Housewife Log: Stardate 2πs, A Post in (Too Many) Pictures

Yesterday was just another day home this summer. I'm not sure if The Former Future President ever left the couch or not. Oh wait, she walked down to the mailbox to see if her Netflix pick was there, but alas, multiple movies in one day was not a reality. She and I watched Wristcutters: A Love Story (Impromptu movie review: Liked it.) and then I had two major accomplishments in my rugged day. Firstly, I made a list of all of the things I want to get done, presumably before school starts back in a month.

I know you can't read it and that's good or you may ask me how such and such is coming along. Though I will tell you the last thing on the list is "Go Camping!" which I hope to do the week before school starts.

My list is comprised of other things as well varying from being as complicated as cleaning the carport...

(Someone call Larry the Cableguy to come do a special. This is about half the number of cabinets Mr. Bee has brought home in the process of removing them from rich peoples' houses.)

...to being a simple as straightening the top of my dresser.

Those are The Lip Model's sketches. I love the one on the left. Here are two of her recent works (one in progress- though she already hung it on the wall, so perhaps it's finished).

Oh, here is one of her walls.

Somehow, I don't think Hannah Montana would be pleased.

This one is my favorite...

Here's the adjacent wall.

I particularly like these....

So, back to it. One dresser. Check. The top of my dresser's one of the three or four items marked off my list. Actually, I have another dresser where I keep papers and pictures and the like, so all I was able to mark off my list was the final "s" in "dressers." The first looked kinda like this one to start with.

The other thing I accomplished yesterday was the making of dos quiches. I got the recipe here via googling broccoli quiche with whipping cream (because I bought some for said occasion.) The day before Mr. Bee had started to cook the broccoli I had purchased for quiching and then realized the error of his ways, so he "blanched" it for me. I just had to chop it. I didn't really measure it. I just used what there was for the two quiches.

Then I sautèd the onions and garlic before I added the broccoli in the deal. I also added the red pepper (which I found from an old pizza packet in our junk drawer).

Appetizing, I know.

I put all the stuff and stuff in the shells....

There was too much of the egg, cream mixture, so I put the extra in muffin cups sprayed with some Smart Balance cooking spray crap.

And cooked it all.

(Oops, the pic is sideways. Oh well.) These 'lil eggcakes were good. The kids, who couldn't possibly wait five more minutes for dinner, which I served with some very fine polenta, ate these right up (partially explaining the greasiness of the plate where the other two formerly sat- they look kinda yucky.)

They were tasty.

Mr. Bee said it was the best quiche he'd ever had, but I think maybe he was just trying to make me think he'd never eaten quiche before, because, well, you know....


Just Another Gratuitous Jane Fonda Post

I found this picture on my desktop courtesy of The Lip Model. It's too good to go to waste.

Incidentally, I was enjoying this other pic of Jane Fonda yesterday as I discovered the beauty that is The Smoking Gun courtesy of Bubs.


I See Your Skepticism and Raise It Up a Notchling

Randal hath challenged my Honore, my Virtuosity:
"I think you're lying about cleaning your desk." -Randal

I, Fine Sir, may be a Slutte, but I am no Liare (usually). La Proofe:

In case You, Fine Sir, doubt my Authenticidad, I hereby offer Proofe that I am not using an Olde Picture:

Well, that may not be Proofe Positivo, but I hereby challenge you to prove that Your Picture is Authentique.

I dare say, "You shall FAILE!"


Something Cute and Quirky

Holy shit, it's been how many days since I posted? (Don't answer that.) There are two incomplete posts sitting in editor mode, one of which I accidentally pushed "publish" on and so it may have been in your reader. There's nothing particularly wrong with it per se, but I just got bored with writing it. I was going to show you pictures from some family excursion only to later rue my putting identifiers in my blog. I do still intend to take the family pics off here to postpone my future teacher firing, but well, I'm lazy that way, apparently.

And then this morning, it struck me: Haven't there been enough fucking fuzzy bunny pics here lately? Who wants to hear about my kids getting all muddy at Barton Springs and then our swimming in the rain? Who wants to hear about my first crème brûlée experience as I took one Mr. Bee to see "The Dark Knight" on his birthday, leaving me with too little money to purchase a gift and so certain favors had to be rendered as proper due?

Who wants to see me with my t-shirt tied on my head like I'm some sort of outdoor woman or some shit? I'm not. My garden went to pot again, I have done nary an outdoor thing at my own home and I'm freezing in the AC here at work in my corduroy pants and long-sleeved black tee rather than my regulation security guard attire. My cute co-worker left when he got a full-time job and I'm a little too paranoid to mention anything about such matters anyway. I have one hundredth of an iota of discretion. Who knew? Certainly not me.

I could have recounted how I got a call from an off-duty state trooper to pick up The Formerly Future President from Whole Foods in an incident resulting in her first serious grounding of two to three weeks only to find out her cohort got a year-long grounding! I could show you the picture of how she was lying in a mud puddle to protest the walk she had to take with her brothers and me when she wanted to be swimming with her friends or be left alone at her dad's to drum up mischief as she saw fit, for which I have complete empathy. At least no Purple Passions were consumed as was the case in my youth, but she is only 13. Her adolescence is still young.

I would probably only seem like a loon if I recounted how I saw a bunch of red spots on my son's arm at 3 in the morning when I was moving him so he didn't fall off the couch where the children have taken to falling asleep quite often in these summer months. The red spots were unlike anything I had ever seen. With no fever, no texture to the outbreak, I decided to look it up online, only to discover The Genius may have had leukemia and the spots were subcutaneous bleeding apparently, either that or Ebola, until I called Mr. Bee from work, after he'd awoken, to have him make sure there was no fever present (at which point I would have insisted a hospital visit necessary) only to find out it was all red marker.

