A Market for Roadkill.

     Last Sunday, we had the completely brilliant and inspired idea, that it would be FUN, to take the kids to church, followed by Jasin's Family picnic, followed by the Erie County Fair, (a Fair that is so big, that we have never ever dared take the children there before, because, before last Sunday, we obviously had brains.) followed by grocery shopping, followed by work first thing Monday morning.

     While at the Fair, Bearded Man took the kids through the Conservation building, while I wandered out to watch three young men hurtle themselves off of a platform and onto a small trampoline, while doing dangerous things that has probably caused no end cardiac issues for their poor mother, and they will probably have to go to hell for such thoughtless torture.
     Two of my offspring came running out of the Conservation building all excited and waving something. It seems that the Conservation people were giving away small pieces of fur to small children who matched animal parts correctly, or some such thing. And, I swear, all I could think, was that someone, someplace, was driving along the road, zoned out and listening to Country music, and noting all the road kill, and had a light bulb moment of inspiration, to put it to use. Waste not, want not, and all that. He probably had a beard, too.

     Since it's been awhile since I have been able to update this, I imagine something of note must have happened over the last few weeks. For instance, George has done a little investigating at church. And loudly announced the results very loudly in the middle of a quiet part during Mass: "See, Mom? I checked under the bench, since I was being bad, and, there are no monsters here, like you said there were!" followed by a rousing rendition of " 'Ol Red", the popular Blake Sheldon tune.
    
     My days at the Buffalo VA are winding down, faster than I want them to. Which means that I will no longer be part of the Peacock saga every night, on my drive home.
     As long as I can remember, there has been this place on Rt 16, that has had peacocks. Since I have started working in Buffalo, there has been a white peacock, that usually has the full fan open in all it's glory, on my way home from work.
     One night, I finally stopped, to get a better look. And I still cannot decide which I feel sorrier for. I think about it all the time, and I can see it from both sides. Because, there, in the corner, was this poor peahen, simply trying to do her thing, and peck at the ground or whatever it is they do, and there, hovering over her, was this giant peacock with the tail open and curving toward her. And he looked so desperate, as she ignored him. And this happens every night. He harasses her; she ignores him. It's pitiful. She just wants to be left alone, and he just wants to be noticed. Were they humans, there would totally be lots of dramatic Facebook statuses, and a restraining order. Probably some medications, and maybe some alcohol. It will probably never ever end. How exhausting.
    
  While completely sad about leaving the hospital, I have started to train at the new position. And am pleased to report, that there is a water cooler that has hot water. The fact that there can be tea is highly encouraging. I can deal with just about anything, with a decent cup of tea. There is a serious lack of accessible chocolate, but, I need to start training for the Mudderella, anyhow.

     Ah, the Mudderella. It came up on my Facebook, as a suggested page. After clicking on it, I decided that, 5-7 miles through mud and obstacles sounded fun. Seriously. Where the hell are my brains lately? So, I had the brilliant idea, that, before I could talk myself out of it, I should start a team. Beginning with my little sister. Then some girls I work with. And now, I am committed, and need to start training, because, less than 10 months is probably enough to make sure I will live through it, but probably not excel at it. And, if my old next door neighbor could run races while pregnant, and still look like a model, then, I can do this, too. (Seriously, the old next door neighbors were privately called "The Perfect People". They were quiet, and had model children, and all ate healthy, and looked healthy, and their gardens were perfect, and house was perfect, and I swear, it was like living next to a Disney story. If they weren't so darn nice, they would have been awful. If the people next door were a Disney story, then, that kinda made me one of the evil villains. Or, at least one of the inconsequential villagers, filled in with sub-par details, to make the back round up for fillers. Anyhow, they moved, and, in looking at their Facebook statuses, it looks like the fairy tale continues. I imagine woodland creatures follow them around their new country home.) Perfect neighbors aside, I have decided in a moment of insanity, that I need to get fit, and I need to commit to this, and I need to take others with me. (it's sort of a requirement, actually. If you don't show up with a partner, then you go stand over by a group of pitiful partner-less people, and buddy up with them. There could probably be an entire series of Blogs about that sort of social trauma.) And, since I now have the pressure of all these people expecting me to do more than cheer on the sidelines, while drinking Pepsi doctored with Captain Morgan, I have to get at it. I even bought a book about getting fit. And read it over TWIX bars. Because, I am all about baby steps. I signed up. I bought a book. I created a team. See? Progress! I have decided that I will start with my new job in Olean. Get up early, do the whole run/walk/bend over dry heaving and wheezing while neighborhood dogs bark at me, till their angry recently awoken owners yell at them, and curse at me. I have this whole plan. See? Another step.
     But then it will snow. And it will just be too awful to go for a nice relaxing run. So, maybe I should just wait till March, and give myself a solid 2 months to train. See? A backup plan! We will see how this goes. I honestly would like to give it a try.

