This past week, HDHusband has been on a business trip to Lisbon, Portugal. He got home last night. This trip was the last of many for a long time.

I went to the grocery store today to restock on everything - we were out of EVERYTHING. I made pancakes for dinner last night because I couldn't find anything else. Nothing. Nada. So, as you can imagine, I had a lot of groceries. And a lot of groceries to unload means time to make conversation with The Checker.

Him: Wow, that's a lot of food!
Me: Yup. We've been gone a lot this month. Time to restock the shelves.
Him: Where did y'all go?
Me: Philly, Portland, Grand Junction ... and then my husband got home from Portugal last night.
Him: Did you have a good time?
Me: My husband did, yes.
Him: Did you get the Rick Steves book on Portugal?
Me: Yes, actually. I gave him a copy before he left.
Him: Did you take the tours they mention in the book?
Me: My husband was there for a meeting. He didn't have time.
Him: Did you like the food?
Me: I didn't go. My husband did.
Him: Did you buy that pretty necklace there? (pointing to my neck)
Me: No, I didn't go to Portugal. My husband did.

And on and on this conversation continued for what seemed like an eternity. The Bagger shows up, hears something about Portugal, sees my necklace and asks me the same thing.

I gave the fuck UP.

I told them I had a GREAT time in Portugal. I told them I LOVED the food. I told them the country was GORGEOUS. I told them I would go back in a HEARTBEAT.

FOR FUCK'S SAKE!

And as I was leaving, shaking my head, they BOTH turn to me and say: "Welcome back to the country!!"

Thanks! No really!!!

PS HDHusband had a great time. Saw lots of cool shit. Brought back some Port and a beautiful scarf from the Maritime Museum for his wife who, unbeknownst to him, was stuck in a house, sick, with the flu, with a toddler, who had the flu, as well. Yay for my time! Momma's having some Port to celebrate!

We get a lot of junk on our door. I come home and we have an assload of advertisements shoved in the door, under the mat, everywhere. I never, ever look at them. Ever.

But today, this one caught my eye, and after sharing it with Laurie, she asked (insisted) I post it and share it with the rest of you:

"Want a clean house? Call the profecionals. For all your cleaning neads call FIRST CLASS CLEANING at blah blah number We Clean Homes and Small Buisineses As if thir wer ower own (with pride) We cater to your Schedual"

(underneath, cut-off, is a bunch of Spanish that I'm sure is entirely fucked up, too. No, wait ... TWO)

ALL HALE!

It came to my attention recently that the last real boyfriend I had (before HDHusband came into the picture) is getting married this month. This will be Wife #3. Or at least, that's the last count I knew of ... After I picked myself up off the floor from laughing my fucking ASS OFF, I thought about the conversation we had on the night he broke up with me.

Oh, and that would have been ON MY BIRTHDAY at dinner downtown.

We had a nice dinner. Nothing out of the ordinary. And then came the, "We need to talk ..." bit. Now, I will say I was really ready to end the relationship with him. I didn't know how to go about doing so, so it really chapped my ass that he got to it first.

He tells me there are a few things he doesn't like about me, and these things he "just can't live with":

1. I'm not skinny enough (I was 5'6", 135 lbs, maybe)
2. I didn't know enough important people in town
3. I didn't 'network'

Hmmm.

This coming from the guy who had bounced around as a construction worker to some 'management position' (coughliarcough) at a local company. He wouldn't know networking if it bit him in the ass and gave him a courtesy reach around.

So I sat, silent, and listened to him as he spewed forth all of this mumbo-jumbo. And then ... then he gave me my birthday present. A watch. He said, "HDW, don't give it back. I want you to keep it. I picked it out for you." ... to which I replied (as I got my coat), "Oh, I will. Because I want to remember what it's like to WASTE TIME!". Got up, left Mr. Networking to pick up the check, took a taxi, went home.

