As my heart weeps...

          I could not post, I just couldn't. I tried, but every time I sat down my mind drifted back to the children of Sandy Hook. Every time I went to the store I saw the headline's and the photos and my heart would focus on my own babies. I heard about a little girl who loved and obsessed over horses, and I would see my little girl holding her doll sooo tightly; her eyes squeezed shut as she loved her own baby doll with such intensity. I would see her tip-toe down the hall so that she wouldn't wake up her baby from it's nap.
          I heard the story of a little boy who saved his friends and thought of my son holding a beam of wood in the fireplace of his pre-school so it wouldn't fall on them. I see his silhouette as he twirled around in our house as it was under construction. As he twirled around he sang, "My own room, all my own".
          I think of the brave women who did their best to save as many as they could; of those who sacrificed their lives...who very likely continued to help and guide these little ones as they had to leave us behind and walk into our Lord's embrace....

          So, you see I couldn't see the keyboard through my tears....


I am disgusted by the politicians who try to hijack events for their own agendas. Within an hour they were screaming for gun control...what was it the president's chief of staff said ? Something about never wasting a good crisis?

I refuse to hate anyone. I am filled with sorrow for anyone who is so tormented by their life that they seek a violent solution. The Oklahoma bombing, the twin towers, Columbine, I don't hate the people responsible, nor do I hate fertilizer, airplanes or guns. That's just silly. When a drunk driver kills and innocent child, I would never hate the car. I want the person held accountable, don't you?


Merry Christmas,


Peace and love to you all....

Gandhi...

Gandhi said "Your health is your real wealth". At least I still have a sense of humor. I have a cold...just a cold. The difference with this cold is I can't treat the symptoms. I used to pop a couple of Alka-Seltzer cold tabs and be on my merry way. I might be a little more easy to tire, but on the whole, no biggie. But now that I wear a medical alert bracelet...I have issues. I can't take most of the OTC (over the counter for those of you, like me, that needed help with things like LOL and OMG) I have to seek pharmaceutical advice. When I was 17, that had a whole different meaning. Basically I now suck on sugar free hard candy and carry kleenex, lots and lots of kleenex. My eyes are weepy, my nose is running I have an annoying cough and a limp...where the hell did that come from? Oh dear..

Not to worry, I was originally going to tell you about my joyful news; the five pounds I gained over Thanksgiving were lost as of last week. I was going to say that I lost it through scrupulous exercise and nutritional management. Unfortunately that would have been a lie. I actually lost the weight due to a revolutionary new diet created by my daughter. She followed my around sighing loudly and saying,

                 "YOU CAN'T EAT THAT"

This is a very effective form of torture...I mean nutritional discipline. While I love her unconditionally, I realize that she has a gift that should be shared with the world. For a small fee, she can help you with your own dietary concerns. When I say, "small fee" it is because that is all I can afford to pay to get you to get her off of.... just kidding. I love that little monkey, truly. I'm not just saying that because she walked into the room.

Another thing Gandhi said was, " Your life is your message", so live well.

Peace and love to you all....

Frog hats...

Okay, first of all I'm not one of those over-protective parents who don't believe in meaningful employment for children. None of that, "But I'm only six ", crap. Get out there and make a contribution to society. And, if you can pay for some of those orthodontic visits...all the better.

What's that got to do with anything ? you might ask...well you might. Never the less, I was driving my daughter home from her job at the local public access television station during a rain storm. We saw a frog hopping down the side of the pavement and my daughter asked me were I thought the frog might be going.

I said that she (the frog) was going to Macy's to buy a hat to go with the scarf she had impulsively bought on black Friday.

     "But, it will be a mistake, as all hats are since the invention of hair mouse'. No one wants to have hat hair. Also,when you try out the hat you make a "hat face". You know, you pucker up your lips and suck in your cheeks, then you ask total strangers 'How do I look?' Since you can't walk down the street like that, you have them put it in a box to take home".

I don't know about you, but I don't have the heart to tell some stranger that they look like a baboon's butt dressed up for a garden party or a constipated parrot going to a picnic. I always smile and give a "thumbs up" as I hurry away. Praying as I go that I don't see them again at Apple bee's having nachos and wearing that stupid hat.

My daughter looked at me and said,

     "You really do over think things. I'm pretty sure the frog is just lost because everything is wet".

Kids, what are you going to do with them? *smile*

Peace and love to you all....

And the beat goes on...

          Class, we will now discuss DIABETES. What is it and why are most people diagnosed right before Thanksgiving? Just kidding...it was just me actually. Diabetes is the inability to produce the hormone insulin, in sufficient quantities (or at all) or resistance to this hormone. This can lead to seizures, blindness, organ failure, coma and/or death. Pretty cheerful stuff,eh?

          Interestingly enough, many people know little if anything about this disease, even though they may be at risk. Things like: it runs in families, and if you had gestational diabetes, you are at a greater risk. It isn't caused by eating too much sugar, nor is it caused by obesity. Though these thing are factors in the management of diabetes. Most people are familiar with the fact that there are two types of diabetes, and that people with diabetes can behave strangely if their sugar management is "off".

          It is referred to as "the silent killer" because many undiagnosed people have no clue that they have it. Coincidentally, I have heard: heart disease, high blood pressure, vascular disease and some cancers called "silent killers" as well. In fact pretty much any disease not involving the intestines has been called "silent". I am, however, certain that irritable bowel syndrome and spastic colon will never be referred to as "silent" for obvious reasons.

          I think the term "silent" should be reconsidered however, because in my case it wasn' t silent at all. I simply had no idea that everything I was experiencing were symptoms. For instance, peeing all of the time, well of course I did, I was drinking a great deal of water, duh. Being sleepy after meals; absolutely, I worked hard cooking the bloody thing and washing up, why wouldn't I be tired. This went on for years. But recently, I dropped 20 lbs in 3 weeks and I was extremely hungry all of the time. While I would never question weight loss...unearned weight loss is worrisome.

          Then I was informed that my doctor (the forth one in three years), whom I had never seen, was leaving and I was being assigned a new doctor who wanted all of my tests (three years out of date) brought up to date. I thought, okay, I am looking in the rear view at fifty...time to act like a grown up. I had blood tests and urine tests and my colon was photographed (I ordered 2 dozen wallet size for the Christmas newsletter). You would have thought I won the lottery the way all of the lights were flashing and the bells ringing. I had 2 e-mails and 4 phone calls with-in 30 minutes of having the test results.

         I asked my kids if they had any information about any of the "silent killers" in health class.
   "No, but I know where to get condoms and birth control pills for free...and I know who to talk to if I am abused or bullied", my extremely intelligent, over achieving daughter informed me. (Your tax dollars at work) Great, not really helpful at all, so I had a talk with my kids about my health, my family history, and how they should be taking care to avoid the pitfalls into which I have stumbled. It wasn't as difficult as "the talk" you know, about the birds and bees, but it did involve pointing out that I am not immortal.