     In other news, the Mormons have not come to scrape anything yet. It's back on the list of things to nag Bearded Man about. I think, judging by all the lumber in my driveway, that he must be a mis-placed logger. Sometimes he rearranges the wood piles, to make it look like he's making progress on the shed. It has a floor, and the skeleton of one wall up. But, he thinks maybe he needs a power air gun, to do the job properly now. It's okay though. Once this shed goes up, I have noticed that it is directly next to my lone kitchen window. My view will be a shed, and the neighbor's garage. I will take the natural light while I can get it. Someone suggested maybe hanging pleasant scenery pictures in the kitchen window, and back lighing them. This has possibilities. I could go anywhere, really. It could be educational for the children. We could spotlight different countries and cultures and landmarks, and learn all about them. It will improve their grades, IQ's, knowledge and culture awareness. I think I should buy Bearded Man an air gun. For the Children's sake.

     My truck and I are back on speaking terms. I recently spent an entire afternoon scrubbing it, vacuuming it, cleaning it, and shining it. When I was quite finished, I hooked the controls back up to the window, and Saints be Praised! THEY WORKED! As did the electrical system again. Obviously my truck is speaking to me again. I have decided it no longer needs to be shoved into a large body of water. Or set afire. Or replaced.

     Also of note, is that I have put up, to the tune of a lot of criticism, my fall decorations. Hear me out, people. First of all, reality check. It's cold out. The leaves are falling. The days are speeding up toward back to school, and I have yet to purchase so much as a pencil. Which will be followed by the panic of Christmas, which will feel like it's next week. So, I decided, since I had a day off, ambition, and burned out twinkle lights in my living room that needed to be changed (It is NOT acceptable to my psyche to have those lights in non working order.) it was time to just pull out my stuff and put it up while I was at it. And now it looks nice, and I don't have to deal with it later. Because, eventually my second job for weekends will kick in, and my spare time will consist of week day evenings. So. Fall stuff up, lights back to working, psyche intact, plans to exercise made, I am happy. Which means everyone in my household is happy. Criticize if you need to; but it may be the difference between George seeing the light of day, or basement time with the clowns....
    
    
    

Drug Testing

     Yesterday, I had to go get a drug test for one of the side jobs. I confuse myself sometimes, trying to keep track of these jobs and all the stuff that goes along with obtaining them, and where/when they are all located. I find, that if I don't think about it too hard, it is not hard to keep track. But if I actively try to keep track of it all, it gets confusing. So, like a complete flake, I float through it all, because if I think about it, I will need medication. Lots of it, I imagine.

      So, off I drive, WITH NO KIDS!!!!!! (Which immediately felt like a treat. There are probably other moms out there who would consider a child-less drug testing a mini vacation as well.) I encounter a very nice technician, who is very pleasant, until she asks me if I have ever had a drug test before. Without even THINKING about it, I announce "Oh yes! I've had lots of them!" Which does not convey 'Yes, I have been tested before, for various jobs, as I am in Nursing, and we tend to get tested at the start of every job, and then randomly, and I am completely on the up and up, and not some crazed druggie who is going to steal your family's pain medications, to feed my addiction.' No, this completely conveyed that 'Oh yeah, all my baby daddies insist that I get tested regularly, and stay on the wagon, or I am one test away from losing my child support and government benefits'. Vacation over. This lady was probably checking me for needle marks. It was something of a relief, to leave that particular vacation.