A year goes by. I'm planning my wedding to HDH and clearing out an old email account. There's a familiar name in my Inbox. Hmm! Seems Mr. N had moved to California to be with a woman he was nailing while we were together, and she had kicked his ass out because ... he didn't know enough important people. HA! I was truly crying, laughing. Karma can be SUCH a bitch. He also informed me he had 'found Jesus'. Funny. I didn't know he was lost.

I heard through the grapevine that he eventually got saucy at a bar in CA, nailed an ex porn star, got her prego with twins, and had to move back to town to get family support. I saw him once when he moved back to town. He had started peddling HAIR PRODUCTS to various upscale salons in town. I happened to be sitting in a chair in one salon, with foil in my hair, and no makeup on. You know, we women tend to imagine those reunions with us looking, well, not like we're trying to received some alien communication. Whatever. He didn't see me, and I made fun of him some more with my hairdresser. Tool.

After our break-up, he called me once to tell me he was sorry he broke my heart. Ah, poor shitforbrains! He didn't break my heart. I told him he just 'offended my dignity'. I wonder if he knew what those big words meant??

So, good luck on Marriage #3. I wish you well, I wish you far.

I did a lot of running around over the weekend. Between the Car Incident and the Castle of Doom, there was a lot going on .

I didn't mention the night before, though. I was (again) chasing after my two-year-old son, and as we were going out the front door of Chili's, he decided to dart into the parking lot. There weren't any cars coming, but I felt the need to grab him anyway.

I slipped and fell hard. (new-ish shoes, no traction, hill, whatever) I was flat on my ass. So, I have a giant bruise on my ass. I will not be sharing that with you, but suffice to say, it's big and painful.

I woke up Monday - after Hell that was my weekend - to this bruise on my knee. NO CLUE how I got it, but it hurts.

I'm falling apart, people.



Also, this morning, my son made that ever-so-unmistakable 'face' while we were in the garage, of all places. A few hiccups then, BAM! Barf everywhere. We were covered. I had barf in my ear, down my shirt, in my hair.

Oh, to be a Mommy.

We are so very, VERY lucky today.

We were at a local Greek festival (more on that later) early this afternoon. After a temper tantrum because my two-year-old son couldn't stay in the blow-up dinosaur castle thing (I had to go inside and retrieve him, making my husband crack up ... ha ha, you oversized bastard, your turn next), we opted to go home.

As we were walking back to our car, my husband got paged and had to answer a phone call. I was walking after my son. Now, we are having SERIOUS ISSUES with the listening part. My son turns off his hearing and takes off, with no mind to anything around him. I am two steps behind him. We are approaching an entrance to another parking lot. I am looking for cars coming into the parking lot. I couldn't see any coming through the parking lot, that would be turning the corner to come out the entrance I was looking at.

Right as I'm telling my son to "Stop!" and "Wait for Mommy!", he steps out into the lane and a car SCREECHES TO A STOP. Had my son been another half of a step, he would have been hit by this car - an INNOCENT party. My son was way, way too close from their bumper.

I pulled him back by the arm to the curb, and I sat him down so fast I think his head spun around. I grabbed my son's cheeks, put my face so close to his and kept saying, "DO YOU KNOW HOW LUCKY YOU ARE! DO YOU KNOW HOW LUCKY WE ARE!", all the while crying (well, no, BAWLING). He was scared, and he started crying.

Luck, divine intervention, something. There was a hand, I swear to you, that stopped the car. And I, forever, will be eternally grateful for that hand, too. In fact, as my son was being whisked away to the car by a very scared Daddy, I sat on the curb, sobbed, and thanked the Lord He saved my baby. Yes, folks - it was THAT close.

On the ride home (me in the backseat, comforting a hiccuping sobbing child - and a sobbing, hiccuping mommy), I could only think about two little kids from my hometown: one killed in a tragic head on collision on a country road, and another little boy lost in a snowstorm, all within years of each other.

I knew that second little boy very well. He grew up in my church. I remember when he was a baby and they used him as Baby Jesus in the church play. He had three older sisters (the oldest just older than me by a year). He was a wonderful little boy.

