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Who Stole My Easy Button?

Who Said I Have Crow's Feet?For example, I found a crow’s foot out my front door.  And a head.  And then the torso.  The poor thing had been picked clean so it didn’t smell.  He is cute in a sad way, but I can’t help but wonder if this is some kind of message about aging.  Eat or get eaten; you have crow’s feet; I will boil you and stick you with a voodoo needle; etc. 

Also, I cannot turn off the underline.  I guess it’s better than the red strike through that was here before.  Another example: do you think that either of my kids will graduate from high school?  Go to college?  Get a job?  Well I hope so.  My concern is valid I think, although others may have it worse.  And if you do, I’m sorry.  Very. very. sorry.

Por ejemplo (not sure that’s correct even though I have a student who’s taking Spanish III), Mr. Jenna Maria has been working on Algebra for a long time now.  Me: Get it done before your cousins arrive so you won’t complain about how much work you still have.  Mr. Jenna Maria:  I am but I don’t know how to do this.  Me: your dad will show you.  Him:  ok.  I get up to stir dinner, return and he’s gone. I shake my head and walk out back — looking for everyone.  There I see Mr. Jenna Maria in the tree hanging from the branch.  I warn him about falling and checking for dead branches.  Him: Really?  You must say this?  Me: I leave because what’s the point? 

Mr. Jenna Maria is back at work on his Algebra and we are not going to eat until he finishes another problem.  It could be awhile.  I will entertain myself watching little dog try to play with little pig.  Not working so far.  Little dog cries like a kitty.  Little pig looks at him and wonders WTF is that thing?  A pig? A kitty pig? A doggie? Dogpiggen?  He’s confused so he goes back to eating hay. Little dog enjoys hay too so he happily munches on whatever falls out of the crate — poop, hay, whatever.

Does the Easter Bunny make a trip to your basket on Easter?  This year he may not remember because I’ve heard rumors that he doesn’t have any candy.  The bunny has to make a trip to Bomboys to stock up.  What is Bomboys you say?  THIS  The Easter Bunny usually shops in this spot and finds everything that’s needed to greet Jesus on Easter morning.  Except real Easter eggs.  We have to make those ourselves with the help of Mr. Jim Chickens. 

One thing I must say about Easter, or any celebration where colored things happen — food coloring is disgusting. STop dipping your kids’ food in this stuff.  It’s okay with me if YOU eat it since you are fool enough to do so, but leave your little people out of this.  Two girlies decided they wanted their delicoius and healthy mac and cheese color free and have a petition to get the dye out of that stuff (o why o when you could just NOT eat it) but good for them if they can do that with eveything.  If you wouldn’t sprinkle a bowl of the stuff on your eggs, then it isn’t food. 

To highlight the disgusting food coloring that people push on their little kids, I have a Pinterest board that showcases this gross stuff.  I don’t even go look for it — it just appears in my feed somehow.  If I looked for the grossly colored icings, cakes and gross stuff, the board would be a lot bigger — it’s called: Shamalamit That’s Ewey.  Check it.


My last paragraph is dedicated to where did I go.  I fell into the abyss of too much shizelle going on all around.  Writing takes a back seat.  This whole setu is not even funny. I’ve lost my funny probably because I’m out of shape and also I didn’t take notes about all the crazy that goes on so I can’t remember it.  I’m working strictly from recent memory and damn it’s not good.  I need to take notes and write a paragraph or two every once in awhile. Maybe once or twice a week early in the morning.  We will see.  My kids need to promise that they will pass high school or they will live in my basement and never leave.  Although I make that awful difficult with the whole screen sharing snooping that we do.  Happy Easter and tell Jesus hey.

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Watch out we’re here. So everybody stand clear. We’re at the peak of our winning streak, so watch out.

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Is it Real or is it FaceTime? You Tell Me.

Stalker Vehicle

If you drive this, you are a stalker. Or maybe a delivery person.