     On the 'Up' side, the lab was situated right off the driveway to Lowe's, so, since I was alone and childless, went in to check paint samples. And here, is where I am going directly to hell. Let's veer off course for a minute, as I explain about the Mormons.

     There are these very nice Mormon boys who wander over to the house every so often. I have very dear friends who are Mormon, so, I always talk to these boys, as they are friends of my friends. With the absolute clarification that I will stay Catholic, and they can stay Mormon, and we can all co-exist happily doing what we do. So, they kind of visit, I try to keep George from tormenting them too much, and then they go on their way.
     This past weekend, our Mormon friend's son was married, and we went to the wedding. Eric (The groom) had babysat for us, before going off to the Air Force, and we were all happy to see him home again, before he and his new wife head to Little Rock to live with the Air Force. And, while sitting there, the Mormon boys that visit wandered to our table. They inquired when it would be a good time to come over and visit, and I let them know that I will be working most of the time, so I really won't be home much. At which they asked what they could possibly do to make life easier for me. "What can we do?" They asked, "We are here to HELP people, and do stuff, and it's part of our mission!" They kept asking, and finally, without even thinking, I just burst out, "Well, the house needs scraped!" OMG. I am so going to hell. I immediately tried to retract that statement, as Bearded Man tried not to kick me under the table. I felt AWFUL. I cannot have these poor guys scraping my house! I feel like I would have to turn Mormon, to pay them back, and, while I LIKE my Mormon friends, I like being Catholic, and seriously, these are the types of things that land people in hell. If the sound of scraping did not sound like nails on a chalk board to me, I would have done it myself. (I tried, and it was bad. George tried, and announced he is still a kid, and doesn't have to do it yet.) Bearded man did enough scraping to make the house look haunted, announced it hurt his eyes to scrape when the sun was shining on the house (I did point out that there are 3 other sides, but, it didn't seem to make a difference.) Bearded man has announced he might need a power pressure washer and a heat gun, and that maybe it will get done next year. He has decided to build a shed, in the meantime. So, the driveway is full of assorted lumber. And fix tractors too, so, there is usually a tractor in the driveway, too. I tend to get severe angina now, when I look at my house. So, here I was, at the wedding, I have two guys begging me to put them to work, and I announced my house needs scraping. Now I wish I would have just bought some aspirin for the angina. What kind of person uses a missionary to scrape their house?!
     They took my number, and said they would think about getting a group of 4 of them together some weekend, to come over and help scrape the house.
     Thus, I ended up at Lowe's, to scope out more paint samples, on the off chance the Mormons show up. I think, that if I have to go to hell over house scraping, that I am going to have to be honor bound to haunt it some day.
    
     Since I am not in hell yet, life goes on. I recently had 6 days on a row off, and tried to enjoy them before all the crazy jobs kick in. We picked lots of blueberries, lots of peas, and lots of raspberries. It took awhile, but we shelled 11.5# of peas, and all of this is sitting in my freezer. I want to do a bushel of peaches, too. As soon as I get the freezer stocked, I imagine we will have a massive power outage. That's just the way things happen around here.
    
     While off, I finally made it to the Science Museum to go see the Body World Vital exhibit. For those of you that don't know what that is; it is actual bodies and organs plasticized, and then put on display, to show the various systems/organs/etc. Either you think it's the coolest thing ever, or, you think it's creepy, and wonder what the hell is wrong with people. I tend to think it's cool.
     When we arrived at the museum, the deal was, I would go thru the exhibit, while Bearded Man took the kids around the rest of the museum. We have a membership there, so the kids always know where they want to go, and what they want to see. Lexi decided last minute that she wanted to go thru the Body World thing with me. I hesitated, but, she really insisted, so, I agreed to take her thru.
     I cringed a little, because, the first thing we saw when entering, were plaster molds of male and female bodies, with not a whole lot left to the imagination. I had completely forgotten that these displays were certainly not clothed. Naked dead people everywhere. Oh dear. It was okay though, as Lexi seemed to roll with it, and I was able to completely narrate everything, and she had the most amazing anatomy lesson ever.

     Over here, you see the nerves. If you look, you can see how they are connected to the spine....
 
     Look at the spine, you can see where it forms a bowl for the brain...