We had an awesome blizzard in 1997. It dumped so much snow on our state, burying all fences and livestock in our little community. This little friend of mine was 10. He was helping his dad in the barn. He was going to go from the barn to the house, but he never made it to the house. The blizzard was so bad - he got lost, turned the wrong direction. Someone said he maybe tried following the dog, but the dog knew how to get back home.

The town rallied in the meantime. They sent out tractors and anything that could move in that snow. 4-wheelers. Snowmobiles. People came from everywhere. Including one of my dad's hired helpers. Tim found him the next day, after the snow had stopped, miles away. He had stumbled all that way, in the freezing cold, looking for his house. When they got him into town finally and the medical service was waiting, they put in fluid to warm him up. The word was that that actually stopped his barely beating heart.

A sad story. A heartbreaking, heart-wrenching story.

I hope to NEVER know what his parents felt. Parents should never bury their child. You do everything you can do to keep them safe. You put up safety gates and stick plastic bits into the sockets in your wall. You move the Clorox from under the sink to somewhere else 'just in case' he gets in through that safety lock. You make sure car seats are installed properly. You move away the choking hazards. You are always on the damned defense. ALWAYS.

And they still might get lost in a blizzard.

And they still might be in a car, driven by a big brother who doesn't see the oncoming pickup with a mom and five kids coming up over the hill.

And the still might step out into traffic.

But today ... we are just so. very. lucky.

BIG FAT EDIT: Why, you might ask? After I wrote this post, we went next door to celebrate our neighbor's son's 1st birthday. Because there were kids of all ages, they got a giant blow-up castle. While the rest of the kids are hanging out watching a puppet show, my kid is jumping around in the castle. He's bouncing around, all happy. All of a sudden, the castle starts collapsing, and my baby is inside. Apparently, a FUSE had blown and it dropped like rocks. He was inside crying, yelling for me. I'm trying to hold up an end so he can breathe. We have to yell for help. Four guys are doing something and one guy dives in and gets my son. He's fine. I'm not. I'm going to drink tonight, folks. LOTS.

Oh, and I am trying to upload a photo of the castle, but BLOGGER SUCKS.

ONE LAST EDIT ... maybe:

Click here for the official photo of the Castle of Doom and Death

My friend ElHeffe.

A chicken farmer.

My friend for 10 years.

Love'em like a brother. He called a few minutes ago from his cell phone, driving tractor.

El Heffe: Huh. There's a big tree in the road.
Me: Really?
El Heffe: Wow. Never mind. That's a peacock.

This is enough to post for now:

Have courage for the great sorrows of life and patience for the small ones; and when you have laboriously accomplished your daily task, go to sleep in peace. God is awake. (Victor Hugo)

Yesterday was a busy frickin' day. I got to go all SECRET SQUIRREL (props to Laurie)!!

I was pulling out of my driveway when I saw the mail truck coming down our street. Got out of my car and decided to wait for him. I get my mail, it's a bunch of stupid shit. As I'm getting back into my car, I see this very, very familiar car meandering down our street, following our mail truck.

The car is stopping at various houses for minutes at a time, kind of stalling in the street, pulling over at strange places, going about a mile an hour.

What did yours truly do? I got in my fucking car and followed the bitch. Late model Crown Victoria or Lincoln Towncar. Black, four-day, pretty junky. And as I'm following it, the driver (an older black woman, big ass hair, maybe a wig, with a huge scarf wrapped around, lookin' all INNOCENT ... "Oh, look at me! I'm just out for a drive, casing your neighborhood! Don't mind me!") is obviously not paying attention that I am right behind her, watching her go up and down all of our streets.

I take down her plate number. Texas plate. I am kicking myself still for not having my cell with me then. I should have called the police. In fact, I stopped at a friend's house on that end of our neighborhood, hoping they'd be home so I could use their phone.