        So, my friends, look up the "silent Killers" and make yourself aware of certain signs. Talk to your doctor and be healthy.

Peace and love to you all.....

Yogi's Ladies...

These are my ladies. See how they love to watch me exercise?

My family got these girls for me so I wouldn't get bored. The girls love to run to the fence and watch  me and I love to run up to the fence...and scare the crap out of them... snicker..I'm a stinker.

I think they look delicious. The last batch were quite tasty too.

Let me introduce you...

This is Ruby, she is a Black Star variety... she keeps trying to peck my tail when I lay down to rest by the fence...she is an idiot,

       This is Ruby's sister, Emerald.

                 In the sun she looks green.
                       
                            She is an idiot too...

     

















  This is Wilhelmina and Cornellia.
 
               They are silver-laced wyandotte breed.
               
                  Can you tell them apart? I can.

      hint:  Cornellia  (in front) has a pink middle toe on her right foot

                       Oh, and they are both idiots...

                                                          Ms.Frick and
                                                             

                                                          Ms. Frack are leghorns,

 therefore; absolute idiots

          Mrs.Whiggins is the white one  her butt wiggles when she walks...

I like that.

She and her sister Bethany are both arauacana breed. They are supposed to lay eggs that are blue-green.

I can't wait to try them. smack... oh yes,by the way, they are idiots     

This is Abigail, she is a Rode Island Red.

And this is her sister Rhoda. Rhoda is bigger and much more friendly, but they are both idiots.

I know that Thanksgiving Day is just a few days away. And, I know you are all anticipating a delicious turkey dinner with all of the trimmings. But, I want you to remember this...

CHICKENS ARE YUUUUMMY !!!

So, how you doin'...?

Okay, so I have a good reason for being late...I was visiting my mom...really. My kids don't have a lot of opportunities to see my mom and she can't really travel right now. So, sweet little poopers, they asked if they could spend their day off from school visiting Oma.

I spent the day driving the kids to see their "sweet little Oma". Who, with vampire-like reflexes (not bad for a 70yr old with a dicy knee) lept on me and stabbed my finger there-by stealing a drop of blood. Why? She wanted to see if I could be diabetic. You have to watch out for those sweet, innocent old ladies. Sure they look safe enough, sitting in the big comfy chair, knitting and drinking coffee, but watch out! Jab you they do. Anyway, my daughter thought it was quite funny and the result was exactly as I expected.

So then, today I had to go pick up a part for my husband. But first, make lunch/dinner for our priest. Then off to pick up part for husband. Much more driving, searching, turning around, driving some more. Wrong street, U-turn, oh crap bad neighborhood, lock the doors, turn again, whew there it is. (what an awful sentence...) Pick up kid from school, walk dog, off to store for video game"it just came in, Mom !!" Then back home,whew... I'm a little tired now, no wonder my chemistry is waco...

I will try to do better.....ZZZzzzzz


Peace and love to you all....

Finally...

     I have been unable to get on to my blog site...hmph!! Just what I need more technology challenges. I mean what do I have to do ??!!....

     My daughter threw a Halloween Party. She wanted a theme... Hunger Games . My mission- to cook recipes from the movie. Okay, Venison Stew- either you really like it or you don't. Why? because it is gamey (another word for blech if you don't like it) However I found a wonderful recipe for beaver. And it suggested ... what's that? you don't like beaver either? I am offended. There is nothing wrong with a little beaver now and then, but this recipe was to improve old beaver. This is something I support greatly. I used the technique suggested for improving the beaver on the venison... wow! Everyone thought it was beef. As my sister -in-law commented,
 " There's nothing like an old beaver trick to improve your venison", or something like that.

     So I am trying to catch up now that I've lost a week to technological difficulties. This week I wanted to address how doctors are never satisfied with medical tests. I mentioned before that I am having my blood pressure adjusted. But, my doctor has requested I have a blood test and a urinalysisisisis. I get no simpathy from my crumb-crunchers, when I get back. I tell them I am bruised and battered from all of the poking and prodding. Nothing. All they do is whine and complain about their tests and how hard they have to study.
     "I have to take tests and study too", I sniff. Then my son asks me,
     "How much studying did you do for your urinalysis?" Umm, good point. My daughter said,
     "All you need is good aim", thanks honey, something else I need to work on,
     "Uh, nurse... clean up in stall #3". Maybe I need to look in to that beaver recipe again.

Peace and love to you all...

P.S. go vote or you have no right to complain..

Yearly Physicals...

          So I have gone in for my 50,000 mile inspection. All of the girlie tests- normal. The colonoscopy, was a treat. No really. I had a great nap and I got a gold star for my cleansing. I never would have imagined this monologue when I was twenty five. Good grief. And through this whole process, I have been upgraded to hypertension stage-1.

         I have been a big supporter of taking your own blood pressure readings. Your pressure changes through out the day and it is believed that as much a 40% of the public experience white coat fright when they are checked. So, you should take an active role in your blood pressure management.

         I  have  a  paramedic  grade  blood  pressure cuff  ( yes,  I  know  it  is  called  a sphygmomanometer, but I didn't want to brag)  It is a slow and difficult process to take your own readings. It usually requires dislocating an elbow which in turn causes your pressure to rise. So, I went looking for an electric one that is a little easier. I just don't trust their accuracy. I compared the two devices and found that they are both crazy. The electric cuff gave me three different readings in five minutes...aha. I knew these things were off, but then I used my trusty-dusty and it too was all over the place....Quick off to the hallowed halls of knowledge... the inter net. Well, when doing a comparison, "one should wait for ten minutes between taking pressures". How am I supposed to get anything done if I am sitting with my feet flat on the floor and my arm slightly elevated, thinking happy thoughts for ten minutes between readings???

         Also, a little tip, make sure the cuff is the right size. When they are too small, the electric ones are hard to stop in time before your eyes pop out. And then it is really hard to get them back in when your blood pressure has jumped through the roof. A nice feature in the electric one is that it will average the readings for you. This too will keep your pressure down since you don't have to do math.
 
      Another added advantage is the weight loss from BP medication. My sweet mom told me she was pretty sure it was water weight, but I have to believe there is a little more to it. I eat a healthy breakfast now and four hours later I have a sensible lunch and then four hours later a healthy dinner. I  pointed out that I am drinking water like a sailor on leave, and I am getting a great deal of unexpected exercise. I have to  run to the bathroom to pee all day. That has to count for something, right?

          Anyway, long story short, get checked. It is fine to dance around and take a very lax attitude when you are a kid, but once you hit mid-life (that's for those who are going to live to 100) Once you hit mid-life you need to be responsible to your family and take better care of your self.

Peace and love to you all...

I Dream of Zucchini with the Dark Gree-een Hair...