     Here is the brain, and what it looks like. And here is one after a stroke. See the difference?

     The digestive system...

     Bladder, kidneys...

     If you look here, you can see how the ligaments connect the joints...

     Here are the tendons...

Anyway, Lexi got the whole body explained to her. It was awesome. It felt so amazing, to have one of my kids seem to want to see this, and be interested and not freaked out, and seem to really pick it up. This was just wonderful.
     As we were leaving, I overhear Lexi whisper to Kaila; "Kaila! I saw lots of boy parts, and lots of girl parts, everywhere!!!!!"

     "LEXI!!!! That's ALL you picked up thru that entire thing??!!!"

     "Well, I saw bladders and kidneys and stuff too."

Interview with a (wanna be) Vampire

     Last Sunday, I thought it would be a brilliant idea, to take the family someplace fun for the day. It was one of those rare days when we were all together at the same time, and the weather was going to be decent.
     The kids were given several options for places to go, and the beach was chosen pretty much across the board. This sounded like lots of fun, and we headed to Sunset Bay, our favorite beach, about an hour and a half away. Shortly before leaving, I saw one of the kids had dug the sunblock out of the beach supplies, and told said child repetedly, to put it back.
     Fast forward an hour and a half, and, the previously mentioned child casually mentions the sunblock is on the dinning room table at home. That's okay, though. The entire beach is littered with half naked bodies lying around, like there had been a massive shipwreak full of scantily clad teenagers nearby. I could work with this. Instead of being this pasty albino person, I would just lie out and get a little color. It's been forever, since I had anything more than a "Farmer's Tan". How nice. A whole afternoon of lying around doing nothing.
     How absolutely boring. I left my book in the truck, several blocks away. I couldn't focus in the sun, to see my sand covered phone screen very well, and, how on earth did all these people just LIE there for hours and hours? What if, they were all dead? Or needing medical attention? They didn't move! If I had a body like these girls, I would have totally wouldn't have been lying face down in the sand for 4 hours. Beauty is wasted on the young.
     So, using this amazing imagination I have been blessed with, I pretended I looked like that, and layed out like everyone else. Getting up and doing the whole frolic in the water with the kids thing, every once in awhile.
     This was very nice, until my back and shoulders suddenly began to feel like I was getting stung by a million bees, while getting beaten with a wet towel. Home we headed, leaving all the bodies still lying on the beach. It didn't make the news, so, evidently they all eventually came to life and wandered away.

     Within 20 miles of home, it was becoming difficult to breathe. It felt like a large boulder was on my chest. And the sunburn was REALLY painful. And I could feel my heart beating a million miles an hour. Hell.
     By bedtime, I was so cold I couldn't bear it, in 90 degree weather, my heart was still beating crazily, and I was sick. Total sun poisoning. And, that color I was so thrilled about getting? Forget nice little touch of sun, and go right toward 'roasted on a spit over a pit placed someplace in hell' leaving ridiculous lines that will probably never fade, and forever assure that this Mama will never have topless pics taken.
     A friend of mine is an RN, and happened to text me that evening. She informed me I needed to get to the ER immedietly. Dehydration and all that.

     "No." I shook my head. "I cannot go to the hospital; I have an interview at work tomorrow." And, that was that. I HAD to go to work and make that interview! It was for a position with normal hours, way closer to home, and would be PERFECT for family life! No more going days and days without seeing my kids! I NEEDED to make this interview.

     Morning dawned, and I was in rough shape. I could not lift my arms, I could not tolerate water spraying on me in the shower, I could not do my hair, I looked absolutely awful; my hair frizzy,  my face red and shiny, my eyes red. I could hardly think, let alone speak in cohearant sentances. But, I was determined. I could totaly do this. And, off I went. Drinking lots and lots of Gatoraid, and downing Tylenol on the way.

     By interview time, I was feeling somewhat better. Checking the miserable hair, and applying lipgloss to the sunburned lips, (that looked like a cross between a red kool-aid musctache, botox gone bad, and chapped lips...) trying to order my face to look pale and not shiney, and trying to make myself walk like a human, and not Frankenstien, due to the intensely painful nature of the sunburn, I was off. I could do this. Right?

