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Aug. 28th, 2009

How To Know It's a Blood Sugar Incident...

When you find yourself sitting on the kitchen floor washing down a mouthful of hot dogs with a bowl of Coca Pebbles with no other thought than "OK SUGAR NEXT" instead of the rational thought "Ew."

So, to all my GF Cohorts: Ballpark all beef franks are gf as are rice chex, cocoa pebbles, string cheese, milk, jet pufft marshmallows, and Coca cola.

And I"m not feelin so well anymore.

Aug. 18th, 2009

How Many How Much?

How many slams in an old screen door?
     Depends on how loud you shut it.
How many slices in a bread?
     Depends on how thin you cut it.
How much good inside a day?
     Depends on how good you live 'em.
How much love inside a friend?
     Depends on how much you give 'em.

--Shel Silverstein

Ok, Really?

Does everyone have to call at the same time??

Aug. 14th, 2009


I am a climbing wall, horse, piggy-back-ride giver. Toehold, swing, ball player. Remote control. Chock Milk pourer and mixer. I tried locking myself in the bathroom to ahve a conversation but she figured out the lock.

I wanted a smart kid. THis is my own fault.

Can we go back to camp?

May. 1st, 2009

Death Can't Find a Seneschal

Wonder what in the hell I was thinking when I wrote that note?

Apr. 30th, 2009

Good Idea

Bad idea:

Things not to discuss with patrons if you are a waiter at a resort:

1. Politics.

2. Race Relations in a country that you have never even visited.

3. George Bush.

4. How my economy trashed your economy...when I'm spending a crapload of money in your country...and in fact, tipped you quite nicely the last time you were my waiter.

O Chocolate Bunny

How I missed you while I was away. Your cheap chocolate waxiness like no other, melting into lumps in my mouth. I left you stuffed in a bag with all the other chocolates while I jetted off to exotic locales, lounged on beaches, basked in the sun. Flirted with some foreign brand that promised flavor in the roll of a German accent. And then those those irresistable words "May Contain a Trace" that play delicately with my sense of danger...bringing out that youthful rebel in me yearning for adventure. It all brought me over the edge. I didn't even think of you as infidelity melted so lustrously in my mouth, bringing me new understanding of what chocolate can be..........so smooth. So....delicate. So......perfect.

It was then, my dear bunny that I realized on the burning crash of reality....it's what you don't have that makes all the difference. The very important difference, my quotidian companion...you don't have a trace.

So, my dearest of dears as I rip open your pastel wrapper to reveal what I once took for grated...know this. For me there will never be a better sight in all the world than you, Cheap Chocoalte Bunny.

Mar. 4th, 2009

Cold Water

Every winter I look out at the frozen pond and wonder if this is the year someone slips through the ice...a someone being one of the Labradors. I wonder how I will get him out (we have two; both boys), if I will fall in as I try, if he will fall in one night when we let him out...all that stuff. Today we wandered out and  I watched as each one of them went to run on the pond and stepped through where it had melted to paper thin by the beach. Kinda relieved, I thought it was a learning experience for them. They drank, we (Huzbin me, Z and Labs) continued our stroll. Past the oaks, around the corner. Backside of the pond, Loki slips through the ice about 10 or so feet from the shore...beyond where the slope is, to where the water is about 5 feet deep in that part (grateful that it's not the part that's 15 ft, but still...I'm 5'7").

We wait to see if he can get a grip. We call; he looks encouraged. He gives each of us that look of "Mommy I'm scared!"

I was the one to go out on the ice because I'm the lightest. Slide slowly on my belly, surprised at how well the ice is holding me, grab his collar and start to pull. IT's when my coat started to fill with water that I realized exactly what was happening...the chunk of ice we were on wasn't so much split as just folding and sinking under combined weight of Loki and me. Ok, so that was when I started to panic. I went from "Help the dog work it out on his own..." to "GET OUT!!!" and dragged him by the collar. Kinda pitched him back and away from the caving-in and then scrabbled as the ice sank.  Kinda weird movie stuff really.

I didn't fall through, but I was soaked head to toe. Got a big hug from Huzbin--I think he was surprised; he told me he was impressed (warm fuzzy).

I gave up on the rest of the walk, went inside threw my clothes in the washer and got in a hot shower.

Now, at least I know I can do it.

Feb. 8th, 2009


I have said before that I have never been so wholly moved to violence than I have when someone messes with my kid. And even still I find I am on a whole new level now.

Yesterday, I went to visit some friends in a nearby town and we met at one of those indoor mall playgrounds; it was fairly deserted--ours being the only children there. The girls were running amok, having a time of it, and we the parents were chatting as we always do. Out of the corner of my eye, from up the mall I see a man walking...rather pointedly toward the play area. Something wasn't right about him (and I've been in intimate company with someone not right in this flavor. It's a very distinct energy about them. Some call it "predator sense" and most people feel a direct need to either flee or destroy. Seriously? Obey this sense. It's there for a reason). We were all utterly silent at this moment as the man jogged along the side of the play area, keeping stride with my friend's kid--his expression best described as a starving wolf with a rabbit in his sights. He walked back to the side of the play area we were on, watched for a few seconds more then wandered into a women's clothing store to--I kid you not--paw at the women's clothing.

My friends looked at me and said,  "That is a registered sexual predator. His picture was in the paper a few days ago." We grabbed our daughters and went back to their place to call the police, and try to come down off of that moment (with a little help from Jack).

I'm home now and I'm still on edge. I can't say I"ve felt that strong of a desire to destroy. "Fight" is too mild. "Kill" seems too clean.

All I can really do is to tell the story to my friends and say:

Parents. Look online. Get to know their faces. Do not feel you need to be nice. Don't be afraid to call the police.

Jan. 29th, 2009

Brise Notes....

....Rustmon started it.

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