was my goal. That's what I was striving for. That's why I didn't feed my kids lunch today and let them stay up waaaaay past their bedtimes. That's why I let them skip school two weeks ago in order to ride the rides all day long at the Mall of America. Now I've done it; I can stop trying so hard.

No, really this cute little award is from Jessica at Overflowing Bookshelf. I loves me some Jess and I just got done telling her so. She's a little momma living in Oklahoma who I think I'd have to have been her older sister in another life. I like her a lot and now even better since she bestowed such a prestigious award upon my ass.

So, per the rules, I must pass this on to five of my gal-pals who are rockin' mommas too. Boy...this is gonna be a hard one, and I hate to dilute the prestige and awesomeness I'm feeling right now by giving away my "Mom of the Year" award, but I guess I'll just have to suck up my pride and pass it on...

Kristy, my see-ster in real life at mommybot---this one's for you. My number one pick...aren't you spay-shul! Why, yes you are!

Diane at Just the Eggs...this one's for you too. I love this momma-hen and her two little eggs so much!

Diana at Wang-alangers is just amazing. Her kindness, incredible. Her energy, endless. Her humor, well...humorous! So there ya' go, Diana!

My bestest friend since I was very, very young...my soul-sista...Dorea at The Johnston's. She hasn't blogged since Christmas, so I doubt she accepts this prestigious award, but here it is Dorea! Come and get it!

And last, but certainly not least, my friend Suzanne at What's Going On? is a super-cool chick. So, cool sometimes I'm very intimidated by her, but she's a good friend and an awesome mom too by the way.

It just dawned on me that this "Mom of the Year" award for 2009 came a bit early, didn't it? There's still so much of 2009 to fuck up, right? Jess, you might want to take this back in a few months when I'm screaming at my kids on summer break and wishing them into college rather early. Hmmmm...

Oh, I almost forgot that, in addition to accepting this coveted honor, I must spill the beans about my mommy-ing abilities in a few bullet points:

Reveal something you feel awful about concerning being a mom. Oooooo...I could go to some dark places here what with post partum depression and other mental maladies, but I won't. I'll just say I feel badly about the scratch mark scar I left on Natalie's face made by my thumbnail when she was a baby. I look at it all the time and wish I had been a nail-biter at that time. I'm making up for that now. And what a depressing way to start out this "Mom of the Year" acceptance speech...geeez-us!

Remind yourself why you are a good mom. I remind myself every day what a damn good mom I am by looking in the mirror at my floppy tits. The sacrifice of the perky ones for these gelatinous, hanging boob-like structures just shows you what we ALL do in order to birth these babes into the world. (What was I thinking?!)

Pass this on to five moms. Check!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Drink of the Day: The Slut Tits Cocktail

1 oz. Blue Curacao liqueur

1 oz. vodka (again, momma likes the Grey Goose for this one)

6 oz. Ocean Spray white cranberry and strawberry juice

Mix blue curacao and vodka in a shaker with ice. Pour over ice into a highball glass (hehe...I said "highball"!) and fill with Ocean Spray, stir, and top with cherry. When you get tired of holding the glass with your hands, put the glass in your cleavage and squish your tits together to hold the cocktail. Now, VIOLA! You have Slut Tits! Yay! Happy Day!

Two Gommers

2009-03-25T09:34:00.005-05:00

Tear jerkers these photos are for me...pure, unadulterated tear jerkers...

That's Gommer (my "Grandma Maly" as my siblings and I called her--my great grandmother) in the top photo with Natalie in her hospital bed that she spent waaaaaaaay too many years of the end of her 99 1/2 year old life in. My, how I miss that sweet, funny woman! My kids knew their great-great grandmother. How awesome is that? And their great grandmother ("Grandma")too who is pictured in the last two photos with Natalie.

My kids called both grandmothers "Gommer" because, when Nolan was little, he couldn't pronounce "Grandma" and, of course, that wasn't about to stop him from saying what he wanted to say, so "Gommer" it was! Gommer and Gommer lived together for all of their lives as far as my kids were concerned. They just went together like peanut butter and jelly; like peas and carrots; like Mommy and wine...

