Who Me?
I am a creative, homely and domesticated mother of two very active boys, the loving, loyal and by rare request slutty wife to my considerably older husband, a devoted daughter to my mother, uncivilized to the rest of my family and misunderstood by everyone else. Like I give a flying rats ass.

(Not Limited To) cleaning, cooking, sewing, crocheting, quilting, walking, 500 piece jigsaw puzzles, driving, web design and graphics

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the life of a mother with youth

Tuesday, November 30, 2004
A Serious Pain In The....


That's right. I have a throbbing tooth that emulates pain throughout my mouth, down the left side of my neck and it disperses through my body from there. It all started back in 1998, my first pregnancy. The prenatal vitamins made me sicker than sick. I went through 6 different variations and 7 months of the pregnancy before I found a prenatal vitamin that agreed with my system. My second pregnancy posed the same problem as the miracle prenatal vitamin was discontinued. I've tried 24 different prenatal vitamins over a span of 3 pregnancies with only one, discontinued, success.

There are many misconceptions about prenatal vitamins. Some women think prenatal vitamins are essential for the healthy growth of their child. This is untrue. The prenatal vitamins are to replenish the mother's health. A woman's body is as complicated as women are to men - mentally. Our bodies are designed to carry, deliver and feed a child without any outside help. What most women do not realize is that giving to our children takes away from ourselves. Most mother's figure this out when the child is wearing brand new clothes and they've had to sew kitchen towels together to make a skirt. Even after hosting our children for 9 months, we can not put ourselves before our children - with a few exceptions to this rule. Those exceptions are the mothers that should never be mothers, watch the news and you will know exactly what I mean. So prenatal vitamins replace, in our bodies, what the baby requires. I couldn't take them and, lucky or not, bad teeth are my result. Many mothers in my same situation face anemia and degenerating bones, this is why I am luckier than most.

So what happens to my teeth? A calcium deficiency has caused my teeth to be exceptionally weak. So weak that, on the way to South Carolina, to get my father for Thanksgiving, Nicholas and I were snacking on Cheese Doodles (the crunchy ones) when one of my molars shattered in my mouth. You can not imagine the sudden burst of pain. When I say it hurt, I mean it hurt. I've been through two natural deliveries of children over 8 lbs, a c-section, and laproscopy, two tattoos and numerous piercing. None of them compared to this pain. I've dealt with the pain and put of dental care but today my pain worsened.

Eating has been near to impossible. When I do eat, the pain makes me nauseous. My milk supply has decreased to the point that Nicholas has to stay on my breast to be adequately nourished. It gets worse.

Today, while brushing my teeth to try and ease pain, the bristles on my brush hit the exposed nerve in my mouth. I almost puked. I couldn't move my tongue or my jaw, which was left wide open. I couldn't speak, cry or do anything but stand there, looking in the mirror watching blood gush from my mouth. After many moments, I was able to spit. I was about to rinse the sink when I noticed something in the blood. I was not inspecting it but thought it important to find out what it was. With toilet paper and careful hands, I found that it was a portion of my tooth. Holy Shit! I'm still throbbing, bleeding and in complete awe that my tooth brush broke my tooth - I mean, who ever thought that a tooth brush could bring someone to their knees without stabbing them in the eye with it? - when I call my dentist and tell him what has happened. I have an appointment for, hopefully, a repair but most likely an extraction for tomorrow. I really don't care what he does as long as I have remaining teeth or dentures.

~happy chewing!

Saturday, November 27, 2004
X Rated - Read At Own Risk...

Okay, before you read this post, I recommend that you first use the potty. I've been giggling about it all day. This is an indepth journey into my twisted head.