     Okay, so in my community we know better than to visit each other from August through September because you will be forced to take 50 lbs of zucchini with you when you leave. We all grow it and we have run out of ideas of how to use it by August. After you eat your fill of steamed, sauteed, fried, stuffed and stewed you move into cakes, breads, muffins, cookies, pancakes, etc. Then it really gets weird. I have tried zucchini ice cream (yuck) zucchini beer (not too bad, after the third one everything tastes pretty good) and creamed zucchini soup (a little stringy, probably should have peeled it first).

     This is our annual routine. But this year I thought I had out smarted the zucchini. I am down to two plants. Oh yes, when I was young and cocky, I planted a bed of zucchini...twelve plants. The pile fell off of the counter and gave  the cat quite a start. (she still runs if I shout "timber") But, I think my plants are taking steroids. They just won't stop. I just went out to water my carrots and there was another dark, shiny pod. Stretched out in the sun like an old tabby on the window sill; two feet long and about three pounds. I dragged it into the kitchen, tears rolling down my face. My daughter screamed and locked herself in her room.

     "No more, oh please, no more..."

Well, at least until next spring when I will pace around my garden in anticipation chanting,

     "Grow, grow, grow..."


Peace and love to you all...

Paperwork... paperwork...

     Many of you know what it is like to deal with a major governmental agency. You can feel your brain cells being sucked out due to the extreme stupidity of the encounter. My husband is trying to get his papers in order as he explores the possibility of retiring. He has made many appointments with several governmental drones. Last week he discovered that he had to proove that I exsist. What fun we had.

     In our state, you need two forms of ID to get your driver's license, unless ofcourse you are an illegal alien. Then all you need is an accent.

      

          "Buenos dias, yees I waas born een Meecheegan"

 

I had to bring in my brth certificate and my social security card. That's right, it is more difficult to get a license than to become president. And that was the last time I needed my social security card.

     My husband called me and said he needed birth certificates for me and the kids. No problem, between school,  youth programs and church there is always a need for proof of age, but we also needed our social security cards. What !!?? I haven't been asked for my SS card in thirty....I mean a few years anyway. My husband asked,

         

          "You do have one, don't you?"

 

          "Ofcouse I do, Gringo. It's just that after so much time and human moisture (ie. sweat) it looks like a small piece of tattered blue felt."

 

So, off I went to find the paperwork needed. I had the children's SS cards in their babybooks. 

    

          "Why on earth would you glue them in their babybooks?" My cute and innocent husband asked me.

    

          "Because I can find a 2 X 3 piece of blue paper that was issued fifteen years ago and has been moved clear across the state only if it is glued inside a telephone book, that's why!" He's so funny...

 

My tattered piece of blue felt, however, has disintegrated into lint. My sweet toyboy, husband jumped up holding a copy of my W2 form from our taxes like he had found a copy of the Constitution at a yard sale.

 

          "This should do it, but just incase order a duplicate card."

 

At the Social Security Office there are new security rules. I walked in talking on my cell phone with a nail clipper in my hand. I was "hands upped" by a security guard who looked like John Candy without the charming smile.

 

          "New Homeland  Security rules ma'm. No cell phones and nothing sharp or pointy over 2 inches long, under penalty of five years in a federal prison"

 

Great, now the federal marshals can proove my identity after I'm arrested. No such luck, the guard "let me off with a warning". So I put my purse with my deadly cell phone and nail clippers in my car. I came back in and waited 20 minutes for the window. I explained what I was there for and the lady said,

 

          "I need a picture ID, please."

 

A picture ID? The SS card has no picture. My purse is in my car out in the lot. I have to walk past Barney Fife and then come back in and get in line again. Are you kidding!!??

 

          "Beunos Dias,  I waas born een Meecheegan"

 

Peace and love to you all.....

 

 

 

 

Be Sure to Eat Your Green Veggies...

So sorry Mom and Aunt Carol....I mean loyal blog viewers.Internet has been down and I had a Dr's appt. So, here I am, scrambling to get my winter garden in place. Broccoli, cauliflower, chard, cabbage, carrots, onions, Brussels sprouts and tomatoes, that's right tomatoes. They are a vibratory pollinator (that means you gently shake them to pollinate) and make a wonderful indoor or hot house crop for winter. If you had a wonder tomato crop this summer, snip 8-10" off of any indeterminate tomato variety, drop it in some water and you will see roots form and continue that delicious tomato through out winter.

Anyway, I noticed that I ad not yet planted spinach, so I got my seeds planted (I prefer seeds) but to keep me from waiting too long for harvest; I wanted to plant some pony packs too. I put them on the dining room table and went to change so I could dig in to the garden. When I came out I was surprised. the leaves were missing from my plants. Now I paid full price for these plants and they were strong and healthy looking when I bought them. I decided to plant what I had anyway. Maybe they would catch. There they sat, little twigs pointing up to the sky next to the tiny sprigs of seedlings breaking out of the soil. Sure hope those little plant lets catch on.

I went back into the house to start dinner...there were little green puddles all around the kitchen floor. I grabbed a paper towel and began to clean them up,

    "Hey, kids what were you making in here? You didn't clean up"

     "We didn't make anything!!" They shouted back at me. I examined the contents, it looked like
    shredded lettuce. And then it struck me, my spinach!!

     "Where are the cats?"
     "On my bed sleeping, been there for two hours", my daughter called out.

     "The DOG!! He ate my spinach!!"

 Then the kids screamed out,

     "What did you expect, you got mad at him when he ate the chicken?" +sigh+

Peace and love to you all...

Why Miss Jones, you are beautiful...

Boys don't make passes at girls who wear glasses, but do girls who wear glasses make passes at boys?... HELL NO !! Not if it is my daughter.

 Yes, we have surpassed the braces and retainer stage and reached the "Madam, your daughter needs glasses"  To which my daughter replied, "Oh no, mommy, I'll be so ugly"

So there we were at the Optical Center. "What about these? or these? how about this one? Okay, this is the one. How much will that be? $400 DOLLARS!  = thud=   Okay I didn't actually faint, but apparently I grew pale. My daughter then said she wanted to look some more. What do you do in this situation? She is my daughter; she is a teenager; she is very concerned with fitting in and looking good. Gulp.

"Hey, Mom, I think these are better on me. What do you think?"

I look over at my baby. What I see is a two year old girl, wearing my high heels. A table cloth wrapped around her and fake pearls around her neck. She turns from the mirror and looks at me. My breath catches in my throat, she looks at me and I see an accomplished young reporter preparing for a high stakes interview. Her eyes flashing behind the frames of her glasses as she smiles ready to ask  the killer question. I see the young bride looking up shyly at me as if to ask, is this okay? I see the young woman shaking her head at her brother coming to the dinner table in his underwear.

"They are perfect, even better than the first one, baby" She smiles her killer smile and says, rather loudly,

"And they are half priced!"  I haven't done a cartwheel in so many years... I wanted to, but I restrained myself. Good job sweetie, now, off to Sizzler for lunch.

