Drive Time.

We, The Bubba and I, are at hour 1.5 in the bedtime routine. Meaning I have been attempting to get him to go to bed for approximately one and a half hours. I know, I know...I'm a sucker when it comes to bedtime. And it's something that has come about in the past 6 months. For the first 2 years of his life, he went to bed and stayed there 9 out of 10 times with no problems. Now he has learned the age old trick of "Delay". And the determination with which he pursues this is amazing.
I watched an episode of "World's Strictest Parents" tonight, the show where bratty teenagers go to live with a family where the parents don't take any crap from bratty teenagers. And I realized I'd better straighten up my parenting before he's older and he starts acting like some of the fool teenagers on this show. You know the ones. The kids that will tell you their leg is broken and so they can't possibly put their dirty laundry in the laundry hamper. Or that they will just pass right out if they have to make their bed.
Poor little Bubba has no idea that all of his "book", "milk", "pee" is creating a strict parent monster out of me and I will happily tell him when he is 16 and sullen because I won't let him get that tattoo he justhastohavecauseallofmyfriendshavethempleasemom! that if he had just gone to bed without any delay when he was 2, I would just drive him myveryownself to the tattoo parlor.

Wedded Bliss

So yesterday was our 6th wedding anniversary. It was a fun filled day of dryer repairing and toilet cleaning. But I must say that I would gladly slide a trip to the Justice of the Peace in between wiping dried pee off the toilet and blowing dryer lint all over the place to marry my smooch all over again. No doubt about it.

Trick or Treat.

Over the past few weeks I have started a new job, had my car break down 3 times, learned that a favorite aunt had passed away and that some good friends are divorcing. I was quite impressed with myself that all of this had not caused me to hide in the closet sucking on a bottle of Stoli and beating my head against a wall. Then yesterday after I forced The Bubba, kicking and screaming, into a costume he didn't want to wear so we could go to perfect strangers houses and beg for candy, the camels back broke. Well actually the dryer broke. With a still wet load in it and another wet load in the washer. Yippee. So off we go to Grans house with two bags of wet laundry and an unhappy dinosaur. After dropping off the laundry to be dried and convincing The Bubba that he would have fun walking around in the itchy dinosaur head because people he doesn't know would give him candy we were off. For some reason I just wasn't in the mood to trick or treat but I must say some of the costumes were qtp2t. After an hour of begging oops I mean trick or treating we returned to our friends house with a mostly full pumpkin bucket. Victory is ours. And so are the fun size butterfingers. Now I just have to figure out how to make The Bubba understand that he shouldn't take candy from strangers.

Learning is fun. Right?

I'm going to try to link something here and I'm trying to decide what to link. hmmm.....
I guess I'll try to link to my new blog and see if that works for you. Here goes.
If you want to check out my new blog Little White Shed click the highlight.
Sorry it isn't all that exciting yet. I'm working on it. Check back often!

Random Photo

I'm slowly adding photos of Squeal like a Pig Lane.

This is the actual "lane". It began life as a runway for the plane owned by the originally owners.

  

And this is the tire swing installed by the current occupants.

The spiders love it.

I know some of y'all are getting quite sick of my procrastination in posting photos of our current digs, but I really am busy. Sort of. Anywho, I'm going to try to post photos as least once a week. So you'll just have to stay tuned.

Just call me Augustus Gloop.

I have been feeling a little nauseated today. No, I'm not preggers. So I ate a few hershey kisses. Yum. Felt a little better. Thought, "if a few make me feel a little better, more than a few will make me feel much better". Right? Wrong. Turns out that when you have a small bit of chocolate it will help you feel better. Thank you Harry Potter. And if you eat 104 Hershey kisses you will definitely NOT feel better. Yuck!