"Two Gommers" as they were so excitedly referred to; Two Gommers was Candy Land and Snack Central and story time and love-fest all rolled up into one.

I miss these beautiful ladies. They were the only women in this world who could make me feel so loved, so warm, so fussed over and completely taken care of (which is a verrrrry rare commodity in life for me). They made everyone feel that way whenever you were lucky enough to be in their presence. Love pure as the Appalachian stream they drank from as young girls.

Just wanted to share.

Thanks to The Man for uploading these for me last night. And no "Drink of the Day" today as Two Gommers frowned upon that sort of thing, what with being proper southern bapist ladies...

Ch-Ch-Chickety Check It Out...

2009-03-12T20:56:00.009-05:00

1. happy birthday kathy adams, 2. North Berwick, Scotland, 3. Hot Spring Valleys, 4. On Holiday., 5. Gordon Ramsay., 6. Your Summer Drink Is Right Here, 7. Di Gran Carriera, 8. creme brulee cocktail, 9. Abandoned Goodness Wrapped in Trees, 10. Don't let go, kid., 11. Sally, Sally, pride of our alley, 12. Minnesota Glow

Tonight I was reading a blog from a commenter's bloglist (that's a little confusing, isn't it?) and saw this very cool-looking mosaic that you can make yourself and is a righteous way to waste about, oh, at least an hour if you're really into photography and flickr which I happen to LOVE! Anyway, you go here, set your columns at "3" and rows at "4" then go to flickr and do a search that correlates to the following questions:

1. What is your first name?
2. What is your favorite food?
3. What high school did you go to?
4. What is your favorite color?
5. Who is your celebrity crush?
6. What is your favorite drink?
7. Your dream vacation would be where?
8. Favorite dessert: __________.
9. What do you want to be when you "grow up"?
10. What do you love most in life?
11. One word to describe you?
12. Where do you live?

Oh, and you pick a photo you like best on the first page only, click on it, copy the address and paste into the correlating numbered slots on your mosaic page then VIOLA! --you have your lovely, unique, one-of-a-kind mosaic that rocks the casbah.

Did you figure out my answers? Any guesses?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Drink of the Day: The Flaming Cock Smack
(yes, I said Cock Smack)~teehehe!

1 oz. dark rum
1 oz. banana schnapps
1/4 oz. peach schnapps
1/4 oz. Bacardi 151 rum (this one's for you, Bacardi Mama!!)
12 oz. pineapple juice

Pour all ingredients (except 151) into a cocktail shaker with ice. Shake well, pour into large collins glass and gently layer Bacardi 151 on top. Ignite and allow to burn while watching out for the short curlies. Please extinguish before putting the Flaming Cock Smack in your mouth.

Caution: You might feel like a slut after consuming this drink. Or maybe you felt like a slut before the cock smacked you. Who knows? Work on that one with your therapist.

4 Hours, 40 Minutes and 53 Seconds of An Enriched Life: My Experience Living Computer Free

2009-03-10T09:54:00.012-05:00

I was going to give up the computer this week in order to enrich my life and the lives of my family with the fruits of Mommy's labors in everything non-computer, non-internet, non-facebook, non-email, non-tiptop and non-blogging and blog reading, but then I came to my senses and realized that I can't live without this thing.

My trial separation came yesterday morning. As I awoke, I did not instantly check my email or online calendar; I simply made coffee and got the kids off to school in a somewhat normal manner. BUT THEN THE KIDS WERE GONE.

I turned on the TV and got on the phone. After all, speaking to family members was much better than emailing and instant messaging anyway.

9:00 turned to 10:00 and 10:00 to 11:00. While I was sitting making my very own handwritten calendar for the day, I decided to get caught up on an episode (out of a total of five)of Oprah that I had missed last week. Seemed harmless enough. With the DVR to skip commercials, what would it take? 30 minutes tops?

