I’m not right – Really.

School starts in three weeks, and I’ve already embarrased my oldest. We were looking through Eline (The online system at school) for his classes and materials lists and I came across the syllibus for 12th grade Bible. David (his teacher) posted they will be studying “Joshua and Judges, Wisdom Literature, and the Pauline Epistles.”

Now it could have happened to anyone really. I mean who refers to Paul’s Epistles as Pauline Epistles?

So I emailed David and asked, in all sincerity, “Who’s She?”

Well, she is really He (Paul) and not some distant cousin, sister, or alter ego. But after sharing my mistake with a girlfriend, we fed off each other and decided that the world really does need a Pauline and her Epistles. So, we’re working on a list of things Paul would have written if he were female…

And now for something completely different: This is the action figure I found in Chicago. “Miracle Hands Jesus” complete with water to wine jug and loaves and fish. The hands even glow in the dark – I thought it was hilarious and wanted to bring it back to show the team, but Jeff wouldn’t let me buy it. Seems he was afraid of lightening striking our car or something.

That reminds me. I dated a boy with miracle hands in high school.

We used to call him the octopus.

If he kept his hands to himself, we considered it a miracle.

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Okay – I’ve told enough bad jokes for one day – be blessed ya’ll and have a wonderful week.

“You know you come from a backwoods church when

your pastor sneezes and you think it’s a baptism.” – Pauline.

Things a Mom Says

I wish I’d written them down. You know those things you wind up saying as a mom that you can’t believe you’ve ever said? Those really weird phrases that go beyond the momisms like “brush your teeth and sit up straight” to the realm of “wow, blue hair. Nice. Yes you can keep it for the summer.” And “no you cannot get your (fill in any body part except ears here) pierced – you’re 12!”

I’ve said a lot of things over the years I can’t repeat mainly because my boys trust me and they are too personal. (They save the really shocking and personal stuff for when Dad is out of town. I return the favor by being equally shocking, honest and personal back. It’s fun.)

There are also other times though that invoke a different type of communication from me. Some of this communication involves my screaming and scrambling behind my sofa (snakes in the house) and others bring out simpler questions like, “So are you trying to kill yourself or did you just want to give me a stroke?”

I have actually learned phrases like “Is there blood? No. Then you’ll live.” And so will I.

And yes, I’ve even said over the years – “Just how stupid do you think I am?”

Never ask a child that, they might tell you.

This weekend, I added two new phrases to my book of I cannot believe I said that statements.

1. “No, you cannot climb onto the roof to make your go-cart look like it’s flying away.”

and

2. “You cannot send a toad into outer space with helium balloons, let it go and use a GI Joe instead please.”

It’s all in a day’s work.

Speaking of a days work, Anita Renfroe (one of my favorite women of all time) put together a video clip of everything a mom might say in a day to music. Enjoy.

Blogging updates

I’ve been using myspace to blog this year and while it *is* a blogging tool, it really isn’t. Aside from my caretaking responsibilities and being a SAHM, I’ve also started two key projects that I promised myself I’d write about. So, for those of you who followed me here from myspace, thank you. If you see some re-written stuff please stay with me while I write through the gardening and remodeling adventures from a new angle. Thanks.

This was my blog from May – revisiting a promise I’d made to myself. I’m learning – Thelma told me not to parrot, I read somewhere “don’t be a spiritual bulemic”, and Carol and friends taught me about aim. Juggling all of those have given me writers block. The good news though – the fog is lifting and even though my writing has been in my journal and not here – it is getting better and once I take the time to edit before I put it up, the results will be worth it.

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May 31, 2008
You know, I’d promised myself that I was going to take more time in my writing, and stop this off the cuff stuff and really write again. I haven’t done it. I also promised I’d lose weight, get organized, quite smoking (fat chance), be well… more like Donna Reed (fatter chance) and edit my blogs before I publish them to check for typos.

To those to young to know or care who Donna Reed is… think Martha Stewart minus the OCD. Donna Reed was one of those wonder moms on TV, always looked nice, always had the right things to say, her kids never swore at her or any of that. Donna was cool. I’m not Donna – I’m a cross between Erma Bombeck and Rosanne Barr – only better looking.

Anyway – this is one of those, I’m writing to write days.

My garden gave me the beautiful gift of a climbing rosebush in bloom. I have over a dozen roses ready to pop at any moment. A few already have and they are the most beautiful shade of salmon pink I can imagine. I love it. That makes up for my now completely dead front rose garden – it seems I moved four roses bushes that were contaminated with FireBlight and well, killed the whole kaboodle. oh well. At least I have my climber.

I wrote a beautiful rant today about tag ripping and so called signature tag artists who take our work off of photobucket – remove our watermarks, copyrights and licences and have the nerve to add their name to it. It was great, and it’s lost in cyber space… guess myspace wasn’t in a rant allowing mood today.