Retirement Plan

About 10 years ago a girl friend of mine and I were having a few adult beverages at a local bar/restaurant. The area we were sitting in was reached by 3 steps up to a raised platform in the center of the room. As we sat and sipped our cocktails we watched two women attempt to navigate their way down the steps. I know you're expecting to hear that they were drunk and fell down the steps and while one lady did stumble, it wasn't because she was drunk it was because she was 125 years old. It was at this point in my life that I devised my retirement plan. On my 65th birthday I plan to start the day, and every day thereafter with a big healthy glass of orange juice, mixed with a hefty amount of vodka. Then for lunch I will get my RDA of veggies with a big healthy glass of V8, mixed with a heftier amount of vodka. I figure by dinner with all the OJ and V8 I'll be able to enjoy my vodka on the rocks with a lime wedge just how I like it. Lest you think this plan is foolish, let me assure you that I have all the details worked out to perfection including but not limited to the hiring of a home health aide whose main resposibility will be to drive my drunk ass around and get me more vodka. I will continue to follow this plan daily until the end of time, all to be sure that I don't fall down because I'm old. Or at least not just because I'm old, but because I'm hammered.

And speaking of hammered. Unfortunately for me, when Aunt Flow comes to visit she packs a big sledgehammer and at some point during her stay she proceeds to beat the living daylights out of the left side of my brain. I have heard that migraines actually cause brain damage over time so you can bet I'll be sure to use that as my defense when I finally snap. It's also said that the left side of the brain controls verbal ability, attention to detail, and reasoning and the right side controls creativity and flexibility. So I figure with a migraine a month until "the change" by the time I reach 65 I'll be a mumbling, stuttering, mismatched sock wearing, "the sky is not blue" shouting, extremely famous abstract painter, who moonlights as a contortionist. Drunk will be an improvement.

Further proof...

that The Bubba is a reincarnation of a highly trained black ops mercenary. He just tried to put me in a sleeper hold and when that didn't work he pinched my carotid artery until I almost passed out. We're going to play with swords now.

Rest in Peace

Sunday, August 2nd, we lost someone tragically. He was a son, a brother, an uncle, a lover and a friend. And he was all these things so spectacularly I don't have the words to properly describe. Words can't envelope the feelings that he created in all of us that were so priveleged to know him.
We are all struggling so hard to move forward with the thought that he is no longer in our world. The tragedy is, however, all ours, since he lived his life truly, joyously and fully to the last moments.

I'm having good days and bad days and today is a bad day. I'm just so sad that I won't get to see him again in this life. That my son won't get to know him as we do. That my husband will ache with missing him. That we will all ache with missing him.

On the good days I can be grateful to have known him, and for the gifts of laughter he gave us. For the "good energy" he put out for all of us to share. I can celebrate the amazing life he lived, the places he went, the people he touched, and the waves he conquered. The best friends he turned into family for all of us. And especially the woman he loved.

Dude, we'll miss you doesn't even begin to cover it.

I'm baaaack.

IT's been quite a while since I've posted and I've felt only a bit guilty about that. Especially in view of the fact that I only have 2 official followers. Since we last spoke, The Bubba, MotHman and I have moved from Florida to Delaware. The past 2 months have been filled with change. Bubba started preschool then resigned. I started a job then resigned. And MotHman has been surfing every chance he gets. Hmmmm. Seems like he may be having more fun than Bubba and I. We are trying to figure out our life here on the east coast. I'm working hard on a new business venture. I'll share the details later. And no it's not prostitution. MotHman is steadily knocking things off the TO DO list, though it may realistically take him 57 years to fully complete. And Bubba is fully invested in the age old ritual known the world over as "The TERRIBLE Twos".
While all of this change could easily lead me down the road of sobbing, head banging and major alcohol addiction, I'm looking at my life through the lens of fodder for my blog. Not to say that there won't occassionally be sobbing and a little head banging, preferably against a soft surface. And there will definitely be a good strong relationship with "the creature" as our ancestors called it. Speaking of which, it's probably 5 o'clock somewhere.