No one cares what the hell I broke my fast with (fresh-sqeezed orange juice) after seven days of Teh Master Cleanse. No one thinks my using the word "teh" is cute either. I know what you want. Ok, actually, I don't, but I am pretty darn sure it's not my telling you how I have the renewed hots for Maggie Gyllenhaal after finally watching Secretary with Mr. Bee last week. Ok, that might actually be along the lines of what you do want to hear, but I don't want to hear it, 'cause then my pity party might be over and I'd have nothing else to write at the moment.

You might ask, "How's the memoir coming, Freida?" Shut the fuck up, alright! No, I am not hostile about having the brilliant idea to write it as a love letter only to have my faint musings of inspiration fail when I realized I am a philanderer in my heart who wants things to be all about me all the time. In fact, I am nearly perky as shit to have Zoloft be affecting me sexually to the extent that in order to have an orgasm finally I loathesomely (ok, not really) had to watch porn involving double penetration (New google search terms. Yea! "Whore" was dwindling lately.) to get off. I mean, not one of you gives a shit about what I'm going through. I've had precious little to complain about and it's driving me fucking crazy.

Mr. Bee and I have been getting along well. The Lip Model has been cooperative. I haven't been spending all of my time blogging. I don't have classes right now and, in fact, I am really starting to believe that I might actually accomplish that graduation thing. I've lost ten pounds this summer and there has been little rain, so I haven't even had to mow our five acres every two days. I cleaned my desk. (I know!) I got over my recent Scrabulous addiction. There are no employees at work this weekend, so I can talk to myself until I'm green in the face. The AC's fixed and we even bought an AC filter that is guaranteed for the next ten years. What the hell am I going to do in all the time it would have taken me to buy 120 disposable AC filters, anyway?

The only thing left for me to do here is to pretend I care about something beyond the personal. I could tell you about how I learned about the history of Apple computers and the Steves by reading Wikipedia last night, or how Christian Bale was in this cheesy movie and I saw a clip of his singing part at The Alamo the other day, where we didn't even have to sit on the very front row because we were prepared by buying tickets online and arriving early. Or, you may not have known about how my boyfrind Christian's father married Gloria Steinem in his and her 60's and how he's been a vegetarian since he was about six or so, of his own volition. Boooring.

I might act like I noticed Barack Obama was in Germany as McMuffin continued to act like a douche at Fudgepackers. I might pretend I watched Charlie Bartlett the other day and would recommend it to anyone with a sense of humor and Netflix. I might relay how much I love Hope Davis as an actress and then you'd all agree with me that she is absolutely gorgeous. But, where is the sport in that? Duh. I might point out something dumb George Jr. did or something cruel Cheney did or something two-faced Nancy P. did, but what fun would that be?

I have nothing original, nothing new, nothing worth saying here, it seems. I might as well finish up here and read a book. I might as well cross the things to do off my list. I might as well look busy at work with nobody here. Oh, the irony. Oh, the humanity. I might as well study in advance for my finals next semester. I might as well go lick the toilets if I'm going to be an ass kisser like that anyway. Surely, there is something I can do to screw things up here. Surely I can lose my temper, not pay some bill, get some ticket, lose my job, lie to some friend..., make a prank phone call, at least. I mean, I might as well call my grandmother, tell her I miss her and crochet a doily for Jesus Fucking Christ on a whole wheat cracker's sake.

I might as well Froodle. I might as well clean my purse, sweep the floor, straighten all the pictures in the facitily. I might as well clean out my email, make a budget, buy back-to-school supplies for the kids before the night before school starts when there are only pink rulers left. I might as well iron my shirt, push in a chair, floss my teeth, sing the Star Spangled Fucking Banner. I might as well make a resume, put on some hand cream, shave my legs, darn my socks, wash the windows, organize the laundry room, do a sit-up.



One For U. Savage

Dear Utah,

This one's for you.
I know you don't always watch videos,
but I promise you this one you will enjoy.
It's one of my favorites.

Love, Freida

Amy Lavere's Killing Him (Didn't Make the Love Go Away)


Let Me Tell You a Little Story About a Kitty Named "The Kitty"

It all started at the laundry mat. Yes, we have three washing machines at our house and not a one works properly. Mr. Bee brought a generator home to test out whether it was the washing machines or our electrical thingimajigs not functioning, because two of these washing machines were purported to work in rich people's homes and then not work upon their arrival to the vortex formerly known as our yard. Seriously, Mr. Bee keeps bringing home all these rich people's old cabinets too. If it weren't so embarrassing and I weren't afraid it would be sent into that Jeff Foxworthy hour thing with Larry the Cableguy and someone else would win $5,000 for my inconvenience, I would so post a pic to prove it, but like everything else on my blog, you'll just have to take my word for it. The point is that pretty soon I should be able to put everything we own in cabinets and then I'll hang our chairs on the wall and I can start getting a deposit from Snaggletooth that I will not return until he brings me back every single piece of the Simpson's Monopoly he likes to look at and imagine someone wants to play with him.

Anyway, I was at the laundry mat, for now overly explained reasons, and I loaded our laundry into the washers, to the attendant's chagrin as I arrived 40 minutes before closing time reassuring her that I wasn't going to dry my clothes there. Yes, I know it is infinitely easier to do so, but I am loathe to stay there more than is absolutely necessary and so I lug it all home wet and pay for the propane and electricity to dry it in many more loads instead. I pulled out my laptop and because I am an internet slut and, having picked up a signal there before, expected to be able to blog or some other such nonsense, but nooooo-go. Instead the attendant's ten year-old sister and I became friends. She was very friendly and we had a good conversation. We spoke my favorite language, Complementary Spanish. What is Complementary Spanish, you ask? It's what happens when a sparse Spanish speaker and sparse English speaker decide to communicate. For instance, Liddy was telling me something about her family, but she didn't know a certain word, but I understood what she meant, so I told learned her word and she learned mine. That is my favorite way to speak Spanish. For a whole year I worked in a kitchen at a nursing home near Fort Worth with a woman who only spoke a bit of English and we had to work together integrally. I think she was overwhelmed with having to speak English everywhere and took advantage of my wanting to learn Spanish more and we only spoke in Spanish, essentially. Unfortunately for her, and we talked quite a bit, I only knew present tense at the time, though my vocabulary was adequate, so everything was in el pasado+ ... or en el futuro+.... A couple years later when I went back to college, I took four semesters of Spanish and did learn other tenses, but have not had very good opportunities to practice.