I’m just minding my own business.  Like I always do.  I see you coming and I pretend you’re not there.  It’s not because I’m mean, it’s because I’m busy, people.  Even though I don’t get paid for what I do, I do a lot.  I’ll spare you the details on the time and effort it takes to manage educational careers of dyslexic kids because that would not be funny.  And I’ll spare you the details of a Planning Commission or PTA board member because that would not be funny.  And I’ll spare you the details of making jewelry and finding beach glass and BlahBlahBlah because IT’S NOT FUNNY.  Except when I fall in the Bay or say something stupid at a Planning Commission meeting because I don’t know everyone in town.  I’m new here remember?

So my point is, when I’m vacuuming the yard with the mower, and I see a car drive sloooooooooowwwwwly up the street and slow down in front of my house, I quickly look away hoping they will  not see me. The only people who drive those horrible square box cars are stalkers I mumble to myself.  Stalkers and delivery people.  And if there’s another delivery for my pregnant neighbor LouAnne, then let someone else sign for it.  Not me.  I’m vacuuming.  So a white, boxy car, or stupid looking vehicle (SLV) creeps up my road.  Creep.  It’s DHL I think.  What did I order?  What?  Was it for Dixon’s birthday? Hmmmm, maybe so I know it can’t be that great.  Then the car disappears and I get back to work.  Out of the corner of my eye I see a PERSON in my YARD.  Not good.  The delivery man is making me do something. I sigh and curse a little saying something like: dingwhiddyship-piss-ant.

I shut off the mower and turn to the creepy delivery man.  Funny I think — that delivery dude looks like Elroy. But that can’t be him because Elroy does not have such a squarish face.  And Elroy is not a delivery man. This creepy guy has a tablet in his hand so I can sign for something.  I get a little closer and notice the creeper is smiling and holding his delivery pad up at me.  Then I realize this IS Elroy and that tablet is an iPad and he’s recording my reaction.  On video tape. Well dammit.  I’m not good live.  What the hell I wonder?  He must be home for a little visit.  We’d been talking about a little visit at Thanksgiving or Christmas but hadn’t made any decisions.  I hadn’t heard from Elroy in days and wondered about that a little, but not enough to wonder what was up.  NOW i KNOW.

Elroy was on a plane from that place over there and now he’s here in this place.  On East Coast time.  I run and jump into his arms and scream ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!  No of course not. Try again.  I walk up to him and say: wow, how did you get here?  And, it’s really you — I thought you were a stalker.  You are driving a stalker car right?  Yes, Elroy says, that’s my rental car.  Then we hug hug, kiss kiss.  You can’t see that because it’s not polite.  We chat a bit about how I thought he was a stalker and I’m so glad it’s him and not a chubby delivery man who looks like him and drives a serial killer car.  He looks at me funny and then laughs — yes dernnit, this is why I love your blog he gushes.  Not really, but I am certain he thought this.

Next we determine which children are home.  Only Matilda. She is sick and in bed sleeping. It’s about 2pm.  Let’s go wake her up I suggest.  And so we do.  Her room is all dark and whatnot and Elroy gently shakes her until she wakes up.  Matilda rubs her eyes and stares.  And stares.  Finally she says: Daddy?  O it’s Daddy?  DADDY!!!!!!  Then she wakes up. She’s all smiles and follows him around the rest of the day hanging around his waist.  Later she tells me it was difficult to tell whether it was her Dad waking her up or if it was FaceTime on the iPad.  Mom, he looks just like he does on FaceTime Matilda says.  It was very confusing.

Then Dixon comes home.  He’s not doing that sport where they run any more because it’s over.  So he now comes home at a decent hour.  He sees Elroy and does a double take. Huh?  They do a man hug where you don’t really hug real good and then a better hug after that.  Then Elroy goes to the potty. While he’s gone, Dillon asks: so how long is he here for? ME: forever.  Dixon: ReallY?  ME:  yes.  Dixon: Oh, that’s great.  Now I’ll be a math whiz!  And I give a sigh of relief because I am not a math whiz and I felt that Algeberta II was getting out of control.  Thank goodness for math lovers. And my anxiety over grades is all because I don’t want him living in my basement forever.

Tomorrow we will host a party for my family for Dixon’s 16th Birthday!  My parents, brother and his family and extended family will be here. They have no idea.  I love surprises.  This will be fun and they don’t even have to shave their legs!

Cheers ya’ll.  And I wonder if I have to change the name of my blog.