I love being a jewlery artist (A PAID ONE NOW BTW _ THAT MAKES ME OFFICIAL W00T!) – I love learning how to create signature tags and work with commisioned artists and I love keeping the laws and rules surrounding thier work.

Why? Beacuse I want people to do the same with me, and with my husband (Song writer / Singer) – It’s just stealing otherwise. Artists work hard to create their work – we spend hours on our stuff – a piece of our souls goes into everything we create.

Even when I did comedy – I tried really hard not to be a hack – (Someone who steals and uses other people’s jokes) and did my own. I’ve written jokes on here from time to time – but I always gave credit. It’s the right thing to do.

I’ve learned a ton in the last few years – studying comedy, working on my art, planting a garden that I really hope doesn’t die, and trying to write. I like some things enough to keep at it like jewelry design (I’m getting really good), I like some things enough to simply watch – like stand up – laughing at a joke is waaaay more fun to me than telling one.

I also learned a few weeks ago that I do not HAVE to pray with everyone who offers to pray with me. Someone wanted to pray with me and jeff and in her prayers asked God to return the love to our marriage. I almost smacked her.

There are good prayers – and there are mean prayers… to pray something like THAT uninvited with no real knowledge of the relationship or the people is just wrong. Her pray implied that love had left, which is far from the case.

And I learned that the pain caused by my people pleasing – (makeing myself smile and not hit her) far exceeded anything I would have experienced had I simply spoken up and said “WOW, that was out of line.” Why? Because I would have gotten it out that minute and not still harboring it three weeks later. That’s why. People pleasing silence leads to poisonous resentment in me.

And on an up note, I learned I really do not want to witness my son’s root canals ever again. (He’s 15 with his first real cavity and it needed a root canal, poor guy) They brought me in yesterday for moral support. I found him laying on a vibrating chair, with nitrous oxide (laughing gas) and cartoons to watch over head. He was fine.

Me? They stuck me in the corner in a straightback chair with no sedation (yeah make a mom watch someone drill in her kids mouth and not sedate her – smart move doc!) and nothing to watch but my son so that I could pounce on Mr Endonstist the minute my son shows any pain whatsoever. He didn’t and I got bored. The doctor had fun watching me curl up in the fetal postion and hide my face from time to time though – I was little queazy. Yep – that was a fun way to spend two hours.

Gotta go.. my peanutbutter chocolate chunk supreme frozen cookie dough is here. I know Donna Reed would have made her cookies from scratch. But hey, at least I’m making cookies for boys! It’s a start.

My Poor Guinne Pig (not for the weak stomached)

Warning – this is not for the easily queasied…but this is my life today.

Snickers – our family guinne pig, passed to his peaceful rest, right in front of the vet’s office. In my sons arms. As I was putting the car into park. One minute he’s here, the next he isn’t. I had an appointment. I’m wondering how one discretely walks into the vet’s office to tell them you won’t be needing the appointment after all. I mean I had to tell her, I didnt’ want to be charged for a no show. So, I leaned over the desk and very quietly explained the predicament. Poor gal – didn’t know what to say. And frankly neither did I. Oh well.

Sad as I am to see snicker’s go. – I was slightly grateful that my son is now 15 and not five. We’ve burried 3 hamsters, umteen fish, three lizards, a few frogs, about five or so hermit crabs, an entire aquarium of “sea monkeys,” a cocker spaniel and another guinne pig that we had on loan from school. We’ve burried a lot of animals in our life time. Except Trapper – our cocker spaniel – him we had cremated. He now sits on the top shelf in my husband’s music room.

While Dillon is not immune to losing pet’s, he’s a little more used to it now, I guess, he still has a heart. He’s grown to accept death as part of life and knows that while our days are numbered, so are the days of our pets. Snickers was no exception. Except that he was only 4, and he passed due to fumes in our kitchen – we were having it painted and it didnt’ even occur to me until it was too late that the fumes might be toxic to the little guy.

That’s probably why I let him do it. – I don’t normally allow animals to be burried in our yard – well, except for the hamsters – they were little. But with snickers, I kinda felt guilty. Okay I felt a LOT guilty. So I let Dillon build a casket (out of wood) and he and his brother burried the poor guy in the farthest corner of our yard while dad was out of town.

I told my husband about it when he got back from his trip – and while he wasn’t happy about having an animal burried in the yard, he was willing to accept it.

Two weeks passed and while I was out of town at a speaker’s conference, Jeff (my husband) found a small dead possom in the yard – not to be gross, but the dogs were dragging it around and he and Charlie had to distract them to get it away from them and properly dispose of it – (Trash bin). This possum was in pretty bad shape from the sounds of it, and I was glad to hear they got it away from the dogs and into the trash.

Then I went to work in my gardens and checked on the grave while I was there. Alas – the tomb was empty. I saw the bottom and sides of the, well, casket, but no top – and no snickers. So how do you tell your boys that wasn’t a possum? I quietly decided not to. And I left the head stone and planted new monkey grass on that spot. They will never know.