11:00 turned to 12:00 then I got hungry having had nothing but the nectar of the gods (coffee) so I decided I better eat lunch before knocking some things off my "to do" list. That buffalo wing and blue cheese chex mix sure looked like a good option. And it was. Lunch was "poof!"--ready in mere seconds...

Well, since I was eating my crunchy, vitamin-fortified lunch, I decided to get caught up on an episode of Dr. Phil that I missed last week. You know, that whole "killing two birds with one stone" thing? Multitasking? Yeah, I had it all down. What would it hurt to watch Dr. Phil while having lunch?

Then the phone rang. It was my sister. Then the other. Lots of talking was happening. 12:00 turned to 1:00 and then **gasp**...could it really be two already????!!!! I'm not even dressed yet!!

My sister, Kristy, and I were talking about the wii fit and how badly I want one. That lead to me, who was avoiding the computer in order to accomplish more and live more richly this week, picking up the phone book in order to look up the phone number for the local Gamestop, Costco, Wally-World, Worst-Buy, you name it. I was on a mission now with the wii fit fresh in my mind and visions of my shrinking a-double-"s" working out non-stop due to all the magical fun-ness of it all. My mission was to find the wii fit. MUST FIND WII FIT...

Did you know that phone books are archaic? They are relics of past ages. Obsolete. Big, useless, recycling blocks that sit in cabinets and drawers only to take up space where cookbooks and coupons and the occasional, uh, back massager belong.

It took me, oh, I'd say, 30 minutes to find ONE FREAKING PHONE NUMBER. I found Costco and NO...they had no wii fits. Frack! Now what? Now how the hell am I gonna find the wii fit I so sorely need????? I searched the phone book for another 10 minutes and found our local Worst Buy. Called. Do you want to guess the response? I won't insult your intelligence by telling you the outcome to my wii fit/phone book pilgrimage. Did that experience enrich my life in any way, shape, or form? Nope. Did I look longingly at Mr. Dell sitting on my desk? Yes. He would have helped me out in mere seconds to accomplish what I had been doing for 40 MINUTES NOW!

It was going on 3:00. My fingers were trembling and ink-stained, my vision blurred from reading tiny, tiny print, still in my jammies and screaming at a 6x8 lump of useless, wispy paper full of numbers and names. What did I do, you ask? What did I do? I caved. I caved...hard.

I knew he was waiting for me to put my hands on him. He lights up every time I do. We stare at each other for hours on end. He keeps me warm and has shown me some verrrry naughty pictures on occasion. He likes it when I keep the windows open when I'm around. That's just how we do it. When I plug him in and turn him on, he's mine...all mine...and no one can take him away from me. And yesterday he was very dirty.

Mr. Dell called me back. He was there, where he always is...waiting...waiting...hot and slick and hard. He found my wii fit in pretty much less than a millisecond. And when he found it, it was soooooo gooooood...yes...yes...I knew you could do it for me...

I've got to stop doing this.

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Drink of the Day: Pee (or Wii/Wee--as I like to call it) Cocktail

Fill highball glass with ice

pour 1 oz. of each:

Peach schnapps

Vodka

Pineapple juice

Mix together well, garnish with lemon slice. Drink away the fact that it's snowing in Minnesota today.

3/2/42

2009-03-02T17:18:00.007-06:00

This was our song we danced to at my wedding; do you remember? To me, there was no other song that would do.

I'm thinking of you today as I do often. I cried a little...but not too much. Seven years helps with that, I think. But seven years doesn't seem so long when I tell Nolan and Natalie about you. The feelings come bubbling to the surface and I can't hide them any longer--even after seven years.

I know you are better off now than you were when you were here with us. I'm glad for that; I really am. Your life here couldn't have been made whole after you didn't wake up from surgery. I'm thankful that you slept. I still hold out hope that you heard my words while you were in that shadow world of in between. I hope...I hope...

And I'll always remember the blue.

Happy Birthday, Dad. We miss you. The real you.

Pleading and Poop

2009-02-28T20:47:00.003-06:00

Dear Blog,

Oh, how I've neglected you! I'm so sorry! You see, there's this new individual in my life who has stolen my attention, fascination, copious amounts of my time and my laptop tends to always go to her first. I'm really sorry. You know you are my first love...