     Wrong. I tried so hard, to look like a normal human being. There was a panel of 3 people asking me a total of 10 questions, and my brain totaly did not want to work at warp speed. My brain was moving along the lines of Federal Government Speed. As in, 'I will get the answers to your questions back to you in an expidated manner, approximately 2-6 months from now' speed.
    Some of the queastions, I had amazing answers to! YES! I got this! Even with sun poisoning, I got this! HA!!
     Other questions, all I could picture in my head was blank white wall, blank sheets of paper, an endless sky of nothingness. I couldn't think of one inteligent word to save my life. I could see Meg Ryan, in "You've got Mail", typing away, and saying, "Nothing. Even hours later, I still have nothing!" I was so there. And, in all my delerious awesomeness, I could hear myself begin to babble.

     "Okay. Well. Hmmm. I'm not sure exactly what you are looking for specificaly with this question. Ummm. Well. There was this time when I - no no. That isn't it. Umm. Well! There was this OTHER time when. No, that's not it, either. Okay. Here's the thing. You want to know specific details of specific problems I have solved. Who thinks about these things?! Every day there are problems, and I solve them! It's part of the job! It's what we DO!"

     3 sets of eyebrows raised, and 3 people carefully set thier pens down, and I just knew I had just lost any chance at that position. I began to try to mentaly talk myself out of why that was okay though. I liked my current job, and co-workers and the drive on nice days, and what I do, and all the time off I get and being able to somewhat control what days I work....

     They told me I would know the results next week. And I left. Berating myself for the irresponsible stupidness of lying on a beach in peak sun burn hours with the body of a vampire. I'm a nurse! I know better! I am a Mom! I REALLY know better! What the hell was my problem? Of all the things to do the day before an interview! Nice going, Moriah. You rock.

     Two days later, first thing in the morning, I got the call: THE POSITION WAS MINE!!! How that happened, I will never know. I was sure I hadn't a prayer. Anyway, I start September 8.

     Pretty much, That's it. It's all I can think about since I got the call. That, and the sunburn. It's been miserable. But I have decided to live. I may or may not have gone all "Water Boy" on my kids, and told them the sun was obviously The Devil, but, they are young and resiliant. I am sure they will forget it eventually.

I was THAT Mom.

     Yesterday, I took the kids and went to Wal Mart. That sentence should inspire nods of immediate understanding in any parent who has ever had children and gone to a store with them.

     Lets backtrack a little. It was one of those days that the kids had been put to work doing chores, and helping out with housework - "I know where I REALLY came from! You bought me from the gift shop at a slave mansion!" - Lexi.
     The housework done, the kids were getting on each others' nerves, George was miserable, needed a nap and had no intention of taking one, and Joe was following me ALL. DAY. Whatever he had to say, he repeated at least 132 times, and pointed out every grammar slip, argued every other statement out of my mouth, and generally needed to find something, anything, else to do.

     Anyway, the kids were miserable, and we needed to run to Wal Mart, half an hour away, and needed to make it quick, as we had to get dinner into the kids, and then go to their baseball/softball award ceremony. And, Joe had $10.50.

     We arrive at Wal Mart, and I do the 'haul George through the window with the truck running, as the window situation continues to be at crisis level, and his door does not open, then reach in, close the window, then turn the truck off while trying to keep George from running off, while the other three children argue about various things', routine. And of course, Joe reeeeaaaaly wanted to spend his $10.50.
    
     Upon entering Wal Mart, I explain to Joe, (The "Because I said so" line does not work with that child. Either take the time to explain yourself, or deal with hours/days of arguments and questions. I realize that every single parent/non parent/or person able to read this is shaking their head in disgust, as this is such a huge example of textbook Bad Parenting, but, you know what? You don't know this kid. He won't stop, otherwise. If this makes you feel better about your own parenting, then, I am willing to take one for the team and be all Bad Parent, so you can be all Good Parent. We good? Okay.) I explain to Joe, that we do not have time for him to browse and spend his money, but, that I need to go back Saturday Morning, so, he can spend his money then.

     What about a banana? Can I just buy a banana?

     No.

     It's healthy, and good for me! I can just grab it now, and it won't take ANY extra time at all!
     No.