I’m Praying for You (Not Really)

You may find this cynical but the truth is, I’ve always wondered if people who announce that they are “praying for __________ (insert cause)” actually pray.  Or sending prayers your way _________.  Did you send the prayer just then as you typed or did you wait and send a prayer bundle? I want to know.

Or is it a colloquialism that people carelessly throw out there without real thought or effort?  Personally I don’t announce to the world my prayer intentions and although I don’t begrudge those of you who must, I truly wonder if you do.  Just curious.  Faceburp is full of prayerful well wishers and blessing givers.  I guess some of those people really wish some blessings and stuff — or is it a resume for God?  If I keep a written record of my blessings and prayerful wishes, God will remember me well.  Hmmmmmm my resume is really lacking — I need to get my resume started.

It’s quiet in  my house because everyone is trick or treating.  I don’t know where they are but I’m pretty sure they are NOT the teenagers who stole my neighbor’s candy bucket and dumped it into her pillow case.  No. My kids are good and innocent and don’t do anything wrong.  Every now and then I check my neighborhood Faceburp page to make sure no one is reporting that a girl dressed like Katpiss or a boy just turned 16 and dressed like a SMIBula (Southern Maryland Inbred) has stolen anything or is climbing on the roof of an under construction house.  So far we are good.  Small sighs for no police.  Also don’t come knocking here if you aren’t wearing a costume.  Just stupid.

Natural disasters bring out the best in regular people but the WORST in newscasters.  Really the things they do, especially the weather ones, are atrocious.  For example, this morning on some show from New York, the weather dude was allowed in a helicopter to fly over Newt Jersey.  OOOOOOOOO, uuhhhhhhhhh, looooookie, loooooookie he points and yells!  Woowwwweeeewowowowowow he exclaims, just like Junie B. Jones.

I understand that what he’s seeing is catastrophic — especially for those living it.  So why o why must he make an ass of himself and aggravate everyone?  Of course it’s bad.  So here’s what he’s saying:  O look at those BOATS!  They are washed up.  They are not  in their slips.  This is not the ocean.  It’s CONEY ISLAND.  It’s CONEY ISLAND.  I’m sure this is inside language for something, but most of the country doesn’t know what.  Also he’s a MOTO (master of the obvious).

MOTOs are the worst especially when they have a captive audience.  He repeats: OOOOOOOOOOOhhhhhhhhhhh, those boats are stacked up.  They are not in their SLIPS!  They are piled up like washed up BOATS!   And look, look at that sunken boat.  It’s leaking oil.  No one is talking about that yet, except for me.

And there we have IT.  The “weather” is code word for weather people — it’s all about them. Storm retrospectives detailing the Weather Lady getting her pants wet and having to move, weatherman getting his hat blown off, weather”people” facing danger!

So please excuse me for praying that they blow into the ocean.  Did I say that?  Sometimes it seems just.  I couldn’t take it anymore so I tuned in to the 24-hour campaign ad channel.  Ahhhh relief.

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Booben-steincane Was (NOT) Here

First I want to say that Frankenstorm is not a good name for a storm.  I don’t know if any news people made up a better name but I immediately set to work within my set of trendsetting texters and we changed the name to Boobensteincane. October is breast cancer awareness month and the storm diagrams looked like boobs.  Right my friend Ernestine? Right?  As the boob approached the coast my family was ready.  We wrapped our house in extra large size running bras because they are more secure than the flimsy strappy things.

The Boob Storm

Looks like a boo-bie and is supposed to be pink.

We did all our stuff so the boo-bensteincane would not be attracted here. We set up a weather station with everything we would need for a bad storm and no power.  I had the super duper flashlight, the bullhorn, the lighter and candles and you name it.  But nothing happened.  That is because of the conversation I had with the big man and the fact that I was ready.  When you are NOT ready, it comes.  When you are ready, it goes away.  Good for us this time.

I like a good storm, but I guess I don’t really like high winds or water.  They are bad.  I like the change of pace, friends coming over and hanging out, kids playing without any worries, etc.  But when your Elroy is gone, I guess a really scary storm like they had in Newt Jersey or Newt York would be very scary and not a welcome change of pace when you are all alone.