This new individual competes with you as well as with the lives of my children, husband and doggies for my undivided attention. I realize that she ends up getting most of it, even though I know I am ignoring you and everyone else when I shouldn't.

I've missed our long talks, our deep discussions on everything from my faults to things I hate all the way to things like this and this. I miss the old me when I'm with you. You bring out the best in me sometimes, but you also bring out some things in me that make others angry or upset, but that's okay, Blog, that's why I love you so.

I am going to work on our relationship, Sweetie. I promise to talk to you more often and in meaningful ways. But I don't promise to stop talking to her...
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We just got back from the Water Park of America and boy, oh boy, are we TIRED! It was about 24 hours of non-stop swimming, sliding, floating, water basketball, boogie-boarding, pizza eating, people watching, tattoo counting goodness. We all reek of chlorine and have the dry skin to match it. My hair is air dried and frizzy and I'm bloated with the after effects of eating too much junk, but it was worth it. Photos to come soon...
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Drink of the Day: Poop in the Pool

Mix equal parts vodka (Mommy recommends Grey Goose or Ketel One for the best flavor), Blue Curacao, and pineapple juice. Pour in a martini glass and garnish with a floating mini tootsie roll then scream, "WHO THE HELL SHIT IN MOMMY'S DRINK?????"

You're welcome.

A Little Bit of Spring Coming Your Way...

2009-02-24T10:45:00.003-06:00

Spring Break officially starts at 4:00 pm on Friday, February 27th. There's a lot wrong with that picture.

It's not even close to spring here...snow piled on the ground, icicles hanging from the roof, temperature still dipping into single digits. Winter is SO LONG here. I don't know how to get used to this. And everyone I meet or talk to who is from Minnesota always asks me, "The weather in Indiana isn't that different than it is here, is it?" Are you kidding me? Short answer..."Y-E-S!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

No big plans this year for Spring Break. Everything we want to do is still closed until the REAL spring starts and we're saving our pennies for a nice, warm weather vacation or two this summer. Hopefully they will include a trip to Mt. Rushmore and the Badlands as well as a couple's jaunt to Jamaica....ahhhhhhhhhhh!

What do you miss most about the warmer weather months? Me? I miss grilling out on the deck with an ice cold Rolling Rock in my hand. That makes Momma happy.
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The Drink of the Day today is in honor of it being FAT TUESDAY! I am featuring my favorite drink I discovered at the Napoleon House in the French Quarter while wandering the streets of New Orleans with The Man back in good ole' 2005.

The drink: Pimm's Cup.

1 part Pimm's liqueur (an English, citrus liqueur)
2 parts 7-up/Sprite/Sierra Mist
1 part lemonade
VERY IMPORTANT!!!!! Slice of cucumber

Mix Pimm's, 7-up and lemonade in a shaker , pour over ice and garnish with cucumber slice. YOU MUST HAVE THE CUCUMBER SLICE!! This totally makes the drink...very refreshing! Now pretend you're on Bourbon Street and get your boobs out then throw yourself some cheap, plastic, 2 cent beads.

A Week Of Funny and Firsts: A Photo Post Because I'm Too Sick and Lazy to Write Anything Else

2009-02-18T12:01:00.007-06:00

Nolan's first ski lift experience (he's the one on the far right, next to his teacher in the light blue coat).

My handsome boy on his first day of skiing...it was a beautiful day!

My not-so-handsome, pasty white boy playing with a tattoo marker on Valentine's Day. We laughed so hard that day...

Nolan put these up for auction on ebay(with Daddy's permission and Mommy's help)...Star Wars figures circa 1977-1980. They fetched a cool $40 in record time. He's raising money to purchase an iPod and I refuse to just go buy it for him.

These are a few of my favorite things: wine, olive oil, heavy cream, cilantro, my beloved Santoku knife that slices and dices, and last, but not least, the always in the dishwasher colander... oh, and my garlic and onion-scented cutting board...