Peace and love to you all...

And the silence was deafening...

The big girls...and Buster are gone. (sigh) I told the crew that we needed to keep things calm and quiet. Everything was set up. We had ice in the tubs and the table was prepared. The water was at temp for the scalding and the cone was in place. My son told everyone that he would do the deed and we had a volunteer plucker. My husband was standing by to do any chore required. I placed the first chicken in the cone, my son walked up and pulled out his knife, paused, handed the knife to me and said,

"It's really sharp, don't cut yourself"

What!!?? So, my husband stepped in and took over. The boy was demoted to plucker.

It wasn't that bad, really. Now that we have done it, we know what we would do differently. The way we did it was very labor intensive. I did all of the butchering, not a big deal, but I could not make a fist for all of Sunday and Monday. Nor could I walk because the table was too low for me and my back and hip are now protesting.

We iced them down and brought them in to the house for packaging and freezing. I had only five more to go and I needed a break. So, I ran to the store for some dinner fixings. No body wanted chicken that night for some reason. When I got back....there were only four chickens in the ice tub, and there was a wet trail of crushed ice across the kitchen floor and down the hall. That was were I found Yogi. He had a chicken hanging from his jaws. I told him he was a Bad Dog, and he winced at me and hung his head as if to say,

"I was weak, so, so weak. I don't deserve you"

Then he sulked away (shoop, shoop) and curled up in a corner. I'm not buying it you brat! No treats for you!! Incidentally, dogs love the chicken feet. However, when you give them the feet, be prepared to experience the shocking scene of what looks like a chicken trying to escape from your dog's mouth.

So, there is no more cheerful crowing at 6:30am, no more busy sounds of clucking. There are no more little dust clouds as someone finds a delicious bug and gets chased around the chicken run. All is quiet in the coop...

Did you want white meat or dark ?.....

Peace and love to you all......

Tech SUCKS !! I mean HI from the chicken ranch....

I have been trying to get online since yesterday...really....no REALLY! I had a lot to do and I put off my BLOG RESPONSIBILITIES until later in the day...okay much later in the day. But when I tried to get on line; I was unsuccessful. We had a power failure and then a broadband failure..so...while I am a lazy slug, this time it wasn't just my sluggishness. First of all, I had medical responsibilities. I had to take a test, perform a test, well...I had to do something for my doctor. Then I had to go to the post office and mail it. I won't go into it any more than that other than that type of mail would be illegal with out a doctor's request.

Then I had a request for some photos of my blog stars, that is right...

The Chickens !!!

well, most of them... they won't stand still....







And Buster, our rock star... and lead singer...

And quite a big boy too....

So they are scheduled for the block this Saturday.

They don't know it yet,

but I think they will catch on pretty quickly.

It will be a little gruesome at first, but very tasty later.

OOPS! Well how was I supposed to know

they have wifi in the coop ?

But. then I will be able to focus on the layers...

Or as my daughter and

chicken wrangler calls them,

"Fluffy butts..."



"Are you talkin' to me? Well, you must be talkin' to me,

'cause I'm standin' right here...punk "

All chicken processing will be inspected by our FDA chicken inspector

   ( FDA- Family Dog Advisor )

   I am Yogi and I approved this blog

"Shhh, If you know of a good lawyer, or a bad politician....

HELP !!!"

Labor Day...

When I was growing up I learned about Labor Day. I learned that it was a day set aside to celebrate the worker. Now I've learned what it really means... I'll explain, my daughter has decided that she would go blind and die a long and tortured death if her room was not painted a more inspiring color. This was the same thing she said when I last painted her room. I told her she would have to paint it herself. "FINE", she said, "but I need help to do it right otherwise it will be your fault that my room looks like crap". So, after months of color selection I went to buy the paint, one gallon.

"That will be $ $42.00 please".

"WHAT! Forty two.. are you talking pesos? What do you mean $42, are you kidding?"
I couldn't believe it, the young lady then offered me a deal. I could save 10% if I bought the 5 gallon bucket, regularly $200 and I got the bucket for free...

Yikes! Nope. I'll just take the one gallon, thank you.
I came home and got my daughter started on painting her room, how to paint the corners, removing the outlet face plates, open a window so you don't die of the Eco-friendly, lead-free fumes etc.

"Mom, I can't reach! "

"Mom, it looks blotchy!"

"Mom, how come when you do it, it looks better? "

All shouted down the hall at me and making me scamper back to help....

So there I was, standing on a ladder at 10:30pm trying to finish the room so she could go to bed. Now I really know what Labor Day means... when you go into labor and deliver one of these priceless little beings, your real labor has just begun. In case you forget, we have a day put aside each year to remind you. Thanks Mom, some how you get smarter as I get older.

Peace and love to you all.....

Greetings from the chicken ranch...

I think one of my chickens is a rooster. It is larger, more aggressive, has a larger comb (that thing on top of their heads) and a larger wattle (that thing hanging off of their chin) it has been trying to crow, but more importantly... it tried to mount one of the chickens. Chicken porn is not some thing to see before you have had your coffee. However, the expression on the unsuspecting chicken was priceless..."WTF ?!"

They clammer to get out of the coop when I open the pop door and push each other off of the ramp. Some fall off in an unceremonious thump on the ground. Then they all begin to argue over what ever treat I have brought them. Old melon, salad, greens etc. After they have sorted this out they notice me returning their freshly filled water font and begin to follow me in a curious waddle formation. There is one that is fascinated with my shoes. When I stop she pecks at my laces. I encourage them all to come out by picking up the stragglers and placing them on the ground. They usually give me the "stink eye" and run back up the ramp.

Oh well, at least they touched the ground first. At sundown it is time to go in for the night. This is a time of great jocularity. I have both of my kids out helping me. My daughter quietly shushes a chicken to a corner and picks it up. I try herding several in one direction and grab the one who doubles back. My son uses the chicken hook which is like a shepherds hook only smaller. He snags their leg from behind and pins them to the ground.You've heard the expression "herding cats" well it has nothing on "herding chickens". Though I must say my daughter does a little better than my son and I (3-2) My son has little patience and I hate being outsmarted by a chicken.

I no longer bring the dog down to run in the orchard while I care for the chickens. He has a tendency to frighten them by running around their fenced area yelling, "Yummy, yummy, yummy" while the ladies scream and run away. Peace and love to you all....

School starts....

Many of you know I home schooled my kids through middle school. Mostly because my kids were the little quiet ones who got thumped by the other kids, but also because the school district was horrible. Foul language wasn't corrected, my daughter was being humiliated by a teacher because I reported her for her political indoctrination of the kids, oh and my son couldn't read. Yup, sixth grader who could not read. Anyway, my son rejoined public school at the high school level and now it is time for my daughter to become a freshman in high school (sigh) It's like kindergarten all over again. My baby is growing up, only this time instead of holding my hand and hiding behind me, she is pulling away from me and running down the path.