So, on my way home from the laundry mat at 11:00 at night (Oh, yeah this is where I have to mention that on my way to the laundry mat I was going to drop our rent in the mailbox (late- yes), but forgot and decided to just do it on the way home.) I spoke to myself in Spanish and even was able to recall the preterite and imperfect tenses of verbs right before I stopped to drop the mail in the mailbox and check our mail, which required my getting out of the car. Once out of the car I heard some sort of animal in the ditch across from the cuntry community mailbox area. I got excited that it sounded cattish and thought that perhaps it was Cooper, though I was worried that the mewing sounded wimpy, like he was hurt. For a while I even thought perhaps it was a different sort of animal altogether, but determined it was not Cooper (sadly), but a kitten. Every time I meowed at it, which I do very well, in addition to my Spanish r rolling cat call mah Mamma does, the cat meowed back, but because the cat was in a veritable snake bed of burry, fire anty flora, I decided to run home and get a flashlight and The Future President and her friend to help.

When we were driving back to the mailbox area, there was a tiny tiny orange tabby in the road meowing. As soon as we got out of the car, it fled and I won't go into tremendous detail about all the lengths we went to to try and get the cat, which seemed clearly homeless, but suffice it to say it involved my lifting a thirteen year-old over a barbed wire fence, an underground drainage ditch and a can of tuna... all for naught, as we were not able to come home with the kitten. I allowed my daughter to drive our van back to our house (Hey, it's the country and she's been practicing and annoyingly corrects me on my own driving now.) and despite my not getting home until about 1:30 AM, I had to give up and come home bare-handed. That night I met a very intriguing fellow in my dream with whom I spoke Spanish, even in past tenses, and he was crazy about me (the part of the dream Dr. Therapist and I determined was pertinent- to feel wanted) and was coming to Austin. It was a good dream.

My daughter and son walked down there and tried in the morning and at about 11:00 it occurred to me that not only had that kitten been going without food (which we tried to give it), but even worse it had no water. We went down later and saw that another kitten was dead in the ditch and our little orange guy was meowing from the middle of drainage ditch going under the street, which we could see through in daylight. I sat on the ground on one side of the street, my daughter on the other side, surrounded by waist high grass for quite a while, garnering strange glances from some neighbors getting their mail. Once, I even bent down and just pretended I wasn't there. Two very nice country gentlemen stopped. One suggested we leave it food and water, saying it would be fine, but the tuna we'd left the night before was covered in fire ants when we went back the next day and we told him about the dead kitten. Another guy stopped and said he would run home and grab a (humane) trap he had that we could use.

This whole time I knew the easiest solution was just to have the Genius crawl into the drainage tube and he had thought of that himself by then, but saw as well that though we could see there were no snakes or larger creepy things, there were quite likely spiders. The guy that remained while the other was fetching his trap kept trying to urge the genius in there though, telling him that's what he'd do if he were smaller. The kitten was going to die that day without food and water; it was walking wobbly and everything, so my son did go in a few feet, but thankfully cautious enough to turn back. Anyway, at some point a net got involved and my just sitting and calling it for a very long time on the other side of all that lured it close enough to me that I was able to scoop it into the net. Yea! We had a kitten, which my daughter particularly had been asking for and was miffed Snaggletooth got the bunny when she had been asking for a kitten. So, this kitten was very welcome. It's also helped me think that Cooper's disappearance had a purpose of some sort.

So, now we have a kitten and a bunny living in my daughters' room. The cat has since eaten and pooped and learned from the bunny no less to do so in the cat box. The kitten absolutely adores the bunny, pounces on it and chases it and the bunny is über tolerant. Tonight The Lip Model and I laughed our asses off as we witnessed, seriously, the kitten practicing jumping. It was trying over an over again to hop and then land with both its feet at the same time, even doing the little gymnast trying to nail a landing correction when it got it wrong. It was hilarious. So, plans are developing for the video which will feature the bunny who acts like a cat (he's taken to lying flat on his (or her- we haven't determined yet) belly like a cat in addition to the cat box) and the cat who acts like a bunny, hopping and eating bunny grass stuff. Incidentally, the bunny's starting to take to me and let me approach it to pet it.

Without any more background, here is "The Kitty." I think that maybe TFP is trying to annoy me by naming her that, but she is ultra cute. See for yourself. Here she is contemplating attacking her mentor....


One in Which I Summon Ye Olde Fire Crotch

Well, well, well, if it isn't dear old Day 4 o' The Cleanse. I feel cleaner already, but that may be because I actually took a shower this morning. I'll try not to go into too much detail as to exactly what it is that The Master Cleanse cleanses, but well, it's your intestinal tract.

I probably won't tell you about my favorite part of the the cleanse, the salt-water flush in the mornings. It's a "top-down" enema, which means it goes straight through, cleansing all the while. Oh what a joy. I think it is designed to make the rest of the day seem like a total breeze, drinking a tall lemonade spiked with cayenne as one sits pooside, detoxifying oh so delicately.

What I really wanted to write about are the foods which sound so delicious right now. Nothing like 10 days of liquids can put the craving of veggies in the belly. The Future President called me last night from her dad's to tell me that she's going to go off the fast. That's fine, preferrable to me even. She went a noble 3 days, probably a healthier amount for a young lass such as herself anyway. I'll have to offer her moral support via satellite in not going and eating a bunch of fried chicken, for which she has been claiming a craving. Fresh squeezed orange juice, tomato soup, yogurt, a baked potato for dinner in addition to the lemonade. These are the things I have advised her to break her fast with today, slowly. Will she listen? I'm not sure. I hope so.