So even though I am a bit upset about the waste of time preparations and then the waste of time putting away that happened here, I am very happy that all my tree friends at the winter palace are still alive and did not die.  Boobensteincane did not crush us or take our spirit.  However, the summer palace is a different story because of flooding and debris.  Although there’s no damage, there is a substantial amount of flotsam and jetsam and maybe a dead cow.  Glad everyone was safe and hope the shores north of here get cleaned up and back to living.  I did have to listen to a lecture by Elvira (my mom) about how if I don’t watch out this storm will hit us next time, maybe when they are dead, and we will have to deal with it.  I prefer to ignore the future and live for today.  Moms always have to point out the future.  I’m sure I do that to my kids and will make a note here to make SURE I do this when they arrive home from school today.

For example, I think I will say: if you aren’t careful tonight, there is a chance that someone will run you over and give you poison candy.  They will also stab you with a knife and steal our candy bowl.  Be careful out there.

O it’s HallOween.  Don’t forget to post your ugliest photo ever on your Facebook page and gobble up lots of candy so your butt inflates very big.  I’ve been eating my candy since last Saturday as I sat waiting for the wind to knock over my trees.  At some point on Sunday I began to realize that I needed to hide the candy.  Lucky for me I was able to pour it into a bowl and have the kids eat it.  Now they are both sick in time for HallOween. I also realized that there would not be a hurricane or even a storm down here in the bottom of Maryland.  Although this was good news, I did wait several days to find out the answer which makes me antsy.

Today is Braithwaite’s 16th birthday.  I remember sitting in the hospital in Florida looking out on the landing thing and watching everyone celebrate Halloween (but me).  That is the price you pay for a holiday baby.  Now we have a great time celebrating spooky day and birthday at the same time.  We always had leftover candy in every neighborhood until now.  These people have candy goblins that just shred it up.  I bought more than 10 large bags of candy and I will run out.  I meant to buy more but my time expired.

Remember people, when you are out trolling for candy, I want you to know (and my mommy would be proud), that there is a baby head looking for it’s little body.  My friend Smelly Vividor says she has the body and ate it for dinner with Hannibal Lecter.  Hasn’t she read Elvira and the Golden Arm?  Hmmm?  Hmmm?  Have you?  Well you should.  You should.

Have YOU seen my body? You know I will find it.

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It’s LABOR Day and I’m Not Having a Baby.

No. I’m having a cow. Which is a lot more difficult than a baby. I haven’t had too much time to write lately and have been very lax on getting out the blog posts. I think I will cut them down in size and post more frequently. Maybe like I did in the beginning with timed segmenting of the day.

The cow is caused by the fact that I have to be both mom and dad. I have a hard time being just the mom, much less both. I’m not good at this. I ordered an audio cd the other day to tell me how NOT to have a cow when things go wrong. For instance, when Mitzi has a problem she can’t solve, instead of using words she uses actions. Usually this involves some form of facial contortions coupled with rude body language.

I truly believe you should be able to feel whatever emotion you want, just don’t let me see it because it’s contagious. Like warts or cold sores. When Elroy is home, these tween frustrations happen of course but we have a good cop, bad cop going on and it helps put this cow back in its pen or at least let the cow out to graze appropriately. When I do this parenting all by myself, sometimes, I have a cow even when it’s not labor day. This is because cows are contagious. So my wish is for someone to please invent an antidote for a contagious tween hormonal bad mood. AKA not handling frustration well and letting it spread to me, the mothfat or fatmoth. Not sure which of those monikers I prefer but I’m sure you know that’s a combo of mother/father.


–Lightning seen from far away over the water is beautiful. Especially the cloud to ground action. Although some of that recently fried a light pole in the neighborhood and sent a surge into some people’s homes. Mine surged just a bit and fried a lightbulb. Which prompted me to get the light fixed by an electrician. I guess there is a reason for everything.

— The bad fridgie will be gone soon. Next week its brethren will be delivered and I can’t wait. I wrote to GE about my bad motor but got no reply. My advice is: Do not buy the cheapest GE product on the market. They don’t work.