Today, Tim and I decide that we need newer used furniture. Most of you know by now that I like to help people out. In addition to giving blood every 56 days and chopping my hair off for kids with cancer, we also buy slightly used furniture from Habitat For Humanity. For those of you that don't know, Habitat For Humanity is an organization comprised of volunteers. They build houses for under priviledged families. The families that receive the house also has to complete so many volunteer hours on the building of their home as well a different home project. It is really great for my community and yours because this organization is international. Anyways, Habitat For Humanity gets funding for building supplies from companies, individuals and buy selling donated items. Locally, we have a Habitat For Humanity Shoppe. I've always liked to browse there because the items found there are usually in really good condition and priced well. Anyways, we went to see what they had in the furniture department. Dedicated readers know that we purchased a house not too long ago that will fit four of our old house inside it. We are just beginning to fill up the space. Perhaps it was by fate of a greater spirit but my grandfather happened to stop by with his pick-up truck moments before our planned departure. He tagged along, with his pick-up truck.

We get to the HFH Shoppe and browse through the entire store. I immediately spotted the furniture that I had in mind to replace the existing furniture. We purchased, loaded and delivered our brand new used furniture to our oversized house. We were removing our older used furniture when it dawned on me how many times Tim and I had gotten freaky on the items. Okay, I will stop right here and do some explaining before you guys think that we are nymphos. Tim and I had no other choice but to have marital affairs in the living room due to the fact that our bed has been taken over by a cover hogging 7 month old for the past 7 months. Nicholas has slept with us from day one. When you're married and have kids, you'll experience these bed bugs from time to time and completely understand our business in the living room.

A huge smile came over my face and I informed Tim that we should keep the furniture for the apartment that we are building in the basement. He ask why and I explained that it was for mostly sentimental value. He shrugged and we carried the furniture, together, into the basement. Since we have kids, we were always careful about left behind bodily fluids. So careful that there was never any left behind bodily fluids. Not everyone is so clean about their dirty business and no, I am not a compulsive cleaner. This is proof that I believe in prevention first.

As we hoisted the new used furniture into the house, I began thinking about the origin of our furniture. I started laughing.
"*laughing* Ouch, stop, I can't carry this thing and laugh too." I moaned as I dropped the sofa on my already broken pinky toe.

"Exactly why are you laughing?" inquired Tim.

"Um, did ya ever stop to think if someone had left nut juice on this sofa?"


"Yes it is gross."

"Okay, so we'll put a cover over it until you clean it."


"Holy shit, that's why you want to keep our old couch."

"Um, no, not exactly."

"Sure it is, you want to look it over really good and make sure that we didn't leave nut juice. You're sick woman."

"Excuse me but if there was nut juice on our sofa, which there isn't, then you'd be the one that left it behind. That doesn't make me sick. I just want to laugh at conservative people that may sit on that couch one day."

"Why would you laugh at a conservative person?"

"Can you imagine Tim? 'wow this is a nice sofa' 'yeah, we broke it in real good' and then me smack your ass. Can you imagine the look on their face and how fast would you think that they would jump out of it?" At this point I am laughing so hard that I need a potty.

"You're still sick, pick the damned sofa up, it's cold out here."

I may be just a little twisted but I can't wait for an opportunity to make someone blush. As for the furniture, it is in great condition - no visible traces of nut juice and the covers are in place until Monday morning when I can rent a steam cleaner. The only problem with the new used furniture is that it is the wrong color. You guys have seen our rug:

The new used furniture is a really pretty blue but I like the rug and it is staying. Instead, I will recover the current blue with a blend of something spectacular to make it all match. My thoughts as of now are on a green color with maybe some darker tan trim. Who knows what I'll come up with but before/after pictures will be taken and shared. I wonder if Fancy Gap Variety is open tomorrow. Fancy Gap Variety is the greatest place to get upholstery fabric from. The quality is unmatched and the price is right too.

~~oh no, here comes another idea and it does not involve nut juice

Friday, November 26, 2004

Thanksgiving Dinner went off without a hitch. I got up early and finished preparations on the dinner. By noon my portion of the meal was complete. We were eating by 2:00 PM and everyone got along. Even the kids behaved. For those of you that do not believe in miracles, start believing - one happened today. I didn't act fake and no one faught. It's amazing really.