It's not that I don't have cravings. Sure I love me some tapioca and banana puddings. I have a special place in my heart that melts for carob covered malt balls and almonds, but it is really warm veggies I desire right now. Asparagus with lemon butter, steamed carrots or corn with dill. Oh, my famous homemade cornbead waffles (with actual corn contained). I dreamt of black-eyed peas the other day, but a bowl of black beans with some raw onion, jalapeno, diced tomato, shredded cheese and sour cream sounds divine.

As I fell asleep last night, I was remembering my old friend miso and was craving me some buttery short grain brown rice with some red miso atop. I could drink a whole bottle of goat yogurt, but some home made tomatillo salsa (tomatillos y tomatos con un poquito del jugo de una naranja, cilantro, jalapeño, comino, sal) with some light chips, mmmmmmmmm.*

Una homemade sopa del pollo (even though I've been back to veggie después Thanksgiving) sounds lovely, salty, peppery. I'm craving warmth. I'll put more cayenne in my next batch of the lemonade which is actually limeade today sweetened with some mighty yummy maple syrup. I've decided that I'm going to break my juice fast on the tenth day, keeping it liquid, but adding some of that butternut squash soup I love from teh market. I could dip some toasted sprouted grain cinnamon raisin toast doused with olive oil in it so easily too.

I am allowed non-caffeinated herbal teas, so I'll pick myself up some warming teas, gingery pepperminty cinnamoninesses. That's it. I've been cold. I want to not be sitting here in the AC, but rather sweating out on the hike and bike trail all day or so. I couldn't take my sons swimming the other day because I just didn't want to be cooled off. I've been tweaking the AC temp up at home behind everyone's back. There is no marital issue more controversial in our house (besides alcohol, sex, parenting, gun ownership, and video games) than the temperature the AC is set at and how high the ceiling fan is set.

It seems Mr. Bee could sweat in a snow storm while I could work outside in the heat all day (and have at times). As long as I can get naked (or close to it) and wet, I'm good (insert sexual innuendo here). Fortunately I can put my freezing butt up against his fire crotch and we're both the better for it. Oh crap, I'm at work and a post that was meant to be all about food porn made me crave something else altogether.

The boring tale I promised needs a few pictures I realized and will have to wait until tomorrow. Go and be hot and sweaty for me now, okay? (Except for you, Randal.)

*¿Donde está el hottie moreno de mi sueño?


Is There a Mind Reader in the House?

I'm hurt that no one commented the posts I didn't write. After we've known each other this long, I've come to expect you to read my mind. Only one dear sends me private emails and says, "'S'up?" And then, I'm such a cuntlicker (no, not the Cindy McCain variety) that I haven't even replied to them. I could lie to you guys that I've been very busy on my personal writing project (which it has become), but then I would be lying and if I don't say things like that some times, then you'll never believe it when I really am lying and I don't want you to know.

You see, I am finishing the third day of teh Master Cleanse. Crap, I thought I might get off without doing any links, but it seems I need them to get off after all. So, when I haven't been posting, I've been tending to Scruffy the bunny who has successfully taken to peeing in a litter box (it's funny), but still needs to work on getting his little pebbly poops in there, though he's gotten a few. So far, he's been living in my daughters' room on their floor and I'm rather liking it. There's more to the story which I shall tell as a story unto itself tomorrow when I am getting paid to blog at work. Worry not though; it's not really all that interesting.

Anyway, The Future President asked me last week if she could do the Master Cleanser with her best friend. (I put that "er" there since that's how I learned it, even though it's technically wrong. If I use a southern twang, then it's to be expected that I will botch the name.) I was very skeptical of letting her do it as she is only 13, though her friend did it last year and had no problems. I thought about it for a few days and told her that she could do it if she stayed with me the whole time and I did it with her. I wanted her to do it right. I first did it back in 1996, I think and did it a handful of times in a couple years, but had one time it did me wrong and I broke the fast and hadn't done it again until last summer. In retrospect, I likely had difficulty with the fast that time due to hyperthyroidism which I wasn't diagnosed with until the following year, though it had been brewing into my love goiter for several years.

Anyhoo, things have been going well. TFP wanted to go to her dad's for the weekend and we made her all the lemonade she'd need for tomorrow, and I sent her with all the supplies she'd need for Sunday as well. She seems to be feeling quite well. Her skin is clearing a bit I've noticed, too. Since I caught her using some Tide pen crap that she put on a stain on her shirt and then didn't wash it off ("Where did you get that crap?"), I figure she's been exposed to plenty of chemicals in her lifetime that it wouldn't hurt for her to cleanse. I don't even like my kids being handsy around the bottom rows in grocery stores as I know they're likely laden with pesticides, not to mention their schools, parks, and the crap in the Count Chocula (served with organic soymilk, of course) I DID buy. I'd like to justify it by saying that the Mom's choice high-fiber O's with marshmallows had more sugar, and 2g of fiber per serving rather than the 1 the Whole Grain Count Chocula had. I know I'm gonna burn in hell for buying that. Just what is the incentive for behaving well if one has already transgressed, tell me.

Oh, I think I'm supposed to repent. Forgive me Jesus for buying Count Chocula for my children. I know it's far better when they're packaged as Koala Krisps, but whisper in my ear would ya, if there's really much difference between the two. You say they're organic, more conscientiously manufactured and that does matter? You say that Al Gore hath urged us all to forsake thee Count Chocula in favor o' Koala Bears. Then so be it. Amen and so on and so forthwithily shall it be.

I don't want to go really, but my alarm sounds at the unholy 4:45 on my workdays, so until tomorrow, be well and eat your Reese's Peanut Butter cereal Leapin' Lemurs. Oh, and how's your greenness coming along, Al? Oh, OK.