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Drink of the Day: The Sick-Momma

(disclaimer: don't try this at home if you are not coughing and hacking and sniffing and sneezing with a headache, body aches and pretty much all-around miserable)

15ml NyQuil

2 crushed Excedrin

1 shot high quality bourbon

4 Ibuprofen

Pour NyQuil in a medicine cup, crush Excedrin and add to cup. Get your bourbon ready in shot glass with 4 Ibuprofen sitting nearby. Drink NyQuil/Excedrin mixture first, then put all four Ibuprofen in your mouth and wash them down with bourbon shot.

Go to bed---which is where I'm heading soon...

Have a nice nap.

The Big Boy

2009-02-11T23:46:00.004-06:00

Not a lot new this past week. Slow posting when there's not much to talk about.

We all went to the local middle school on Monday to sign Nolan up for music class starting next fall. I still can't believe he will be a middle schooler next year.

I cried last week thinking of how fast he's grown up. He was such a wonderful baby and I miss that part of him so much. He's a wonderful boy too, but I really do feel him growing up and slipping away from me. Sometimes I just have to stop what I'm doing and grab him and hold on to him while I have the chance. Sometimes I feel like he's holding me instead. He's so big, my boy...

Anyway, we went to the middle school to sign up for music class. In 6th grade they get to choose among choir, band or orchestra. He went into the school thinking he'd sign up for saxophone or trombone. He left the school having signed up for his 1st choice-violin and 2nd choice-viola. No kidding! The kids all got to try out many different instruments before making a decision and when he went into the orchestra room, he picked up the violin, holding the bow with unlearned precision, and began to play "Hot Cross Buns" immediately by ear. The orchestra instructor asked him if he'd ever played violin before and, of course, Nolan said, "No." She laughed and said, "What's your name?"
"Nolan."
"Okay, Nolan."
She smiled and walked away to tend to some other kids trying to play the "Jaws" movie theme on the bass.

Nolan moved on to the cello. Again, he picked up the bow with perfect placement of fingers and right away began playing "Smoke on the Water". A different instructor playfully hummed along and said, "Wow! You're holding that bow perfectly. Do you play guitar?"
"Yeah." --(man of few words and he continued to play the Deep Purple theme)
She smiled and walked away to go and tend to another child trying to play the "Jaws" movie theme on the cello.

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Drink of the Day: the Big Boy

Go here to see it made...and enjoy the eye candy too.

You're welcome.

In Honor of Stains the Dog

2009-02-04T11:02:00.002-06:00

Here is the Drink of the Day: the Cupcake Shot

Mix equal parts of your favorite vanilla vodka and your favorite lemon/lime sodie pop in a shaker with cubed ice.
Shake in a cocktail shaker (try to do it while not shaking anything on your body except for your arms--I tell you, it's almost IMPOSSIBLE to do this), and also try not to sing this while you do it.
Pour in a shot glass and top with whipped cream and sprinkles. Mmmmmmm! Drink up! And par-tay like it's your birthday.

I think we all need more KC and the Sunshine Band in our lives, yes? Good for those pesky vitamin D deficiencies we all suffer from in the winter. So there, a healthy post today. You're welcome. De nada, Senoritas.

Oh, and if you make this drink of the day, please send pictures to me. I'd love to see it. Or post a pic on your blog and link to it in the comments section. I love it when you share. You might even try drinking the shot while watching the video in the previous post, in honor of the beloved Stains the dog.

Just a thought.

Cupcakes and Stains

2009-02-03T23:33:00.006-06:00

I can't get enough of Joel McHale.

If you watch The Soup on E!, then you know exactly what I'm talking about. The guy is freaking hilarious and he's going to be in Minneapolis on February 28th and I want to go see him SO BADLY but there are no babysitters within 600 miles of us so that's out of the question.

But I'll always have Joel to thank for this:

I know...it's little weird, but made me laugh 'till I...well...you know...

It's too early for the Drink of the Day recipe (it's still technically Tuesday, Hot Toddy Day), so I will post a special drink recipe tomorrow in honor of Stains the Dog. You'll want to tune in for this one.

Mmmmmmmmm.