~glad its over

Wednesday, November 24, 2004
Bitter Sweet...

Lately, okay for more than a month now, I've been pretty bitter. I can sit here and explain in great detail what is going on in my super personal life but it wouldn't help you to understand why I am bitter. I'd have to tell you every memory of my life - all of the way back to my childhood - and I'm just not into that sort of thing. It's almost like trying to tell someone that doesn't know how - how to tie their shoes. Sure, you tie your shoes everyday but explaining something so simple to you is almost impossible to explain to another person - especially someone that doesn't understand.

The people around me don't understand my bitterness either. If they would shut up every now and again and just listen to my silence, they would grow closer to the reasons. If they would put themselves aside and look outside of their own life, they would be even closer. These same people that do not understand are my only net. Net being what catches me if I were to fall and trust me, it would take everyone in my personal life to catch me if I were to fall.

I like doing things thoroughly but the easiest way for me. My way may not work for you and your way will most likely not work for me. This all means that I do not desire or need to know how other people do the things that I do. Occasionally, someone will have a better plan but I like the way I do things. Cooking is a great example of this. Even though I'm losing weight, I love to cook and I love to eat - more importantly, I love to eat what I cook. I need not the "expert" advise of people around me to tell me how to cook something that I've been cooking for years and have never had a complaint about (others or myself). I am the best critic of my cooking - if it is not tastey, I throw it out and start again. I've never forced my food on anyone and no one has ever complained. This all seems pretty petty but it brings me into my next bitch - Thanksgiving Dinner.

The whole meaning of Thanksgiving is to be thankful for what you have - to give thanks to others. Being that I have the largest little family in my big family, I am going to cook Thanksgiving Dinner for my little big family. Traditionally, the eldest woman in the family cooks this meal, my Granny, but since the death of my Granny, Thanksgiving has went to hell in a hand basket in my big family. Instead of the little families getting together to make a big family, the little families have their own little Thanksgiving. I am not the oldest in the big family but I am the only female in my little family, therefore I'm cooking the meal. I don't think that my Mom has confidence that I can pull this off. Instead of allowing me the pleasure of cooking the entire meal, she has insisted on cooking a number of dishes that "(I) won't get right." I let this slide. It is a big feast and I give THANKS that she understands that I have small children and may not be ready for such an accomplishment so early in the developmental stages of my children.

Historically, at least one argument takes place on Thanksgiving. This is to be expected with my family - none of us can get along. We are all opinionated. Healthy debates are good for a family and now that my sister lives in Oklahoma and my brother won't be visiting, the only people that could have an argument is my mother and me. I don't like arguing with my Mom. She gave birth to me but she doesn't understand me. Come to think of it, she hasn't truly understood me since I went to college (15 years old). This misunderstanding only got worse when my Granny passed and was far gone by the time Audrey passed. She just doesn't get me or what makes me tick. This leads me back to the tieing shoes thing - even with her.

What am I supposed to do? I've tried professional help - that was a waste of time. Explaining myself to people would take far too long and cause them bitterness too. There isn't anything that brings me complete peace or instant calmness. My family has learned to just walk away from me when I am bitter. Tomorrow, Thanksgiving, I will probably be completely fake in an attempt to have the first nonstressful holiday that my little family has ever had. Have I mentioned how hard it is for me to act like everything is okay when it really isn't?

Friday, November 19, 2004
My hair...

As most of you know, my hair was pretty long - past my ass long - so long that people know me by my hair alone.

It's naturally curly and really thick. As unruly as a rebelling teenager and twice as unpredictable. It would entangle you if you got close enough and stick to the head rests in your car. Had I ever killed anyone, even with a swimmers cap on, a hair would have been left behind for forensic teams to analyze and extract my DNA. Even though it caused a 12 year headache, I would not cut it. My fathers forbid me to cut it. My husband ask me to never cut it. It was so overpowering to people that they would always want to touch it, just on the ends but never play with it.