Housewife Log: Stardate 0= (-1) +1 (A Very Sad Loss and a Fluffy Bunny)

Back in March, I introduced you to my kitty, Cooper. He is, or perhaps was, the most beautiful and affectionate kitty I have ever had the pleasure of loving. We have not seen him since Monday morning when I let him outside around sunrise. Of course, I wish I hadn't let him out then. We have coyotes in these parts and we try to be mindful of that with the children, at dusk and dawn times especially- when we've actually spotted them. Night, when we hear them, is a no brainer. Cooper's mother disappeared within two weeks of our getting the two of them from Mr. Bee's co-worker who found them abandoned at his apartments. Cooper's been staying in the house much more in recent weeks and I thought that best, but I never intended to break him of his super-fast kitty scratching on the door which indicated his wanting to go out to stalk the green anoles in our carport. He had amazing tree-climbing chops and I thought him savvy enough to survive. It appears I may have been wrong.

I have had many cats over the years and it was a rare year and a half for us to not have any cats when we moved into our current house. I was hesitant to bring a cat out to where we live in the country since our closest neighbors have all manner of fowl, peakcocks most prominently. I've also seen a roadrunner or two in the hood, owls and plenty of other critters whose populations I would be loathe to decrease, but we just broke down with Cooper and his mother Alice and said, "Yes" to the lovely pair. Cooper, who I became quite attached to, loved to be carried around like a baby on his back in my arms, a rare thing for a cat to tolerate. I liked to carry him around so that he could collect kisses from the fam as he purred and stuck his front paws straight up into the air to allow me better access to his belly. Rather than my lifelong tongue-rolled kitty call my Momma taught me, I took to stepping out the door and shreiking in an obnoxious voice, "Where's my kitty?" He always came to that. Perhaps, he still will, but it's been nearly a week. I would love it if some neighbors took him in, as we inadvertantly did our neighbors' dog when they were out of town on a long vacation and their dog-sitter thought her gone, but it's unlikely.

Today is Snaggletooth's sixth bithday. I have wanted our family to get a bunny, likely from the pound where I've seen them, but thought it prohibitive with a cat of late. At other times, we had too many other critters to contend with another and then yesterday I saw a flyer posted on the jacked up bulletin board by our neighborhood's mailbox that someone in the neighborhood was selling bunnies for $15 each. There was a picture, I called one Mr. Bee and then left a voice mail on the 15 year-old girl's cell phone who I came to found out has been raising them herself. She called me about 9:30 last night and was happy to let us come over and get the bunny now known as Scruffy. It's a little soon after losing Cooper, but I know a gifthorse on a bulletin board when I see one. Snaggletooth, who is always getting the left-overs (playing his brother's XBox and having to hear him threaten to never let him play it again when teh Genius doesn't get his way) got to go just me and him to get a surprise present in the dark from a neighbor we've never met. The whole air of mystery around the situation was very exciting. Most importantly, Snaggletooth called it the best day ever. We will have a more proper party of some sort with his friends later in the week, but tonight we're going to take the boys (eldest is out of town and 13 year-old is spending the night with a friend) to a movie at the Alamo Drafthouse Cinema so they can experience the miracle of a queso and pizza-enhanced movie.

I'll be sure to give a prayer of thanks tonight, "Now I lay me down to sleep. I pray the Lord my soul to keep. If George Bush should die before I wake, please thank him for the dough, for goodness sake (and thanks in advance for the favor)." We got our stimulus check Friday, reliably $600 short and on the last day it was promised to be sent by. After a lean week, I took the kids to Mr. Natural. I'm trying to do my best to spite George Bush by spending my stimulus bribe money as locally as possible. I cannot recall in a very long time being more full than I was after my vegan lunch special (plus, I couldn't let Snaggletooth's uneaten veggie tamales to go to waste). Fried eggplant with ranchero sauce is, incidentally, wonderful. When you add a potato and mushroom mix, the best brown spanish rice there ever was, and homemade corn tortillas from heaven, you have the preamble to a vegan cream puff if ever there was one. Holy shit, I was fuller than a fucker (IDK-DA (that's I don't know- Don't ask.)).

Because of the full stomach emergency, the only thing that could be done was to take a one-hour walk and make it a two-hour walk. We parked near the hike and bike trail on Town Lake (a cute little pet name for our neck of the Colorado River) and began our journey. Right away, I warned the boys to douse themselves in the outdoor shower (as it was a cool upper 90's kinda day), they discarded their shoes, which I ended up carrying the whole way (a small price to pay for no complaining) and we proceeded. We saw turtles, fish, geese, ducks, poison ivy, a long, broken rope hanging from a GIGANTIC tree (which caused us to ponder how someone could get down after climbing up to tie it there- a trampoline being placed at the base of the tree was our general consensus, even thought the tree was at the bottom of a steep embankment right next to the river). We saw some clay nests under the Mopac bridge which we surmised were for bats, though we had no idea how bats could create such things. We also saw a ton of people. One caused the Genius to exclaim very loudly, "Man that man's chest is shiny." "Shhhh (giggle)." I guess he had used teh body spray. We saw dogs of all sorts, bicyclists, people canoing and kayaking who we determined were an attacking armada (after seeing the third Pirates of the Caribbean the day before).

I raced the Genius, who takes after his mother in her younger days in being a very fast runner. The good thing is that I did still win, but I really had to try (and peed my pants a little). We were very close and the genius called it a tie, though I really won by a hair (Plus, I had to dodge an oncoming innocent bystander.) I need to practice a bit if I'm going to be the oldest female to compete in the track and field events in the next Olympics at the age of 42, like maybe more than twice a year, though. Snaggletooth took the picture of the cool Yucca seed pod and the one of me and his brother. He's really got an eye for and interest in photography- maybe I'll give him my old gimpy digital camera for his birthday when we get home, as well. With my stimulus bribe money I did just buy an ungodly amount of AA batteries because I needed two and there was a buy one get one free deal at the store. I took the pics of the echinacea and train and the Lamar car bridge from the pedestrian bridge. I am sad that I will likely never have a chance to train Cooper to walk on a leash with us on the hike and bike trail. Goodbye Cooper. I already miss you.


We Interrupt Your Regularly Scheduled Broadcast for a 'Lil Runnin' With The Devil

David Lee Roth's Vocal Track from "Running With The Devil"

It's Dinnertime: Come and Get It!