While following her, I'm remembering seeing this car once before, a few years ago. She was driving and a younger kid (teenager, maybe?) in the passenger seat. It wasn't long after that (week or two maybe?) that our mail was stolen out of our box.

I continue watching this car go up and down our streets for about 15 minutes. She finally stopped at one corner and just PARKED. I drove up next to her and gave her the world's nastiest STINK EYE I could muster. She looked around like she was waiting for the sweet Lord Jesus to come down and tell her something ... then turned the corner and left.

After calling the Non-Emergency number ('cause, um, she was LONG GONE and had I known she was gonna hang around for 15-20 minutes and make a Day of it, I would have called sooner), I emailed our little Neighborhood Watch group. Usually, the people on this list send ridiculous emails about, "Some dog just shit in my lawn! I'm taking REVENGE!!" and I ignore them.

This time, a fellow neighbor responds that they saw this car roughly five times last year, same license plate number, and described the Crazy Woman to a "T".

Pisses me off, really. GET A FUCKING REAL JOB. Why steal people's mail?? What the fuck, you inbred fucks?? Do you have nothing better to do?? I hope the find you and crucify your stupid ass for taking what is not yours.

And on a much more POSITIVE note: I had dinner with Kath last night. Had a great time catching up!!

OH, and the Rainbow People are converging upon our state. They drove through my hometown when I was in high school - at least 15 years ago . We lived a mile off the interstate. They tried setting up camp in our pasture.

My dad removed them and their peace and love vans, too.

Silly hippies.

Last week - on Wednesday afternoon - , I called my neighbor and asked her if she'd be willing to check our mail while we were gone on this last trip. This meant walking a few steps to the north on Thursday, Friday and Saturday, picking up our mail and papers.

The end.

Conversation went like this:

Me: Hey, do you mind getting our mail tomorrow through Saturday? We leave in the morning and will be back mid-afternoon on Saturday.
Her: Sure, girlie! No problem. I'll get papers, too. I'll just leave it on my dining room table.
Me: Great!

I also see her outside that night, and thank her AGAIN for picking up our mail.

We are pulling into our driveway on Saturday afternoon, about 1:00, and there is a plethora of papers on our step, at the rate of two per day. Not good (but fucking OBVIOUS, wouldn't you say??). HDHusband opens the mailbox, mumbling something about, "Bet that idiot forgot our mail, too", and sure enough, it is brimming with our mail. Nice.

She finally calls me yesterday ('cause I was steaming pissed and didn't feel like talking to her) and leaves this message.

Tell me what YOU think, people:

"Hey, girlie! I've been checking your mail the last couple of days and there hasn't been anything in there. Maybe (other neighbor friend) is getting your mail? I'm not sure. I do have 'some' of your mail. But maybe I wasn't supposed to be getting it? I don't remember. Maybe I wasn't supposed to do it at all? Anyway, call me and let me know".

Now, let's review:
1. I asked her on Wednesday, and she said she would pick up mail.
2. She had to drive by my house all of those days, seeing the papers piling the fuck up, and didn't think, "Oh man! I need to get that shit off their step!"?
3. Because we got home on Saturday and have been doing our own mail Mon-now, has she been stupid enough to check our mailbox while we are actually home??

What a fucking dingbat.

If you forgot, just say you did. But it's really hard to jack something like that up, especially when you have to drive by our house to get to hers. Good thing I didn't ask her to water my plants.

But seriously - what do you think?

We went to an outdoor concert last night at our local Botanic Gardens. A beeeeeyuuuuuutiful venue. You can bring in your own wine, food, chairs, blankets - sit under the stars and listen to great music. And even if the music is marginal at best, you are still under the stars with wine in hand, hanging out.

The singer last night played a particularly melacholy kind of song. I happened then to decide to change my son's wet diaper. As I was laying him down on the grass (and as everyone was quieting down to hear the song), my kid starts freaking out.

What was he yelling, you might ask?

"HEP! HEP! HEP! HEP! HEP! HEP! HEP! HEP! HEP! HEEEEEEEEEEP!"