Those days are gone.

Wenesday, I was approached and ask if I would cut my hair for a child that had leukemia. She had undergone surgery and chemotherapy. She had survived the cancer, only to be bald. Her bald head drew unwanted sympathy that forced her to tell or hear her story being told - over and over again. She wanted nothing more than to move on. I called Tim. I made an appointment with the chick that cuts my Mom's hair.

Thursday, I bravely walked into a beauty salon. A foreign place to me. I haven't been in one, as a customer, since - well - I can't remember. I sat in the chair and watched in the mirror as 14 and 1/2 inches, of my own hair, was cut from my head. I shed not a tear but a sigh of relief. As the scissors reached the middle area of the hair she was removing, my headache of 12 years instantly went away. My sore neck almost was unsore and my eyebrows relaxed into a position that looks completely more natural. Relief! After she cut my hair, she washed it and styled it and I walked out into the sunlight and cool morning air with a new, bouncy, sassy hair doo.

The results from one hair cut could not be more amazing. One hair cut lead to the complete rejuvenation of two young ladies with a lifetime of possibilities that are more clear now than before.

Links are coming but I'm exhausted - and not from cleaning!

Sunday, November 14, 2004
Oh yeah...

Due to popular demand, a collection of my favorite recipes are coming soon. As is a family photo album.

In the thick of things...

Friday afternoon, I got an interesting phone call from Isaac's school. I thought everyone would be off at their teaching seminar but it turns out that the administration did not attend. My conversation with DG took about 2 hours of my time and we discussed everything from child bearing to raising and how it directly involved Isaac at school. I expressed my disappointment in the system and maintained a professional attitude (which is a personal milestone for myself). After commenting that from now on, I will not be involved in anything that isn't directly related to Isaac, she went all to pieces. I told her that I quit Policy Council because I can not be apart of something that I don't believe in and they had lost my trust thus losing my participation. I went on to explain that the Policy Council encourages all questions, comments and complaints but does not support parents through concerns. She ask what she could do to regain my trust and I told her that it wasn't up to her. I demand apologies from those that have wronged me in front of the people that they have slain my name to. I, again, explained that I had a healthy lawsuit against the school for forgery, slander and breech of the privacy agreement. After explaining how I had such a lawsuit, she ensured me that I would get my apologies, plus some, and that my involvement in the school is very important to her and every other administration as well as Isaac. I don't mind my ass being kissed but it was the wrong person doing it and I explained that to her.

Tim was home this weekend and due to his feeling deprived of wifely affections, I avoided the internet, telephone and door bell. We had a relatively quite couple of days. We spent our time loving on our children and hanging out in a family unit way. Tim and I watched several Disney movies with the boys and got in the floor to play with them. Times like those is what makes being a wife and mother the most important and rewarding thing that I do. I'm lucky to have a husband that values his wife and children as much as I value him as a husband and our children. We did go out to get Tim's check, go to the bank and do some needed shopping. In the process though, something very odd happened.

On our outing, Tim took us to the mall. He explained that he needed a new travel bag. Tim's needs in the travel bag department are very specific. He travels for 5 out of 7 days. He needs something sturdy, large enough to hold his things and with a very specific zipper. You can laugh, I did when I found out that a zipper is more important than anything else when shopping for a travel bag. Anyways, we were walking into the mall and Nicholas's shoe came off. Tim took Isaac by the hand and said to me, "Finish your smoke, we'll be right back." I thought nothing of it and sat there, happily discussing peoples wrong outfits with Nicholas and smoking my smoke. When I finished, I looked up and saw Tim and Isaac coming back.
"I need you to go into the jewelry store and give them your fingers."
"uh, which finger? Don't you think I need all of my fingers?"
"*laughing*Every finger dear and they'll give them back."