Here are three more Positions of the Day.

The Beef Burrito

Arc de Triomphe

Stuffing the Turkey

I can be your supplier, or you can go get your own. Either way's fine with me. I'm flexible.


It's Not Opposite Day

I've got sumpthin'. Just joking. I'm really busy cleaning the house today and I have to go put on my make-up so I can look pretty for when I meet up with my husband with our well-mannered children at a restaurant. Forget the pizza buffets and health-food snacks feigning picnic items, I'm through with that.

I'm confident that on this, the deadline promised, and the money not-needed for snaggletooth's timely birthday bash, that our effective stimulus check will be in the mailbox with the $600 we expected added right in. That's okay because right after that, I will go buy a lottery ticket which will surely award us the missing funds and then some.

I never have minded buying lottery tickets and losing in the past because the money goes straight into the coffers of public education, which Perry supports fully, particularly science. I do hear Hannah Montana confirming my well-spoken statements, even as we virtually speak, which I must admit, is just as satisfying as the real thing.

Speaking of which, I hate porn. It's not because it exploits women, but rather because it just doesn't do a thing for me. Plus, I believe what the Bible says about my forgiveness in Jesus if I don't covet porn stars' neighbors, however slutty they are. I would be neglectful if I forgot to mention that I'm rubber and you're glue and what you say bounces off me and sticks to you.

I love how well my children get along. Sometimes I try to encourage them to be like other kids and play video games and get on MySpace every so often, but they just won't have it. They're so busy cleaning their rooms, getting exercise and fighting over who gets to give me a foot massage that I rarely get to spend any time with them negotiating their problems.

My children have been well bathed, with teeth well-brushed all summer. Did I forget to mention that they are not fighting right now as they do not sit for another hour in front of an XBox. They keep begging me to take them to the hike and bike trail so they can practice riding their bikes which I'd like to do to get into shape, but I already worked out for two hours at the gym at 6 AM.

I know I shouldn't have done that since I was supposed to take Fridays off from working out, but I am just an exercizaholic. Oh, there is so much more I have to say and you know I would be loathe to write with nothing important to say, but I must go. I wish you all pink rainbows and fluffy elephants on this gorgeous, spring-like day that the Lord hath blessed. Amen.

P.S. Baby Jesus, I know that today is the day George Bush will be impeached, war is over if we want it, and the democrats will have a change of heart regarding FISA. Please bless BushCO™ as they know not what they do. They only have the nation's best interest at heart, just as I do. Forgive me in advance for getting drunk, Jesus. Actually, join me and we'll get drunk and screw. Amen for real this time.


¡Impeach The Mutha, Already!

Tengrain has made his most compelling case yet, and Dennis Kucinich has taken heed.

Dennis, my main man, emailed me this and I thought I'd share it as Buelahman did:
Dear Friends,

Congressman Dennis Kucinich will present a single Article of Impeachment to the House of Representatives sometime between 3:30 pm and 4:00 pm (EDT) today, Thursday, July 10th.

Sessions of the House of Representatives are broadcast live on C-SPAN (check your local cable listings for channel) and streamed live via the Internet.

The article of Impeachment will deal directly with President Bush fraudulently obtaining support for an attack on Iraq by creating a false case for war. Full details of the Article of Impeachment will be available after they are read on the floor of the House by Congressman Kucinich.

Please spread the word and continue to circulate the online petition that Congressman Kucinich will personally present to members of Congress.

Thank you.
Re-Elect Congressman Kucinich Committee
Sign the Petition!


At Least I Got Myself a Veggie Weiner

Dear Freida,

How are you? Anxious today? I know. You took the lip model to the airport early this morning for a one week visit with her birth father and step mother in Philly. The good thing about that is that they will spoil her silly, her siblings will be jealous, and she will find being home even more boring than usual. The bad thing is that you will miss her.

What pray tell is it that you are anxious about? I know that earlier today the fuckernet was back to its recent shenanigans, but look and see what happens when you just call and ask for help. It's fixed again. The service has merely had problems that its Mac users are experiencing and I know you were heartened that the owner, who lives three doors down, called you himself, assuring you your service was not disconnected, but rather asked what it is that you were experiencing, which made it all the more disappointing that you could not sit and write a post earlier today, but then Matt took care of it in 30 seconds when you just called. Of course, that merely leaves you with worries about using your cell phone. Be sure to thank your shacking up mother-in-law for sending you that video. It helps. You bees are sensitive to such things, I know.

But, you did get the letter that told you that your stimulus bribe check would be $600 less than you expected, which you expected, and you can go get good groceries even as early as tomorrow if you aren't too lazy to walk down to the mailbox and see if it came today. It hasn't been so bad now has it? You have been a baking machine and did the impossible, fed your family of an average of five people home each day on $130 for the week while the usual in the summer is $250. It was a smart move to buy bulk whole wheat flour and nice cornmeal and make those apple muffins, homemade pancakes, excellent homemade cornbread. Hell, you even made that rockin' garlic bread out of bread that had been in the freezer for four months. The giant bag of potatoes, lots of butter, apples and beans were wise choices. That giant bag of frozen okra just happened to be fodder for the best fried okra you've ever made. God, being poor is boring.

Freida, I would really suspect you of being ungrateful if you hadn't smiled your cheatin' ass off over winning a date with a veggie weiner, or maybe it is permanent ownership even. That shit's just what you need, you know. I mean, you're all rested since, at least so far, sleeping's free. You and your veggie weiner should have yourselves a spankin' good time. Yep.

Love, Freida

Oh, and to reinforce what a winner weiner you are...

A Compelling List of 10 Reasons You Should Win Mom Of The Year

1. "Mom, can I watch Homestar Runner, Southpark, and Family Guy even though I'm only 6 (on Sunday)?" "Sure."

2. "What does my thirteen year-old daughter look like again? I think I remember her."