     How about ice cream? Can I buy myself some ice cream?

     No.

     What about if I buy some for everybody?

     No.

     Can I buy this guy? I have enough money!
 
     No.

     Mom, This is not taking any extra time. If I get it while we are walking by, you will not even have to stop!

     NO!

     Mom. How about socks? Can I buy myself socks?

     NO!

     Mom. I think I need socks.

     I said NO. I just bought you socks, recently!

     I have enough for these Legos! Can I buy them?

     No.

     Can I buy myself just one $0.99 box of candy?

     NO!!!

     Look. If I just buy these two boxes of tic tacs and a pack of gum....

     Joseph!!! Please, stop!

My head was POUNDING. The other three were okay, George was confined to the shopping cart, due to a foot injury (and subsequent Urgent Care visit, in which it was determined he will live and not need an amputation, contrary to his drama, refusal to walk, screaming in pain, and general behaviors of someone in need of an imminent amputation and lengthy ICU stay....) and the girls were okay, as far as I recall. And, while trying to tune out Joe, I was wondering how bad of an example it would be for my kids, if I pulled my phone out and took a few pics of people that I could submit to the "People of Wal Mart" site. While contemplating this, I notice that people are kind of staring. But, since I am trying really hard not to scream in frustration at my 8 year old, who is JUST. NOT. STOPPING., I notice and then shrug. I cannot think why people could be staring. But, they were. And, in the back of my head, I kind of wonder why. But, Joe is tripping along dogging my every step with a constant barrage of begging and questions, so, I don't really care too much why. I was mentally calculating the distance to the tylenol section, and wondering if we had time.....

     We make it to the checkout, to more begging, and general misery among the children. And more people staring.

     "Joe!" I hiss, "You NEED to just stop. I SAID you could spend your money Saturday, now knock.it.off!!!!!" I say as quietly and sternly as possible.


I notice another mom, pushing a cartful of three screaming children, with a vacant, weary look on her face, and feel a pang of sympathy.

Out to the truck we go, listening to fighting over who gets to sit where, causing lots of screaming, crying, and shrieking. Going right. through. my. head. I could not take it any longer. Everyone piled in, and the shrieking continued. Mostly from Joe.

     "JOSEPH!!!!!!! FOR. THE. LOVE. OF. GOD. AND. ALL. HIS. LITTLE. CHILDREN!!!!!! SHUT. UP!!!!!!!!!!" I completely screech, top of my lungs, hands gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles.

     Then I look up, and there is the other mom, with the three screaming children. Glaring at me viciously. "Oh yeah?" I mutter, "Bet you want to scream at your little darlings too, lady, so don't you dare judge! Keep looking at me in that tone of voice, and I am going to scream at you, too."

     Lord. On to the gas station, where it was realized it was 7-11 at 7-11, and free Slurpee day. Sigh. Haul George out of the window throw him back through the window, get him all buckled in, to hear, "Now I gotta go potty!" back through the window, and back into the 7-11, where people are still starting. I don't even care anymore. I just need to go home and find the Tylenol.

 

     Once in the bathroom with George, I happen to catch myself in the mirror, and see the reason for the stares.

 

 

Alrightly then. This is why people are staring. Not only am I the obnoxious bad screaming mother, but, I look like THIS. I AM Wal Mart people. How the heck many people wanted to, (or did), take pictures of me for the Wal Mart people site. Lovely. Just lovely.

The Bearded Man

     Yesterday I took two of the kids to see 'Despicable Me 2'. (For heaven's sake, before we all jump to conclusions and decide the other two had earned basement time with the clowns, Kaila was with one of her Uncles, and Joe is still at Cub Scout Camp.)

     During the movie, one of the Minions donned a beard. And Lexi comments "MOM! It looks just like Daddy!" I evidently am married to a minion.... hmmm. Now that I think of that, this could have it's perks.
     I digress.

     Driving home the other day, I somehow ended up thinking about The Beard. And it's identity hiding orange bushiness. And the fact that, although I have, through here, speculated all sorts of reasons for it, some fueled by various novels of questionable content, I came to a conclusion.