I went into the store, alone, and the guy ask me if I was Mrs. S. Then he measured every finger.
"So, why do you need my ring sizes?"
"That's a secret."
"Because your husband is a very large man and he says that it is."
"He's really just a big pussycat, let me handle him, so what did you say this was for?"
"I'll point the obvious out to you and then I'm going in the back to record your ring size. Obviously it is to determine your ring sizes."

He left! It was honestly the first time that I haven't been able to get exactly what I wanted from a man. I was disappointed. I came out of the store with my head hung and Tim laughed at me.
"You tried to find out what it was for didn't you?"
*angry look*
"You didn't find anything out did you?"
"Only the obvious."
"What's the obvious?"
"That you had me go in there to get my fingers measured so as to determine my ring sizes."
"*laughing at me AGAIN* Duh honey, you may need a vacation, your sharp skills are getting dull."
"Gee thanks."

I'm sure that my ring size is needed for a ring. I don't know what kind of ring or for which finger. I'm sure it is a Christmas present though. Let's take a minute to recap the presents given to me by my husband.
1st Anniversary = a $2000 vacuum cleaner (Kirby)
All other Anniversaries = nothing
2003 Christmas = nothing
2004 Birthday = nothing
2004 Mother's Day = nothing

As you can see, my husband either doesn't like shopping or I am hard to buy for. I'm not hard to buy for but do keep in mind that I don't do the regular mushy flowers, candy, sexy things to wear at night stuff. I hope he doesn't go overboard.

~~Quietly Content

Wednesday, November 10, 2004
Busy As A Bee...

It seems as though I only post about cleaning, which would make regular people question my sanity. Some describe me as compulsive and this morning's post will surely justify it.

Here I sit, at 6:00 AM. I've been up and working since 4:30 AM. My work has involved cleaning the kitchen and the cartoon room. I haven't had much time lately to devote to the house between the school and volunteering. I'll explain.

I've been on several field trips with Isaac's school. I like helping and 18, 3 and 4 year olds, can be a bit much for two teachers on an outing. I dread grocery shopping with my two. On these trips, I've got to know the kids and their personalities. I've been concerned about one child in particular and the fact that he can use his hands for nothing but punching, hitting, scratching and beating other kids and mainly in their faces. I have a problem with this so I've ask, several times, what can be done and each time I get this explanation:
"Child A is in an unstable home with only his mother and three older brothers. His father walked out last year and now the mom leaves the care of her children to her oldest while she goes on dates. We know he is troubled but he was much worse last year."

The day of the Halloween Day at Isaac's school, I witnessed the head teacher tell the kids, not once but twice, to "SHUT UP!" Okay, pardon me but I happen to have a problem with this. Also, Child A continued to abuse the other children. I also happen to have a problem with this, still. So after returning home from Halloween Day with my husband, children, Joni and her children, I called the office of the school and explained what was going on and ask what could be done about it. The lady listened contently and gave me the number to the head office and the extension of the person that I needed to speak with. I called the head office and spoke with the needed person and again explained what I had witnessed on the field trips and the current day at school. She assured me that it would be confidential and resolved quickly. Neither were true.

The very next day, Joni was literally cussed out by the main teacher on the phone. She was very upset and came over to my house to tell me what had happened. I again called the main office to give an update on the situation.

In an attempt not to make this post a record length, the treatment of Joni and myself by the teachers, staff and other parents has dramatically changed. So much so that last Friday, Joni went to pick up her child and was ask to do the laundry by the main teacher, since Joni's name was on the sign-up sheet for laundry. She was also told that I had done laundry before. Laundry consists of 18 blankets and 18 sheets. I have never done laundry and when Joni called to ask me I was appalled. She ended up bringing the laundry over and we did it together. Do not get me wrong, I do not mind doing the laundry. I would go as far to do it every Friday just so the teachers wouldn't have to go through the pain of having the find someone willing to do it. I do, however, have a problem with my "signature" being on a sheet that I have never signed and statements being made about me that are straight lies. It insults both my integrity and my intelligence.