–Names. I have a whole bunch of new names for boys. I helped my friends Benjarvis GreeNellis and Desean Mustard conduct a fantasy football draft. I don’t know too much about players but I did figure out that the NF of L has a bunch of great names for me to steal! woweeewow wow. I would love to interview a few of the moms of these people and ask them just HOW in the chechesknee-uh did they pick these adorable names? I love to pick out names but these are so much more than I ever expected. I will use some of them in future posts!

–School. One of the things I am working on with the childrens is conversation. Have you ever heard a mom say: I don’t know anything about Jermichael — he never tells me anything. Well I have two of those but I think they will tell me stuff if I just listen properly. And ask the right questions. So finally I got a few things out of them. Brock: Mom, everyone at my school thinks you are a redneck if you are from Texas. Really? Have they ever been to Texas? NOPE he says. That’s why these people are so stupid. Brock explains that there was some diversity training at school and he liked it. I did not expect this. Why would you like that Brock I ask? He says because they explained to these dimwits that everyone from the SOUTH is not a redneck. okay then.

–Mitzi’s school observations: I hate school and all my classes even the ones with the nice teachers. Except for chorus. I don’t hate that. Why do you hate school I ask? Mitzi: because it smells. The halls smell, the cafeteria smells. I can’t breathe there. Does it smell in chorus I ask? No she says.

— Cleaning. We have a walk UP basement. That means I have to keep this cave like place clean. I’ve talked about this dungeon area before because it gets so dirty and mildewwy that it has to be cleaned and bleached at least 3 times a year. I was down there spraying the cement and opened the screen to get the dirt out that was caked in the door track and out popped a snake! Dernnit. I’ve killed it I thought because it looked like the guts were hanging out where the door rolled it over. I tossed it aside while I finished cleaning. When I swept it into the dustpan to drop it into the woods it popped it’s head up and looked at me. Oops. Poor snake didn’t like bleach.

Multi-tasking. Don’t do it. It doesn’t work. And there is even a study out to prove this. I haven’t read the study but here’s the deal. When I try to do too many things at once, it ends badly. For example, I was walking the dog and a fly buzzed around my head. While I was still walking I tried to take the leather leash and whap it in the air around my head to deter it from coming near me. Instead I whapped myself in the face and eye, which really hurt. Another example: I was drying my hair and decided I could spare a hand to put moisturizer on my legs. I reached out with my spare hand and pushed on the nozzle. It didn’t like the one handed push and the lid popped off spewing oily lotion all over the walls and mirror. ooops.

Sometime soon I will devote a whole post to multi-tasking issues. Till then, have a fine work free labor day weekend.



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Wassemchizzom is not a curse word. It’s a…

chicken pate? Nope. A sneeze blessing? Wassemchizzom – oh thank you. Nope. A Christmas punch? No.  A large gap in the earth? No.  It’s some poor person’s name. And maybe it’s a teacher’s name. I don’t know, I just like it. And it’s not off topic because the TOPIC of this post is:

School is Not Out for Summer. No sir-re-ebob.

Futile I tell you, Futile

Futile I tell you, Futile.

School is in. It has started.  And yesterday, (way before September 4 BTW), when all the kids went to back to school, the parents had a little party.  Just all talking and stuffing their faces with little bits of healthy food and maybe a muffin or two. It was bittersweet for some because they were sending off little ones. For me, I can go either way. On the one hand, the house is empty and quiet and there is more food. On the other hand, there is schoolwork, deadlines, lost stuff, panic attacks, injuries, things to sign and phone calls from the HS principal Mrs. Marwin Mintgimery. Hello Trader Nation!! she yells happily into your phone message recorder device. HOW are you today!!?? And so on. This happens once a week. I enjoyed the summer off from all those things, even if I had to drive all over the place with Daphne and buy lots of food and bandaids for Judson.

I noticed that several of the moms who were celebrating their freedom, have very interesting lives and have some good stuff that they could put on a blog. For example, Druella attended a recent play date for Kindergartners (how do you spell that word?). At this play date, her youngest, who is NOT going to K quite yet, had a little issue. It appears that while his mom was talking and galavanting around the playground, little Tuttle went toodle in his doodle. By the time Druella noticed that Tuttle had his drawers on the ground because he didn’t care for the toodle on his boodle, several families had already gagged-puked and left the playground. This is funny.