She'll be fine, I know, but will I ? What will I do with all of the time I no longer have to spend on lessons and grading? I have my dog and the cats (no one is willing to claim them any more) and I have my chickens. The house needs to be repainted and the carpets need cleaning, the windows are filthy and the garden needs weeding. The driveway needs to be.... hey, wait a minute, can I go back to school too? I could use the rest.

So I went down to the high school to enroll my baby....I mean daughter. We squared our shoulders after spending two weeks looking for all of the documents we would need. Our hands were sweating as we drove to the school. When I say we I mean me, she was grinning and chattering away like a happy little bird filled with excitement and anticipation. After solemnly walking up the path to the office (me again) we saw the sign, "Office closed until 12:30" Yeah !...I mean aww, too bad. We went home for lunch and are getting ready to go back.

I have my baby for a few more hours before I have to give her to the world... and get to work. Peace and love to you all.....

Happy Birthday toooooo meeeee......

I got a new screen door...wahooo. Now before you all start blinking rapidly and scratching your head, my front door is over sized. There are no openable windows (is that a word?) for ventilation on that wall, so a screen door is a real treat, and since it is a custom door...very costly. My sweet husband saved up and installed it yesterday; it is beautiful. I am very lucky and thankful. And now on to the news, the dog needs glasses because he can't see the screen door and walks into it all of the time. This is the new entertainment program for us all. We open the door, sit down and call the dog. Thump! Good thing it has a pet screen in the bottom. And speaking of dumb animals, the egg layer or fancy chicks, as my daughter calls them, keep getting out of their brooding enclosure and now are wandering around the garage. My son opened the garage to put the car away and had to leap from the car and chase chickens around. You would think in 104 degree heat they would not be very fast, but they are and that boy can move pretty quickly too. The Cornish chicks (meat birds) are not interested in escape. They grow three times as fast as the fancies and are in metabolism overload. They waddle around, panting, barely covered by their feathers because of their rapid growth. They remind me of pregnant women in their tenth month. They look at me as if to say, I am miserably hot , go ahead and eat me...just do it !! Poor things. I will have the fence up around the coop tomorrow and they can o play outside in the fresh air. Watch out for the hawks little chickies....Peace and love to you all....

Be on the look out for escapees...

I go to the hardware store to get pea gravel to set the coop in. It needs to be level or the chickens will keep falling over...not really, I just can't stand seeing it all tipped like that. When we get home I check on the chicks. One of them is loose in the bathroom where they are staying. Not in a panic or anything, just shuffling alone looking for something to eat and drink. My son grabs her and puts her back where she can meet those needs. Boy are chickens poor planners. On the other hand my chick brooding enclosure no longer serves its purpose. That was quick. It is kind of like trying to keep your teenager in shoes. Just when you think everything is okay, one little piggy goes weee, weee, weee need a bigger place to be. Oh well, good thing he caught her or we might have to put out an Amber Alert. Peace and love to you all.....

Must stay flexible....

We were supposed to have our new screen door today. Apparently it won't be in until Wednesday.... Thursday at the latest. Okay, I'm a tree, I can bend. I'm glad I'm not a chicken, when they get upset they pick at each others feathers, ouch.

We had our first BIG FIRE last week, the ones up until then, caused by the lightening... not considered BIG. Luckily we had firefighters still here from the "not big fires" and they handled the BIG FIRE quite well. My son and I were out pulling weeds as a Cal fire truck roared by. We looked up and he asked, "I wonder where they are ..." when we saw where they were ... Just over the top of our neighbors house was an enormous plume of gray and brown smoke. Then the local volunteers with their Structure Fire Engine flew by. We knew it was a house. About 6 more Cal fire engines, but we heard the distant sirens and we knew it was bad, very bad. My daughter called her friend, who's house was even closer, and left a message that she and her family and pets had a place to come if they needed. Then we got called by friends offering us the same kindness. That was when I became worried. I called my husband and said he should come home if he could.

All worked out fine. The wind changed, the humidity climbed, the water bombers dropped their precious loads and more firefighters came. They came from as far away as San Diego. We attached a sign to our mailbox that said simply " THANK YOU ! " Thank you to the firefighters, the local contractors who rushed in with their water tankers, thank you to our neighbors, to Mother Nature and mostly Thank You, God. We are safe, we are well and only the first house was lost. A firefighter was badly injured when he was hit by a fleeing resident, but is expected to recover.

So my chickens are picking, no screen door, but, I have my family, my friends, my house and my pets (including a dog who has ear mites again). What should you do in such a situation? That's right, see a movie. "The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel". See it, not just for the wonderful actors or the colorful location, but because it is a good story told well.

And stay flexible, peace and love to you all...

THE CHICKS ARE HEEEEERE !!!

Well, I admit it, I'm into chicks now...I mean baby chickens, gosh what evil minds you all have. I got the call from the post office and hurried down like an expectant grandmother. The postal clerk said, "Oh yes they are here, but they escaped. Let me just round them up for you" Ha,ha everyone is a comedian. They were all chirping their heads off. I gave them the supplement recommended by the hatchery and they all started running around their enclosure like,...chickens without heads. My kids came out to see and pet them and both wanted the same one. Oh well, what is a family without a little disharmony? The best part is that my son is inspired to finish the coop and really wants to tackle the greenhouse conversion to hen house. And my daughter is in love...with about half of them. Sorry, hon your looking at some future dinner there. Peace and love to you all....

Chicken Coop 101...

I had the boys working on my new layers chicken coop. It isn't too fancy nor is it hi tech. I'm not looking for bells and whistles just fresh eggs. My son asked for a drawing and my husband asked for some specific needs for the chickens to be explained. Simple right? My son measured and cut and he and a friend assembled. I pointed out the advantage of measuring again, but to no avail. Luckily my husband provided engineered assembly hardware. While the errors are mathematical they are small enough to go unnoticed to the average eye...not my husband's eye, but the average eye.

"It's not plumb, it's not square...it's not right" he said with a disappointed glare.

" It is, however, a chicken coop, "I said," and therefore, perfect".

He trimmed off high edges and overlapping corners with his Skill saw,

"Don't you ever do this with a saw!" He said to the boys as he pulled back the safety guards and held the saw upright for a vertical maneuver never intended for this machine.

" He's a trained professional, "I murmured.

"Don't try this at home." The boys joined me in muttering.

The chicks should be here this week and we are all quite excited. The dog is pacing and keeping the cats away from the door 'just in case'. They will be too small for the coop to begin with, but they will grow quickly. In a way, it feels like coming home. Peace and love to you all.....

P.S. If you want to watch chickens in a backyard hen house go to:

http:// hencam.com/

WHY, OH WHY DO THINGS CHANGE ?......

I logged in to my blog to publish a post and was notified that the blog format was changing....AGAIN !