Monday morning, Joni and I took our kids to school at the same time. We walked in together with our children. The main teacher was conviently out for personal reasons. The teacher's assistant quickly started the laundry conversation with Joni and it went downhill from there. I ask to see my signature on the laundry list and my name, as well as Joni's, was there but in the same signature - neither of which belonged to us. It was the handwriting of the main teacher. In an attempt to not make the shit stink worse, I did not report this to the main office but waited so that I could speak with the main teacher on Tuesday. When Joni returned to school to pick her child up, she was confronted by another parent who was angry with her for reporting the main teacher the week before, telling Joni:
"You need to keep your mouth shut. You do not know what Mainteach is going through right now and your lies are devastating her. I know who the other bitch is that complained and if she would quit hiding, I will confront her too."

Joni was so upset. She called me and told me that she was pulling her child out of the school because the bullshit wasn't worth it. Her husband refused to allow her to remove the child and said that he would handle the situation at the school. For Joni's sake, I was willing to let it all go. Until...

Tuesday morning, yesterday, I went in with Isaac. Joni's hubby was already there with their child and was talking with the food service lady. The Assistant Teacher was again in charge due to the Main Teacher being out again. I did not say anything, to anyone, and was on my way out the door when the food service chick points at me and calls me a liar. Whew. I do hope that you appreciate the amount of self control that I had to maintain in order not to knock every tooth in her head down her throat. I simply turned and told her that I had never done laundry and I would never do laundry. She proceeded to say that she knew for a fact that I have done laundry because she brought it to me on the bus one Friday afternoon when she dropped off Isaac. I ask her when and she could not reply. I told her that I was not a liar and I would prove it. She rolled her eyes with a "yeah right." I ask Assistant Teach to see the volunteer sheets, that if I had done laundry, it would be on the sheet. She explained that they were turned in every month and they were no longer at the school but at the main office. The Food Service Chick grinned. I looked at her and explained:
"I hope that you do not think that I think that 30 miles one way is too far to go to prove that you are a liar and I am not. If you do, you have badly judged me. I know, you know and these teachers know that I have never done laundry. When the volunteer hours for it is not beside my name, you will only say that I did not mark it down. For that reason, I will go to the main office and do a bit of research. If you where on the bus, Main Teach had to be out. Since laundry goes out on Fridays, it shouldn't be too awfully hard to narrow down if you have been on the bus on a week ending day. If you were, we can ask the person that rode the bus the following Monday if I have turned in laundry on the bus. Now, there are only 3 people that have rode the bus. You, Assistant Teach and that lady right there. So let's eliminate this problem right now. Have you, Assistant Teach or you, Lady, ever gotten laundry from me on any day? *both of them answer "no" and the food service chick's face turned red* Now, do not insult my intelligence again for every time your peon of a brain tries it will always be knocked down."
I left.

I had an appointment at 8:45 AM and after leaving from it, I went straight to the main office of the school. I, once again, explained the problems and added this last episode of retardedness. This time, I also made them aware that I am aware of the FEDERAL law stating that every employee of a government position has to sign a confidentiality agreement. I stated that by other parents being aware of the situation, that agreement was breached and there were only 3 people that could be responsible, if the need be, I would file my own personal suit against the person, school and state for breech of confidentiality agreement, hazing and slander.

My child getting an education should not be this hard. I should not have to fight with anyone. The teacher shouldn't use words like she does and the children that pose a threat to the other children need to be sent home. The lies and bullshit need to stop and everything will be just fine. I refuse to remove Isaac from school. He needs this, regardless of what I have to go through to insure that he is not mentally, emotionally or physically abused in the process.

Thursday, November 04, 2004
Mr. Clean...

I am not obsessive about cleaning. I am not a compulsive cleaner but I do enjoy the fact that anyone can stop by my house at any time and it be sparkling. If your favorite star, regardless of the genre, were to stop by your house at this very instance, who would be ashamed of the condition of their house? What if they needed to spend the night? Are your sheets clean? Fresh towels in the bathroom? Soap scum ring around the tub? Toilet sparkling? I'd open the door wide, invite them in, cook them something to eat and kick back.

