Taking a Blogging Break

My aunt passed away late last night. It was a blessing for her–she was suffering and ready to go Home. But it’s hard for the rest of us. I’ll be gone for a bit. Carry on.


Technology is my Foe

text-messageYou know what? I miss the good old days of beating messages in Morse code on a rock, or painting them on cave walls with smushed up berries. I hold the ‘latest and the greatest’ in complete disdain. You’d think my friends and family would know this by now.

“How come you never answer my text messages?” Because I don’t read them, silly! Most of the texts I get are spam, and  the phone truncates the addies so I have to jump through hoops to find who sent what anyway.  I hate responding by hunting and pecking letters on minuscule keys and tend to get lost somewhere in the eight THOUSAND menus of features I don’t use…so I have a blanket policy to just delete them all.  

Yes, I admit it. The old people Jitterbug phone is made for people like me.

I hate the learning process that comes with new programs and gadgets. It’s like an undesirable puzzle I have no choice but to solve. And as the most technically proficient humanoid in our household (believe it or not–although our 13 year old is catching up), everyone comes to ME for direction. This is not a good thing.

I can put music on my Mp3. I can listen to it, too. How to find a particular song? Not a clue. How to organize it by genre, or delete Dominick the Donkey that my daughter added as a joke?  No idea. I push Play and the thing goes. That’s what I know.

Dh was given a Garmin for his birthday.  A fine present for any truck driver. He promptly asked me how to work it. Uh, I don’t know. See that manual thingie? Read it. Let me know when you figure out how it works–I might want to borrow it sometime.

And yet.

Somehow I Forrest Gump my way through. Yesterday, I managed to set up a secure network, change our laptop’s AV program and get our daughter’s PSP online. It took about 4 hours and I have absolutely no idea how I did it and couldn’t repeat it on a bet, but I did it!

My computer guru loves me. Why, I don’t know. Perhaps it’s the challenge. When I have computer issues, he’ll say, “Well what did you do/try/change?”   Ummm…I don’t really know. There was a pop up thingie, and it asked me something, and I clicked Yes. That didn’t work, so I got into the settings and kept trying different boxes and stuff.

I’m very helpful like that.

There is a strange phenomenon that occurs once every millenium or so. (At least, according to my children.) That strange event is informally known as Mom Gets Sick.

sick1While my nasty sinus-headache-flu-ey thing is nothing to write home about, it does warrant a few temporary changes in our household. Seriously, I’m dragging ass and prefer few demands are made upon me. The more chores I can shuck, the better. And really, our kids are 9 and 13. Is it asking so much for them to pitch in?

Mo-ommmm! The dog wants out. (As I lay there on the couch, hugging a heating pad and honking into a kleenex.)

Then take him.

But I had to take him last time. It’s not my turn!

Sweetie, I don’t feel well. Your sister’s in the bathroom, please take the dog for a walk.

But Mo-ommmm! I’m busy! (She’s sitting in the recliner, working a Rubik’s cube.)

-Dexter the dog crosses his eyes and whines profusely-

Child, (which sounds like ‘Chide’ when one’s doze iss stuvved ub.) I want you to know I say this with love in my heart. But if you don’t take the dog outside right. stinking. now.  I’m going to sell you AND your sister. Together. To a militant dog-walking academy that ignores all child labor laws.

Do I really haavvvve to?

Unless you want him to crap in your snow boots, then yes, you do.

Hurry up and feel better soon, Mom.

“I cannot go to school today,” said little Peggy Ann McKay. “I have the measles and the mumps, a gash, a rash, and purple bumps…”

     -Excerpt from Sick by Shel Silverstein

Unfortunately, I think Peggy sneezed on me. Will be back to blogging when the cooties disapate.

That is all.

Relax, this is not that kind of blog.

Dexter the dog is a wonderful pet, but he has one major flaw. He loves to walk up unannounced and take a big swipe with a wet tongue about four feet long.


Who loves ya, Baby?

Dog spit is not high on my list of happy things.

It’s not really an issue when I’m wearing long pants, or when he catches a sleeve. But when I’m stepping out of the shower and he barges in and schloops up the side of my leg…? Or when I’m trapped on the toilet and he comes slurping on my nekkid knees?

This is the way of Madness.

I mean really–picture yourself upon the throne. You’re committed, unable to leave. In barges a  50 lb. mutt intent on swiping his happy-go-lucky tongue on your person! If you’re home alone, how do you finish the process and attend to the details?

Surely you understand my concern.

I don’t even know how he gets into the bathroom. Honest, I don’t. It’s a brand new trick he’s discovered, and he does the same thing with bedroom doors. This makes getting dressed an awkward sort of chicken dance across the bed, because Dexter’s not allowed on furniture. (Of course, he’s not allowed to lick me nekkid, either, but the furniture thing he actually obeys.)

I know, I know. Lock the doors.I just don’t think about it. I mean really–how often do you lock yourself inside rooms in your home when you’re there all by yourself? I’d better start remembering, though, because SuperTongue is really creeping me out.

I guess I should just be thankful Dex doesn’t open the front door and go licking the neighbors. One of them is an exhibitionist, and y’allllll…I’d need four tubes of toothpaste and a vat of Clorox before I’d let him back inside again.

Crazy Dad

kittyThere we were–in the parking lot of Kmart on Black Friday. Two kids in the back seat, Hubby at the wheel, our dually pickup (Big Fat Mama, she’s called) slipped and slid her way though a pile of slush.

Since the kids were amused, my husband immediately headed for the emptiest part of the parking lot to do some additional (minor, I assure you) slip sliding. Not exactly the donuts we used to do 20 years ago, (sigh) but shhhhh! Don’t tell the kids.

As they laughed at their Dad’s antics, one of those family moments began to develop. Namely, the creation of a song. One giggling girl would start a line, while another finished. Hubby and I chimed in when they got stuck. It’s not traditional Christmas music, but it sure was fun. And so I bring you the Trainor Family tune, Crazy Dad:

Crazy Dad  (to the tune of Jingle Bells…more or less.)


Dashing through the snow, in a 4-wheel Ford today,

over people we go, screaming all the way…AHHHHH!

The snow is turning red, All the folks are dead

We woke up in the pokey with 6 glocks aimed at our heads!


Oh! Crazy Dad, Crazy Dad, cuckoo all the way!

Pulled over because he didn’t have his license today-hey!

Crazy Dad, Crazy Dad, where the heck is Mom?

We’re pretty sure she wouldn’t like the crap that’s going on!


People screamed real loud, what was going on?

Right about then’s when we saw a head roll ‘cross the lawn!

And now Dad’s doing time. His stretch is 5 to 9,

and Mom is getting married to some guy she met online.


Oh Crazy Dad, Crazy Dad, crazy all the way!

People should’ve stayed home and they wouldn’t be dead today-ay!

Crazy Dad, Crazy Dad, mowing over friends!

Thank goodness you wound up in jail–that’s how this story ends!


(Oh. Like your kid never made up homicidal show tunes.) 😛


A day for togetherness and humble thanks.

Thanks for the tremendous bounty we have, for warm houses and running water and electricity. Thanks for living in a country where we can speak our minds. Thanks for family and friends, and the ability to suck air for another day.

Plus, y’all know how much I love the thought of mass slaughter of evil Chickenzillas.