     He clearly has some form of amnesia. He cannot possibly know who he is, if he cannot see his face. It is my duty as a Christian and all that, to HELP him. He needs help. This orange atrocity is a desperate cry for help. Who knows? Maybe Bearded Man will discover his true identity, and turn out to be wildly weathly, and I can have a new car and just one job! And a massage! And maybe even a pool boy! And someday, A pool!!!!!
    
     An intervention needs to happen.

     Who better to help, than a medical professional? Who is highly trained in safe use of restraints? And shaving people? (Who am I kidding? I shave people, and pray like hell that all these poor men on blood thinners don't get nicked by my incompetence. I hate shaving people.)

     The plan being, to gently apply my bathrobe ties to his wrists, using a (safe) restraint knot, tie him to the bedframe, because that is the safe place to tie people that must be tied for their own safety. Then, to place a knee in the middle of his chest, and try to shave him, so he can see his face, and know his identity once more. It's a kindness, really. It doesn't get any more noble than that.

     I think that, at first he will be a trifle annoyed (or enraged. It all depends on how one looks at it.) but, I think I am willing to endure the possible outcome, until he realizes I did him a favor. And was brave enough to be the brunt of his initial anger on top of my selfless assistance on his quest for identity. In fact, he will probably be SO happy and excited, that he may become emotional, and even buy me diamonds! Which I will probably find in the front seat of my beautiful new SUV.

     What do  you think? Plausible? Do-able? Completely thoughtful of me? Not every person with strange men in their house, would go through this much time and effort to help the poor soul. I am soooo glad the Lord send me this mental message. He certainly works in mysterious ways. And, who am I, to ignore a message from the Lord?

     Will keep you updated on the beard situation. Any advice for shaving writhing people would be greatly appreciated.  For his own good.



*disclaimer: Before we all get bent out of shape about my merciless picking on The Bearded Man, he LIKES these posts.*

So Long, Son!

     Today, I sent my (8 year old) son to Cub Scout Camp. It took approximately an hour and a half to pack for it. I noticed the weather indicated rain and thunderstorms for the next several days, and sent in 2 disposable ponchos and an umbrella. He was pretty sure that, equipped with a flashlight and pocket knife, he is able to take on just about everything.

     After several threats directed toward his little brother, some of them pretty graphic and dire, for any touching of his stuff, and informing the rest of us that he will probably miss the dog the most; he was ready to go.

     We arrived at the required pick up spot a little early, and were followed by another scout and his Dad, and then the Scout Master for our pack. We were waiting for Joe's Scout Leader, and fell into conversation with the other parent and the Scout Master. It ran along these lines:

"Well, I really hope it goes better than it did last year. There was the tornado that blew right through the Scout Camp...." Mentions the Scout Master casualy.

"Oh yeah! Didn't the Scouts weather right through it, too? It was all over the news!" Says the other parent, all impressed.
     "Yeah, they stayed through it! It was the week before the Cub Scouts, the Boy Scouts were there for it."

     "Wow!" Grins this insane other parent.

     "Yeah. But, with the power outage, some of the food was spoiled. It's all donated to the Scouts, and we hated to waste it. Maybe some of it should have been wasted though. Some of the kids got a touch of food poisoning. Had the 'back door trots', if ya know what I mean." The Scout Master went on. "They were okay though. It was the bear I was worried about the most."

     "You had a bear?!" Exclaims the other parent, all excited.

     "Oh yeah! Some people forgot to mention to keep food away from the camp site, and no one emptied the garbage. It was a 350 pound bear, couple feet from our tent. I chased it away though, so it was all good."

     "That big?! That's a good sized bear!" Gushes crazy Dad.

     "Yep. Gonna have to watch for the bear this year. My poor kid last year though, not only did he get food poisoning, he also ended up with spiders in his sleeping bag."

     "Spiders! Well, that's part of camping, right?" Comments overly okay with this other parent.

     "Yep. My poor kid's legs were bit up so bad they were red and swollen out to HERE!" Scout Master demonstrates with his hands an alarming span screaming hospital stay and I.V. Treatments to me.

     "Oh, wow." Nods other parent, all impressed.

     "Oh, hey!" Another Scout Leader turns to me, " there is no cell phone service where we are. If Joe gets upset or homesick or anything, we will try to distract him, or something."