"Change is not fine, they say it is, but IT IS NOT" Sheldon Cooper

I am an old....I mean, older person and I don't deal well with change. I can't stand that the dish schedule keeps changing, so I have discontinued my dish. I refuse cell phone upgrades and I don't want a new car with sat/nav. And not just changes, but rapid changes, we just updated the blog and I had to learn everything again. And why are they calling it an update. To me, an update means an improvement of existing options. Perhaps more font colors or sizes, not a complete restructuring of the whole process....pant, pant,... I can't spend my whole life relearning what I just lernt... I mean learned. No wonder nothing ever gets done, you can't do it that way any more.

On the bright side, my garden needs refreshing (not rip-out and start over) cleaning up and improving fence posts and gate, etc. I'd like to add a few raised boxes and put weed block and gravel between the existing boxes. You know, make it more user friendly, easing the transition between current and future usage. To create a higher output without....oh fudge, I'm becoming one of them. Must keep focus...I'm going to go play in the dirt for a while.

Peace and love to you all...

We're having a heat wave, a tropical heat wave...

So it is hot outside....it is July, what did you expect. The year I moved into my house, it was 110 f on the second week of July...and the AC failed. That's why I remember it so well. I go back and look at the weather journal I kept and wonder why today is complained about at 99 f ? Grab a sweater, this ain't hot. When did everyone become such a bunch of pansies? Before central heat and air people adapted or endured. My mother was pregnant with me in August (she says it was her 12th or 13th month) in New Jersey, in an attic apartment, with no air-conditioning. Upper 90's with ninety percent humidity, that was one tough momma. Now, it starts to rain and people grab life jackets, it gets a little warm and they are screaming "global warming". What a bunch of Drama Queens, no one knows how to cope any more. How has the human race survived ? We have had refrigeration in our homes for how long? Honestly people, get a grip. Where I live we had ice and frost until the last week of April and people were moaning about how spring would never come.

How on earth do the people of the tundra or the deserts survive? Well, they don't just stand around wringing their hands, that's for sure. Go do something, even if it is just sitting on your porch with an iced tea waving at the neighbors. You remember neighbors, right ? Those people you used to talk to before face book, yup them's the ones. I'll just keep putting one foot in front of the other until I can't pick-em up any more. Then I'm gettin' me some wheels and I'm targeting some toes,"Oops, didn't see you there. That looks painful". People need to toughen up a little. Now that it is cooler outside, I need to take my precious pup for a walk. What a wimp, "IT'S ONLY 99 DEGREES, DON'T MAKE ME DRAG YOU !!!" Peace and love to you all...

That's good....

My Mom is in the hospital...that's bad...but I went to visit her...oh, that's good...but I was stuck in traffic for 4 hours...that's bad...but I got to see her...oh, that's good...and my husband FILLED my car with errands to run for him while I was there...WTF??!! Any way my mom is getting better and all is right in my world.

We are going to raise chickens this summer for MEAT. yummy. My son wants to name the biggest one "Fat Bastard", but I warned him you really can't name something you are going to eat. Oh, no, I guess you all know what you're getting for Christmas....

The other thing is my kids and I have taken healthy measures in our lives. We no longer drink soda...well, for the summer. We are just concerned with all of the sugar in everything. I could not care less about what kind of sugar it is we are using. High fructose, sucrose, lactose what ever "tose" you use it is sugar in your body. Period. So we are cutting back and ...good news... we have all lost weight.

So, we grow our own veggies and we will have our own chicken meat, and eggs. We are thinking about rabbit meat as well and my daughter and I are researching goat cheese ....de,da,de,de ....no you will not be seeing us on the side of the drive way with banjos. I just like the idea of my kids knowing where their food comes from. Peace and love to you all....

Sharks in the kitchen...

I picked baby boy up from summer camp..."Mom....what did you do to your finger?" Well, you see there was this shark, that's what we call the mandolin slicer. I was slicing some onions and the onion rolled...there went the tip of my finger. It flew, ever so gracefully, into the sink and sat there like half of a sliced grape. The blood began, my daughter screamed and ran away, I grabbed my finger to stop the blood. I looked down into the sink and saw the disk of flesh that used to be a part of my finger and now would never be again. I live in the country in Real ville, there is no way a hand surgeon is going to meet me at the hospital (1.5 hours away) and reattach a half grape to the end of my ring finger, right hand or not. I doubt that it would have worked anyway.

After many layers of gauze and much tape, it stopped bleeding, but not throbbing. Had to hold my hand up all day to reduce swelling. Strangers waved at me all day thinking I was waving at them. The grocery store cashier, who is a teacher during the school year, kept saying, "Yes? Do you have a question?" And, to everyone I know, I had to explain the whole icky story as each in turn shivered when I got to THE SLICING part. (ack, I just did it again) And a word of warning, it seams there is a blood vessel that runs through the forth finger so there will be a LOT of blood if you decide to try this activity. Also there is a nerve that runs through this finger . When I bump "my boo boo" I have an electric jolt running through my hand up to my shoulder causing me to burst into tears. If you see me, don't be alarmed. I'm not waving at strangers, nor am I experiencing hormonal fits of crying. I'm just an idiot recovering from a shark attack. Peace and love to you all....

Tough Guy....

I sent my baby boy off to summer camp at Catalina Island. Big tough guy, I hugged him and said, "Don't do anything that you would be embarrassed for me to know about". He smiled and said , "Sure, Mom, bye-bye". He didn't hug me back and kept his sun glasses on. Tough guy, you know, everyone is watching. I told him I wouldn't leave the parking lot until he pulled out. Then I noticed he was watching me. He walked over to the scoutmaster's suburban, his head turned slightly in my direction. He climbed in and ducked his head down so he wouldn't break eye-contact. Then, he gave me the tiniest little wave, sat down and closed the door. As they pulled out he turned around in his seat and looked at me once more, yeah, I'm here, like I said I would be...tough guy. I watched until they disappeared in the distance, then I drove home. It was an hour and 30 minute drive...I cried the better part of an hour...I'm a tough guy too I guess.

My son called on Sunday morning and wished his father a Happy Father's Day. His voice was gruff and gravelly. His father didn't recognise him at first, then he did and his eyes filled with tears. "Oh, he remembered" my husband said, quite choked up. Tough guy. The dog jumped on my son's bed and began to whimper. He isn't a tough guy and isn't shy about the fact.

My daughter shrugged her shoulders, "He'll be back in a week...lighten up"... Now that's a tough guy... peace and love to you all...

Passwords...

I forgot my password...yep, I did. And I was locked out of my own computer. Did you know that if you fail to give the right password several times in a row, you are locked out. That's right, push off... nothing to see... get lost pal. So I called my daughter in and she got me back into my computer. (Jeez Mom, your so lame) Any way, then I found out it might not have been me. That's right, my inter net access was hacked. I received an email that contained a tracker and accessed my contacts. Then it spammed everyone in my address file. The AT&T filters picked up on it and shut off my service. Then they notified me of the action...by email...that I couldn't access... Ah modern technology.