My house isn't exactly sparkling at the moment though. I have yet to go to the laundry mat to wash bedspreads, my sheets are clean though. I still lack the floors, as I didn't get to them yesterday. I have a few dishes to wash and I need to get my dinner gong for tomorrow when Tim gets home.
Tomorrow's Menu

  • baked ham
  • fordhook lima beans
  • fresh corn on the cob
  • potato salad
  • steamed veggies
  • biscuits
  • from scratch pumpkin pie
  • fried apple pies (Tim's fav)

  • Today has started rougher than most mornings though. I woke up early this morning to get motivated and it was drizzling outside, I was completely out of cigarettes and that combination means that my coffee won't kick in until about 10:00AM. *deep sigh* So after shuffling Isaac off to school, I loaded Nicholas in the car and went to the store for a pack of smokes. The weather has broke and the sun is trying to peak out. I'm on my way to the laundry mat. I'll wash, dry and fold the linens there to save time at home. When I return, I'll go through each room, cleaning - even the floor - until the entire house is sparkling, smelling fresh and ready for Daddy's return. Then I'll start on tomorrow's dinner. Ham is best when it is baked slowly on a low temperature in the oven. 300 degrees for 8 hours should produce a ham that will melt in your mouth. Potato salad is always best the day after it is originally made so I will also prepare this. The pumpkin pie will be from scratch so before the ham can go in the oven, I need to wash and cut 2 pie pumpkins in half and bake them until they are soft. While those are baking, I'll make the pie crust and get it ready to replace the pumpkin in the oven. Then I'll have to remove the skin and strain the pumpkin to make sure it is smooth. The beans will go in the crockpot and dinner will be complete with the exception of biscuits and steamed veggies. Tomorrow, an hour before dinner, I'll wrap the corn in tinfoil and bake it nice and slow in the oven with the ham, steam veggies and replace the ham and corn in the oven with made from scratch biscuits. It's always easier to cook over a span of time than all in one day. If you do it all in one day, by the time you get done, you can't eat what you've cooked. I imagine that our appetites will be strong after smelling ham for 8 hours.

    More to come later...

    More hath come!
    Dinner is well on its way. The pumpkin pie is ready for assembly and baking and all that I lack to do tomorrow is steam veggies. The ham has cast a wonderful aroma throughout the house. I'm SO hungry that it is getting hard to follow the "no eating after 7PM rule." The house is beautiful. All of the bedspreads are clean and crisp.

    Tim's ETA : 1:00 AM

    Wednesday, November 03, 2004
    And the winner is...

    George W. Bush for a second term in office as the United States of America President. I can not express to you how glad I am that this election is over. The media, as usual, brought too much coverage with too little facts. For 5 hours last night on the national television stations, we watched main anchor women and men wait for the results of each state. In between final counts were a rash of "experts" on various subjects to pollute what was actually going on.

    This afternoon, at 1:00 PM EST, John Kerry publically announced, his self, that he was conceding the presidential race. During his blah blah speech about how he knew American's hopes, dreams, fears and stuggles he started to weep. On national television, a grown man shed a tear. What a freaking puss! You lost! It's not the end of the world. He'll be back next year, when Bush is sure to get out of office - being that an American President can only serve 2 consecutives years in office as president. I, again, won't be voting for him because he is a puss. There's no way that I would want a cry baby to be president of this country. It makes me glad that he didn't run in the 2000 race. Had he been president when the towers fell, I can see him now crying like a little baby and sucking his thumb.

    I like Bush. I like the way he speaks without prepared speechs. I like the way he throws backyard bar-b-ques on the south lawn, wears a cowboy hat and invites his redneck friends dressed in Wranglers and super starched pressed shirts. I like the way he uses our language instead of dressing up lies with million dollar words. I like the way he stands up to everyone. I like the way he doesn't get emotional about anything. I agree with the War on Terror, someone needs to protect the world and who else should have taken the first step?