All I could think was, every fear my kid has: rotten food, spiders, tornados, and bears, could be confronted in the next four days. Sort of like a pediatric version of a cross between Jason movies and Freddy movies. Good times and memories, and all that. What can ya do? I kissed him goodbye, told him to have fun, and let him go. Hopefully I get my kid back in roughly the same shape I sent him in. It would be in George's best interest though, for enough trauma to happen that Joe does not notice George was into Joe's stuff approximately 30 seconds after Joe was gone....

Mishmash

     It's been awhile since I wrote anything, and I truly have no idea where this post will go, but, lets see where the keyboard takes us!

     The vehicle issues continue. I honestly am traumatized to the point of inability to further discuss it. I now have wires hanging out of both front doors, in the quest to figure out how to open/shut the windows. AFTER a monsoon. It still smells, and there is a film of assorted (ineffective) air freshening products covering every surface, and it does not act normal when I turn it off. In that, the radio would stay on, and the windows were all operable, and it continued to run until the doors were open. Now, it just dings in distress.  I try very hard not to think about the fact that it is warning me it's days may be numbered. The resident mechanic does not seem to be concerned that the electrical system may be seeing the great headlights in the sky. Who knows if the Bearded Man hanging around the house is actually the resident mechanic I origianaly signed on with or not. I cannot tell. And, it may explain the deplorable condition of my poor vehicle.

     I have decided the Bearded Man may actually be a member of the Witness Protection Program. Since I am not sure if it is as a victim/witness, or as a bad guy/plea deal - possible mob connections even - I do not know how far I want to push this individual. Do I point out  my vehicle is planning to go to the great junkyard in the sky? Or do I just make him comfortable? I don't know. The kids and the dog seem to have accepted him, so, I will continue to roll with it for now. I am in enough distress with my truck, to worry about this person who seems to have decided to live at my house for now.

     A letter to Febreze only generated a form letter back, telling me they would send me coupons, and tips for getting pet odors out of my carpet.

     Enough of this dismal subject. I cannot think about it right now.

     While, according to the calendar, Summer has arrived, Summer has decided it is unavailable at this time. The Per Diem Season that has arrived in it's place is a lovely mix of most of the other seasons. It rains a lot. And throws in the occasional day in which lawn may be mowed, but gardens do not get weeded. Meaning, my lawn looks dreadful. As do my gardens, and also my front porch, which is usualy one of my favorite places to decorate. Not happening in the near future.
     Life happens, right?

     There isn't too much excitement at home to mention.... I have been at work a lot, (A co-worker, Nicole, has asked for honorable mention at this time. Since I see my co-workers more than my kids, I suppose that's a fair request. So, shout out to Nicole and all my other co-workers....) This would be a good time, to mention that I happen to work with some amazing people, and, if I can't be a stay at home Mom, then, I get to do the next best thing, with the next best people. Amazing people that laugh, cry, and share chocolate and  ibuprofin together. We do more laughing than crying, though. I love my job.

     I recently recieved a call from a friend, who has a friend who lives across the road from me. She mentioned that her friend across the road was sitting on their front porch, when all of a sudden things began sailing out of one of the upstairs windows. It has become a nightly ritual of George's, to throw things, (primarily Joe's things..) out thier bedroom window. Just another phase, right? I am sure he will move on to bigger and better things eventualy.
     Bearded Man has mentioned that the school mentioned that they may consider George a year early for pre-school. His birthday is a month and a half past the age cutoff. Not sure how I feel about this. If this kid begins to learn things even earlier than he already seems to be, I can only hope that he uses knowlege for good and not evil. Because the child definately loves to push those limits.
     The other evening, I came home from work, and the girls began to launch into a litany of George's transgressions - some pretty interesting -  and as they were venting, I feel a tug on my shirt, look down, and the sweetest little blond 3 year old boy ever, is handing me a glass of water for my dinner. Stuff like that, is why the kid will get away with stuff forever.

     Wow, this post has been all over the place. I am blaming the SUV issues, and all the chemicals I have spent the last week breathing in, because of the SUV and limited ventilation issues. Hopefull the next post is full of new cars and clean shaven men. Which I doubt, but, still.