3. No bedtime.

4. Our hidden cameras caught you buying your children lunch at Taco Bell yesterday.

5. You bought candy cigarettes in rural Oklahoma.

6. You took your children to rural Oklahoma.

7. You let your children eat candy cigarettes.

8. You asked your child to pretend smoke.

8. You took a picture of your child pretend smoking.

9. You posted a picture of your child pretend smoking on your blog.

10. Your son placed a wager with promise of paying his brother's future beard as payment.

(Bonus Reason: Your children are strange.)


Two Great Tastes That Taste Great Together

Roscoe's Chicken and Waffles Song

The Buffet Song

A 'Lil Complaining (OK, a Lot)

I shall do my very best to not spend our precious time together complaining. It might be hard, but I put on my iPod to avoid listening to kids for a while and I am about to be hopped up on sugar from the magnificent decaf chai tea (from bags) I have mastered in recent weeks. There's so much, but I don't even have the patience to go into it all. Money, ants, and cuntry bumpkin fuckernet issues have added unnecessary stresses to my day.

Well, the ants got taken care of yesterday as I'm not quite as stubborn about doing it myself in the face of five acres (plus the hundreds of our neighbors) worth of Argentinean fire ants (fortunately a non-biting variety). I can feel good about bringing Chem-Free in to do the job though now my house is covered in pyrethrums that were harsh enough that the organic gardening center I used to work for would not sell them. Since they are plant derived, they are deemed organic, but I bet I'll have to call them back in two weeks. We've been here before. But, this time I signed a contract to get our house blasted with pyrethrums monthly. Goody. Oh god, I'm blogging about ants. They're gone today and that I will be happy about. That challenge was transferred over to the money category, a solution which is so often easiest, but not so often available.

Money, money, money. A little Beck, Radiohead, and REM are trying to realign my thinking. Thanks. So often my impetus to write is discontent, but having the internet be persnickety, I have been inconsistent. I am, however, about to begin Chapter Four of the memoir, though the chapters are shortish. They are what my short attention writing span will grant me. I'm not complaining though. It's further along than I've ever gone before and I'm still going. Wait, I was going to complain about money.

Our stimulus check is due to be sent to us by July 11th, the last round, I think. I'm skeptical and then imagine the bribe for procreating will be omitted. Our landlord/ friend has been infinitely patient with us and we need to give him some govmn't money. I need to patch a tire which has an extraordinarily slow leak. Snaggletooth's sixth birthday is Sunday. At least we have figured out that a Nintendo DS will look very extravagant without being exorbitant, in addition to a birthday party which is so hard to coordinate in the middle of the summer when we are out of touch with school-time friends, not to mention that his best buddy is at his grandparents' for the entire summer. Then there's (let me get the list) car insurance and registration, dentist for snaggletooth, car payment (we're behind), electric (though we cleared up the disconnect notice last week), internet and always... gas, groceries and a few meds. That's in the immediate future; we have to fill the propane tank, get new glasses (particularly for Mr. Bee, but things got smaller this last year for me as well), get things out of the pawn shop, buy books, back to school clothes, shoes, backpacks (maybe a haircut or two), oh, and tuition for back to school, and rent for the fall semester, student health insurance all the week before school starts with my student loan/ grant/ scholarship money (not to mention I have a $500 debt to start with. Oh, and I just found out I've maxed out my subsidized student loan limit in these last four years already of being back in school.

I would love to complain about the fuckernet, but I need to go and get ready for our trek in for a meeting I have, and teh running of the boys. They ride bikes now which is so cool. We have a monster long rock driveway which is not conducive, so the hike and bike trail calls, and then free pools and free internet around downtown. Between that and the still $.85 breakfast tacos at Tamale House, we'll make it though another day.

Have I mentioned we are in infinitely better financial times than we have been in former years. It's true. I just needed a place to vent.

I'm sure I missed the opportunity to blame this on teh Republicans, but just assume that's implied in all of the above.

Even the genius has taken to the candy cigarettes with his chai tea. Yes, it's a violation of the recent intention to remove personal identifiers from the blog, but that is another rant, one I hope to get to sooner rather than later.

I'd like to thank The Flaming Lips, The Black Angels and Spoon for my mood shift.

Time to make the proverbial donuts.


Always Read The Fine Print.

I almost have the song "Muskrat Love" stuck in my head today. I must be feeling all seventies and shit 'cause rather than celebrating Fourth of July in our typical high-pollutin' fashion, after a day of making pancakes and omelettes for lunch (some call that brunch, Freida- "Oh.") and taking four teenage girls to practice driving, I partook in a 'lil game of Spongebob Monopoly wit' tha fam last night. And, out of the contestants, 5 year-old (6 next week- have I been calling him 6 already or what?) and 9 year-old sons, Mr. Bee and I, after playing the game through to completion, I came in fourth. We actually came out in the order quite by accidentally afore-mentioned. Yes, the 5 year-old smeared the lot of us, even requiring his dear old mother to sell her Crusty Crab (teh Park Place substitute) complete with pineapple (instead of house) back to the bank. Oh, the humanity.

Quote of the Week was by a 5 year-old Monopoly master, after mishearing his fifteen year-old sister's saying, "Fuckin' sux": "Oooohh, the f-word is fox?"

Now, hurry along. While I'm having a good hair day all alone here at work, go play. Go on. Go outside for God Sakes with all that energy. Jump on the trampoline, play in the hose, build a table for all I care. Just go outside!

Sorry, I was having a flashback from the days home with kids this week. I need to go run them more often.

P.S.- I took that picture.


Just a Reminder of...

...The Power of Pussy

Happy Flagpin Wearing/ Blowin’ Shit Up Day

Oh no, she isn’t blogging at 1:17AM on the Smurf of July. What is she thinking? Her ear hurts from swimming today (yesterday, technically, she points out), but it was totally worth it she thinks as it started raining and the lifeguards, looking very carefully for lightning, ‘cause they really wanted to go smoke pot (It was about 4:20- Mother Nature’s hip like that.) and hook up wit’ each other when all the poor soccer moms and emo dads finally left. But, there never was any lightning, and they all just swam and frolicked in the rain.