    These are my real life views on American Politics, they are not based on statistics, political facts or your opinions. For this reason, this post will not allow comments. Sorry but you have your own blog to post your political opinions on and, generally speaking, baseball, religion and politics will always cause an arguement.

    Tuesday, November 02, 2004
    Is my ass really that big?

    Ok, so I over exerted myself yesterday with the whole bank thing. I woke up this morning so sore that I could barely move. I hurt in places that I forgot that I had and it suddenly hit me that my ass is HUGE! Now that the large lump of fat is aching, I can feel every inch of it. I ask my hubby why he didn't tell me how large my ass is and his reply was:
    "You've been working on it. Its smaller now than it used to be."

    Okay, fair enough. So I had planned on going back to the bank today but my mother informed me that she would not be able to help with Nicholas. My husband is working, Joni is busy and that's about all that I know to help me with him. Tim suggested my grandpa earlier this morning and I was able to catch him before he left to piddle with his friends. When he arrived, we went to find more money. We were there for a total of 2 hours before it started raining.

    Yesterday's discovery : $271.00 and 1/2 of a $100.00
    Today's discovery : $120.00
    Total : $491.00
    Left to be found : $20.00

    I told my husband, and you I do believe, that I lost the money and I would see to it that we regained it somehow. I have, at least most of it. I do, however, feel that the irony here is just grossly humorous. Consider this:

    I lost $510.00 and found it on a bank.

    Tomorrow involves my going to a public laundry mat to wash our oversized blankets and sofa covers. I know that you know how excited I am about this. I also get to do my floors again.


    Monday, November 01, 2004
    Needle In A Haystack...

    It was no joke that I lost our house payment. Although I didn't cry, I wanted to. Tim was very angry, and really still is, at me. I've dealt with the smart comments and the looking when I possessed just a $1.00 bill in my pocket. I've learned to swallow my pride when Tim made comments like, "Do you think you can keep that dollar and not lose it?" I've been working overtime to somehow make $510.00 to replace it so that maybe it would all stop. I got a call at about 11:00 AM from our landlord.
    "April, Billy was outside and went to dump a load of leaves over the bank and found part of your bank envelope. You might want to get someone to come over here and go down the bank to find the money."

    As soon as I could get us dressed I was out the door. Since I am the one that lost it, I was going down the bank -- no matter what the bank looked like.

    After picking Mom up, we headed up the mountain to Billy and Carol's house. Upon arriving, Billy met us in the driveway to show us where he dumps his leaves. He has a yard vacuum and sucks up the cut grass and fallen leaves weekly. He explained that he went to dump a load of leaves over the bank and happened to look down and found the bank envelope.

    When I was in college, myself and a group of friends would go rock climbing any chance that we got. It used to scare my mom out of her wits. She would beg me not to go rock climbing with "amateurs". Well, today those skills came in handy.
    The bank is about 20 foot down and at a grade so steep that it required a ladder that was tied to a tree at the top since the bottom happens to be a river. I took a couple of quick draws off of a smoke while I pondered where I would start. He has been dumping leaves here for 12 years. I knew that if I were to make a wrong move, I'd be in the river and that I'd probably take the money with me. Even though I didn't have the proper shoes and only leaves to stabilize myself with, I managed to recover $271.00 and half of a $100.00 of my lost $510 as well as stay dry. I did look like I had been wrestling a wild boar though. I was covered from head to toe in leaf fragments and mud.

    Unfortunately, my party days are over eM. When you become a mother, you buy the things your family needs first which happened to be groceries. I did have a blast grocery shopping though. It was odd really but the boys got along and Nicholas let me put him in the buggy without crying. I spend the majority of what I found today and I'm glad that now my cup runneth over. If all else fails - we'll have food.


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