My husband dropped his phone. It is an industrial phone used by the military, it can withstand a fire fight, total submersion and magnetic interference. Just don't drop it when it is open. Nope, that will kill it. So, off he ran to the techno-store only they don't have that phone available any more. They showed him frilly, frou-frou phones that make coffee and do your ironing. The problem is they could break if you actually touch them as they are made off tissue and air. My daughter was able to find a phone that worked just fine "and it's pretty". So, she got an upgrade and my husband struggled with a "piece of crap" until he could find a phone that would work for him. We told him, just get one that does what you want and get insurance for it. The salesman said to just get a cover for it that would protect it, then he threw his own phone across the room at the wall. His phone was fine and my husband was impressed. But, he still wanted his old phone. He has a new phone now and complains that it isn't the same, but it is better than nothing.

I am considering... nothing. I am sick of technology. I want to be able to go somewhere and not be available. I do not want to have to remember passwords, PIN numbers, code keys and access numbers. All of this convenience is very inconvenient. I have to carry a code book just to have access my own life.

AT&T sent us a new wireless broadband modem for the new service it is offering. Well, offering isn't the right word, we are required to take this service and the new equipment, period. So...guess who had to set it up. And they require new passwords...oh dear. Not to worry they have security questions. The account is in my husband's name though I am the primary user. How am I supposed to know what his mother's favorite song was or what color his grandfather's first car was? Honestly, I think I will stay with my tried and true password *PASSWORD*. It works for me and I can usually remember it. Don't tell anyone though, very hush hush.

Peace and love to you all....

Election Time Again...

And so we come to another "election". The big heated debate in our area- Prop 29. The tobacco tax. The proponents say, "It will fund research", the opponents say "It is just another tax to impart morality". I think we should just look at the history of these "special" taxes. Remember 9/11? The two towers were hit by planes destined for California. So, the state proposed a special license plate "tax" to fund scholarships and what-not for the families of the victims. Last week it was disclosed that the funds were being "borrowed" to pay part of the deficit that California has accrued because of run-away spending. Hmmm, probably won't affect prop 29 money. After all that money is ear-marked for the families of the victims of tobacco.

California, were they keep doing the same thing expecting a different result. My father-in-law, (RIP) said he had to vote for Brown because "that woman" was going to spend all of his money. Hmmm, well that isn't happening now, is it?

America used to be founded on the principals of Liberty and supported by new ideas. We have politicians who are in place for DECADES. They lay around and maintain the status quo. And the people are glad to keep it in place. To have re-elected Brown, a man who nearly bankrupted the state before... this state is silly. And when they run out of other people's money?

Peace and love to you all....

Step Right up...

Sorry about being late, but we have been very busy, busy, busy. I've been researching which chicken breeds would thrive here. Yogi is reading over my shoulder,

"Chickens, uh, I like chickens. Tastes like chicken."

And the garden has come alive with chard and lettuce, and the tomatoes are ripening on the vine.

"Hey, get back to the chickens", Yogi whimpers in my ear.

I plan to add chickens to our compound and rabbits, and maybe goats too.

"Ooooh, rabbits, tastes like chicken", Yogi is drooling on my shoulder.

Anyway, that is the goal, I'm just trying to decide about whether to have a coop or tractor for the chick...

"Chickens! I love chickens!!" Okay, Yogi, we all know you like chicken.

Calm down and stop dancing the cha-cha. The difference is that a tractor is like a movable house for the...shhh,...chickens. This gives you "free range" with out so much predator trouble. Then I will need to order the varieties. Some layers and some meat-chickens...

"MEAT ! Yup, chickens have tasty meat. Can I have some?"

He is so cute when he tilts his head that way. So now I'm headed back to the garden for some veggies,,,

"Yuck! I don't like veggies",

It is okay Yogi, I won't make you eat them. Peace and love to you all....

Join Boy Scouts...it is economical...

Yup, that's what they told me. I took the Scout Parent program and the main thrust was "economics". Football costs exceed $500 and there is no guarantee that your kid will play...or even be any good. Basketball and baseball camps are out of sight in their costs and soccer, give me a break. But scouting, $15 bucks (ten when we signed up our son). Yup, $15 bucks and you are good to go....oh, and a handbook ($15), otherwise the little tike won't know what to do. (and $12 for Boy's Life because only Boy's Life readers really get scouting) But that is ALL YOU NEED for your kid to make it in scouting. $15-$45 dollars...that is it....really.

Of course you will want your precious to be able to wear their accomplishments...right? Well, then you need a uniform, shirt, pants, belt and socks, SOCKS? Oh yes, socks, not hat or neckerchief, those items are optional except that the scoutmaster and troop will embarrass you into buying them. Oh, did I mention the patches for the shirt are extra? One uniform, $100. Oh, don't forget the sash or you won't be able to wear your merit badges. Cha-ching.

Okay, so you are still ahead, right? Well, were are you sending your son for summer camp? Has the troop made a choice? Does it offer the badges your son wants? More importantly, does it have running water? Showers, a working sewer system? How much did you say that was? Well, at least they teach leadership...maybe. If you really want your son to learn something, you will need to send him to a leadership program. NYLT- National Youth Leadership Training followed by NAYLE- National Advanced Youth Leadership Experience. These are exceptional instruction programs... if you can afford them. Okay, about 4 years of scouting, with leadership classes, about $2000. Then there is the cost of merit badges and camping experiences, let's say another $1000, but that is it...except for the new uniforms for growth and the second uniform required for National Camps (cha-ching) camping gear (oh dear lord, I have to sell a kidney) Oh, did you want to go to a Jamboree, chance of a lifetime experience, shouldn't be missed ? That alone costs about $3000.

Perhaps your son heard about a special camp with unique merit badges, $750 no refunds, even if you find out that your son can't participate in that "special merit badge" after the fact. Like my son did. The camp offers SCUBA, $ 750 for the camp including travel, $350 for the SCUBA certification, plus merit badge cost, online test and additional medical permission forms.... Oh well, at least it didn't cost as much as say...private school. And you learn so much. The BSA scouting program is an exceptional program for youth to learn. It is inexpensive (yeah, right) teaches leadership (if you can afford it) offers unique experiences (again if you can afford it) chance of a lifetime ($$$)

Of course you as an adult must participate or you won't have any idea what these volunteers are teaching your son. My son learned about nepotism, lying, bullying, breaking rules (and laws) disunity and alcoholism from some of his leaders. But after much searching he found a good leader and a nice troop. He earned his Eagle with palms and had some fun. But, was it worth it? He will have to be the judge.

His grandfather, father and uncles all earned their Eagles for what we spent on one year of scouting. But he learned some things too. As to whether he could have learned this thing else where, only time will tell. Scouting is on the decline, too expensive, unreliable, poor quality adult involvement, moral turpitude who can say. I saw it in Girl Scouts pushing cookies and now in Boy scouts pushing camps. But at least it teaches economics...