Okay, I don’t have the chops to write in third person. It annoys me honestly. But, then I can say things that I might not directly say about myself. I know, you were wondering if there were things as such, but, well, apparently, there are.

Something political, Something political. Oh yeah, today’s Smurf of July, which ranks just below Thanksgiving on my list of celebratory holidays. When I was a teenager and the thing I did on Fourth of July was to go with my family to some country club celebration (the American Dream, right?), when I wasn’t sneaking drinks, I was having my hair catch on fire. This was circa Michael Jackson’s own hair debacle, and I was teased incessantly for it. Thankfully, the fire started by the bottle rocket shot off by some idiot frat boys that hit my neck was extinguished by my step-father promptly and the damage was minimal, not much more than that of burning my forehead curling my bangs with a curling iron. Oh, the humanity.

And now however many years later, my unpatriotic ass sill hates the holiday. Several years ago, when I was a single mom and my daughters were with their dad for the weekend, I went ahead and got drunk as shit with a couple friends and we bought a shitload of fireworks. It’s totally not worth it. My yard just looked like shit and I wasted a bunch of money.

Another Fourth of July I snuck into Willy Nelson’s Fourth of July Picnic and that totally rocked. I was fucking a fine fellow, teh sperm donor para mi hijo tregundo, and we went and fucked in a creek, got drunk and snuck into Willie’s shindig barefoot. This year I have six kids in house as 13 year-old has decided that she cannot sleep apart from a friend or two all summer. This is a small price to pay for the weeks it’s her turn to stay at friends’ houses, a summer rotation.

I remember that the first and only time I ever stayed out all night when I was still living with my parents was the day before the Fourth of July right after my senior year. You know, that’s when lame duck parents really have little choice but to invite the fellow that just shagged their daughter to the festivities and land fireworks on top of the roof, nearly setting the house on fire and having to spray the house with a hose. I was technically grounded for the rest of the summer for my escapade, but I worked with my summer lover and had nary a care; I had finally figured out the art of ignoring groundings. I fear those days, the days I am irrelevant in my children’s lives, but considering the fact that it seems to be starting sooner than later for one very mature fifteen year-old, I am also looking forward to it.

Today we laughed pretty hard when she was helping me grocery shop, having informed me that we did not need the humongoid cucumber I had put in the cart as we had a couple still left from earlier in the week, and I handed the darned thing to her, big as a whale, and asked her to return it to the produce area which happened to be across the store. She looked at it in her hand and looked at me and laughed. It really was funny; as she was walking off with teh glorious monstrosity in hand, I hollered after her, “Sorry,” the indicator that I knew what she was thinking.

She’s growing so beautifully and has been doing very well lately. She came to me recently, as I never could go to my mother, and told me that she needed to be on birth control, so now my daughter walks around in her skimpy bikini with her patch. I seriously have to fight the guys off. Seriously. I mean seriously. At the pool today a dad of a teenage girl flirted with me. That hasn’t happened in a while and was nice (though I wasn’t interested). His opening line was, “Is that your live-in au pair,” as my daughter took my sons to the playground during the five minute break. She even makes me seem more attractive. Funnily, he wasn’t as interested in flirting after I informed him that she was my daughter (The gold digger- ha). It must have been my Calvin Klein bathing suit I got at Ross Dress for Less two years ago or something, because if there’s one thing that never happens to me, it’s being mistaken for being rich. Maybe, just maybe it’s been because of my formerly hairy legs and armpits. Nah.

Most annoyingly, I am having to write this in word right now as Blogger is inoperable from my laptop and our main desktop these days. My sons’ PC is the only one in the house which will log on properly. It has really been cutting back on my blog reading and I’m not happy about that, but I do what I can. It’s not our computers because both of our Macs are doing the same thing, yet when I logged into my laptop on the UT campus and at a park with free wi-fi a few days before, today things were fine. It’s either our fuckernet service or our wireless router. Boring.

I’m getting sleepy and it’s time to encourage ‘lil Mr. Late Napper that enough’s enough. G’Night
G’Momning Sweets,

Today the lumberjack and I are having a rare day of both being home on days off. I am most interested in writing Chapter 3 (Yes, that’s right) and other tales, but I am pretty sure that the whole laundry room revamption project will take precedence, though I do have his World of Warcraft time to not feel guilty for being a lazy bum on the days when I’m home and he’s at work. It’s hard work procrastinating, you know and lately (for you, DCup) we’ve had ants in our kitchen which makes doing the dishes even less thrilling than previously, but more pressing.

Oh God, I’m blogging about the ants.

I meant to blog about Fourth of July and mention how I don’t really relish my United Statesdomeness. I‘ve never been a very big patriotic person. I think borders are a kinda stupid political device designed to keep the rich richer and the poor poorer, a necessary evil, like wars, right? I think that many of the freedoms we enjoy today are at the expense of other’s freedoms and then recently listening to my dying Republican uncle lament the loss of freedoms in his lifetime and the inevitable Big Brotherness of it all, made me wonder why we’ve disagreed politically really at all. I think the disagreement comes from a very subtly nuanced position on how far one nation should go to protect its way of life.

While I am certainly glad I can purchase what I want when I want, the irony is that I don’t have the money I’d like to have to purchase only products which have zero environmental impact and the alternatives I am left with leave me limp-dicked. The whole red scare mentality that socialized medicine can only accompany ration lines is bs, but when people are suffering from increased environmental diseases, making socialized medicine completely necessary to even have a workforce and water is rationed due to shortages, we’ll celebrate Fourth of July thanking the government that it is protecting us from ourselves, now won’t we?

¡Now, go buy a flagpin at Wal-Mart and watch American Idol, damnit!

(Praise Jesus for the Fourth of July Miracle. Blogger's working for me right now. Jesus must be wearing his flagpin in heaven smiling down on me.)


The Positions of The Day

The Blind Gynecologist

The All-Night Cram Session

The Glass Table