My other neighbor Selma, who was not celebrating the return to school because she teaches, spent her first day after school at the ER getting a cast on her son Sven’s wrist, now broken in two places. Thanks Football. My other friend, Debor-ah spent her last week before school started worrying about her little pooch who ate a towel and then had to have it surgically removed. I am so glad to report Debor-ah’s doggie is ok and back at home recovering. They have removed all their towels from the bathrooms. I want to suggest to Debor-ah that she post on this blog: Dog Shaming. I think it would be funny.

And last, but not least, we have the case of the feral cats. My other neighbor Lovey has been trapping cats in her spare time. I happened to look out the window just the other day and I saw her running through the yard with a trap and a large bowl full of tuna (mooshed up not whole). Her hair was flying along behind her and there were at least 4-5 little children running after her without shoes.

I wondered for a moment if I needed to call the Hansel and Gretel patrol but decided against it because then what would I have to watch? Lovey explained to me that the trap was to catch the mom and have her kitten-proofed and then put her back in the wild. While she’s at the doctor, Lovey would steal all her kittens and give them away. This is the plan. Problem is that mama kitty does not appear to like tuna. She is already missing two kitties because someone stole them and apparently one turned up in Lovey’s bathtub. Lovey named the kitty something about Washington State so her husband Trusfelt would like the kitty and not throw it outside.  It has a bed, potty and playpen all in the tub. If you are interested dear reader, when Lovey catches the kitties you can have one for your tub.

Bits and Pieces

As I’ve mentioned before, this neighborhood is full of children — and they keep on coming. The bus stop for the elementary school had 76 kids at one stop for one bus. It’s amazing how many little childrens you can fit on one bus. It took nine minutes to load 76 kids. I don’t have the stat yet for how long it takes to unload, but I’m guessing it’s closer to 4 minutes than 9.  The average number of childrens per household:  I think it’s four.

Yesterday I sprayed the backyard for ticks, fleas, deer and mice with a garlic butter sauce. I’d heard that garlic repels these things so I decided to try it. We will see what happens. I also sprayed a tiny little bit in the gee-rage to keep away the blue tailed skink family that lives in the walls of the garage. If only they just had a little house I would like them better. Next thing you know I will see their little faces peering out of the terlit or the sink.  Later today, I’m going to harvest some tree leaves and cook them up for dinner and see if anyone notices.  Will get back to you on this.

I also ran over a snake in my driveway.

Who stole my snake?

Who stole my snake?

I left it there awhile because I don’t mind these creatures. My plan was to eventually find my kids and drag them out to the driveway to see it. It was definitely dead. By the time I got the kids out there, it was gone. I guess my vulture friend Anterlopen visited again. I’m sorry I missed it.

Next I would like to talk a minute about lecture quotes on FB: Am I the only one who does not tolerate these well?  There are so many instructions (disguised as motivational quotes) posted all over Punkterest and Ferkenberger (FB for short) that I am starting to get confused. Many years ago I went to an “educational seminar” (sexual harassment training) with a boss who thought he was getting manners training. During this training, Mrs. Malcolm Baldrigid politely reminded us that it was impolite to tell (command) people to smile. Don’t do that she said. It’s stupid and if someone wants to be all sour and stuff, well then just leave it. It’s their face, etc and it’s not all about you.

Because I was about several decades younger, I took this advice very literally.  I try not to tell-lecture people about how to feel or what kind of mood they should adopt.  And I beg people to stop posting such bossy sayings such as:


No. o. so. bossy.

I guess that’s why someone invented the antiquote. These are old fashioned drawings with modern sayings that are snarky or rude. They say the opposite of what you see and that’s why they are funny for a time.  Sometimes these bossy quotes and the anti-quotes show up on FB. If you are my friend and you post inspirational/bossy quotes more than once a week, you can guarantee I have you on “do not show in news feed.” Sorry, I’m just that not interested in a lecture (and I just heard Judson’s voice in my head say: and now you know how we feel. Hmmmffffff.)  I did find a very informative sign while I looked for inspirational quotes.  This is my favorite:


and okay. I will not do that.

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