Peace and love to you all....

Mother's Day...

Does anyone know why Mother's Day breakfasts become so much better as the children grow up? I do. When the kids are small you will get a breakfast that can be lethal in large portions. It includes coffee (or tea) with grounds floating in lukewarm fluid, presumably water, but it could be soda. Runny eggs with shells and a mound of salt accompany charcoal toast which is consumed as a poison control. Oatmeal-crete which is used to balance the tray on your lap, please don't eat this. Luckily there is a vase with a single flower present as well, this is delicious and can help sustain you until lunch.

The true purpose of the "early Mother's Day breakfast" is to toughen you for the latter years. After the cozy and cushy time of gestation, delivery and the terrible twos, you need to go to Mother's Day boot camp to prepare you for the TEENS. These early breakfasts help you to stomach the later years.

This Mother's Day I was served a perfect cup of coffee, followed by fluffy, bright yellow and flavorful scrambled eggs. These eggs were joined by a STACK!! of beautiful, light, golden and perfectly round pancakes...butter gently melting across the top. The sun was glowing through the window; the birds were twittering in the trees and I could smell the new rose blooms through the open window. + sigh +

Then in the distance I could hear, " ...my card first, I made the pancakes so I go first..." overlapping, " Oh I don't think so, eggs are harder to make." Followed by, " BITE ME !!, you never vacuum when mom asks so she doesn't love you as much as me", "oh yeah, well I always take out the garbage, you should be happy I don't take YOU TOO!!"... Ahhh, now that's why I need a more nutritious breakfast. This is REAL motherhood. It requires the wisdom of Solomon, the patience of Job and the first aid kit of a licensed paramedic. Hope your day was a great as mine was. Peace and love to you all.....

CONFIRMATION !!!...

My daughter was confirmed yesterday. She was up early, hair and makeup perfectly applied, dress, excuse me "The Dress" carefully slid past hair and makeup. She was beautiful. She glowed and her eyes sparkled. I gave her a silver and turquoise cross on a silver chain. Tears formed in her eyes, "Thank you mommy, I'm really pretty now. It is all perfect. But you better get dressed or I'm leaving your butt behind".

We had to be there very early so that they could get their last instructions, and get lined up. It was a good thing too, the place was packed. There was an antique car show at the museum next door and the patrons were using the church's parking lot. The entire drive to church my daughter kept repeating, "Please don't let the Bishop choose me...please don't let the Bishop choose me.." Guess who he chose?

The Bishop cast his beady eyes across the teenagers and came to rest on my daughter. He walked forward like a cat approaching a little sparrow that had fallen from it's nest. He extended his hand, bending slightly forward and said, "Would you like to come up here and talk with me, young lady?" My daughter made a soft response. The Bishop's face, which was wearing a gleeful little smile in anticipation of the torment he was preparing, suddenly fell in confused sadness. "Did you say 'No'?" he asked with a squeaky voice and a trembling lower lip. I thought I could see a tear welling up in his confused little eyes.

She did not say no, she went up and answered his questions pretty well and he thanked her. She was surprised at how easy it was. We went home, changed clothes, (Mom, I'm so glad I didn't get the really high heels) had a party, had cake and shared stories of my baby growing up. The weather was perfect, the food was wonderful and my baby was beautiful

...peace and love to you all

Shopping with my Daughter...

Okay, so my daughter is being confirmed on Sunday.We NEEDED a dress and shoes plus any necessary support garments to make the dress and shoes functional. My daughter, understandably, has been researching, for months, appropriate dress/shoe combinations. Anyone who knows her, knows she is a force to be reckoned with, kinda' like hurricane Katrina. Fabric, color, style and cost have been the topic since New Year's Day. Now I love her beyond the reach of my own soul, but I was ready to hold a pillow over her precious little face...at times. When I say strong personality, I mean STRONG. Swartzenegger....weakling, Hercules...wimp, I'm talking strong here.

So I resign myself to hours of in-store comparison. We pull into a parking space by the front door. Walk in and there in front of us is "THE DRESS". There is one in her size. It has spaghetti straps which are not Catholic Church compatible, but on the way to the fitting room...little sea foam green sweater-jacket...perfect....on sale (really perfect),fit exactly right. Off to the shoe department. She finds the shoe she wants. heel waaaay too high. She was crushed because it wasn't available in her size. Then she sees a better shoe, heel much better too, and low and behold, they have her size. I mean does this kid have luck or what? The whole outfit was 1/3 of budget. I love this girl.

She was six and we went to a golf clinic...she won a set of clubs. She was seven and we went to the parish pic-nick, she won the raffle. She was eight and guessed the weight of a massive pumpkin, you guessed it she won...the pumpkin. She doesn't get it from me. I'm lucky to get a parking space in the parking lot at all. I am lucky in love only. *smile*....peace and love to you all...

Hello...is anyone listening?...

"...and don't forget the garbage, if we don't get it today we will have to wait until next week." No response. I am  talking  to my son about  his chores. He smiles at me and shrugs his shoulders. I can tell by his eyes  he has  no  idea  what  I  have  been  talking  about  for  the  last 10 minutes. "TAKE THOSE THINGS OUT OF YOUR EARS!!" I shout as I point to his ear with my right hand. He spins around  thinking  I am  pointing  behind  him ."No, no, no YOUR ears" I point to both of my ears. He looks confused  and tries  to look  around  me. I step  forward  and pull  the buds  from his ears with a 'POP'. I tell him he can't hear  me with them in his ears. "That  was  the point", he  says  with a laugh. Dear God, we are  raising a  generation of  people who  demand  dialogue  but  can't  hear  each other because of all of the music accessories.

My daughter breezes by, "Hey, did you empty the dish washer?" I get nothing. "HEY!", she jumps and looks at me with a hurt expression."Jeez, mom, why are you yelling at me?" Honestly, it's like living with chimps.Through all of that no body confirmed that a single chore was going to be done. They are smarter than they look.

When I was a  kid we  shared our  music with  absolutely everyone. The walls shook, the windows rattled and my  parents  knew we couldn't  hear  them. There was no guess work involved. My dad would walk in, snap off the stereo. The  music  ended  and  we  would  all  freeze  in  position  like meerkats surprised by the sudden appearance of a hungry jaguar. Now you run the risk of an injury by yanking ear-buds free from their tender resting place.

When we used to drive somewhere, we would all sing together from Elmo's Road Trip CD. Now they just turn on their personal devices and nod their heads to an undetectable beat. My back seat looks like a collection of bobble-heads. On the bright side there is much less arguing. So, reluctantly I will accept this accessory and not just because I won't have to listen to what they call music.

Later, I watch our dog leaping in the air, throw back his head and launch into a cha-cha he then twirled around, grabbed the cat and began to Salsa...alright who put the headphone on the dog?....peace and love to you all...