(for 'help')

A lot of people around us started giggling too. Joking about 'what are you doing to that kid?' and 'do we need to call Child Protective Services'?'.


And this one is for Fyrchk ... while in the store yesterday buying stuff for our picnic basket, a guy came over the overhead speaker to announce something or other.

HDToddler points up to the ceiling, gets quite incensed, and yells, "NO! YOU SCHOPPY!!" (which, for those of you who don't know Toddler-Speak, is "No, You Stop it!").

Very funny.

Don't know where he gets that phrase.

Hmmm.

My friend sent me this email earlier today:

On August 16 at 8:30PM, there will be an outdoor screening of the original "The Shining" on the grounds of the Stanley Hotel in Estes Park. How cool is that?

Preeminent horror author Stephen King wrote half of the novel "The Shining" while vacationing in room 217 of this hotel. In addition to its regular guests, this Rocky Mountain landmark hotel is said to play host to a number of supernatural visitors. The screening will take place on the grounds of the Stanley Hotel.

Screening Location: Stanley Hotel
Address: 333 Wonderview Ave Estes Park, CO Google Map
Screening Time: 8:45
This screening is free, seating is first come first serve.


I laughed and sent this along to a friend who has serious issues with this movie. Anytime "REDRUM" was said, he'd freak out. Still. All these years later. When he responded to the email I sent, it said, "I may have to leave the state the first part of August".

And this prompted me to think back to the R-rated movies I saw as a kid and to think about which ones scared me shitless. I remember vaguely one about a peanut butter factory. It wasn't R, but it sucked and scared me to hell. And another movie about a comet coming to earth and leaving little tails on the back of necks, and you'd know they were 'infected' that way. Again, no name to go with the movie, but I'm okay with that.

All of this then reminded me of my ridiculous mother, who was so sure she was going to save us from seeing these scary, horrible movies. She'd do anything to keep us from seeing anything that might be bad. I remember when Top Gun came to town. We weren't allowed to see this, although all of our friends got to go. I was so pissed. We had a lot of 'making up' to do movie-wise. I didn't see The Shining or Top Gun or anything else until well after my mom stopped controlling things.

But best of all, my mom threw down on a TV show and wouldn't let us watch it ever. I can see being worried about the language in movies or sex scenes, whatever, but what did she forbid us to see??

Doogie Howser, MD

She said (and I quote): "It is the decline of children's television".

That explains a lot about my childhood, really.

I went to the doctor's office yesterday for a routine check-up. Had some issues I wanted to talk about, but truly, nothing Earth shattering. Scheduled my appointment, showed up on time.

I walk into the office and up to the receptionist's desk. We do the usual song and dance of "same insurance?", I give her my $5.00 co-pay. She hands me paperwork to fill out, a yellow copy for my co-pay, and gives me the money and tells me to go down to another room and give the person at the desk all of this I have in my hands.

I go down the hall and find the "blue room" I'm supposed to be in. Sitting behind the desk is a very, very bitchy woman that I'll call, oh, BITCHY RAG. I tell her the front desk has asked I bring all of this to her, and she said, "Keep the money and the yellow receipt". I tell her it was my co-pay, not change. She again tells me to keep my money. (Now, Karma is a bitch and I know if I were to pocket that money, it would come back and bite me hard in the ass.) I again explain the situation to her. She looks at me like I am the dumbest person she has ever encountered. I feel the same towards her, so that is something nice to have in common.

And then ...

SHE ROLLS HER EYES. AT ME.

I am not stupid. I didn't get through my life eating my lunch. I am fairly bright person. I don't need EYES ROLLED at me. And especially by an over-entitled rag.

I look at her with all the "You fucking cow" look I could muster, and say (once again), "This IS my co-pay. I pay $5.00 every visit. I gave her FIVE DOLLARS. The woman at the front desk gave it back to me to give to you. Do you want it or not?"

(Seems the girl at the front desk was new and didn't understand she was to keep the money. I'm thinking this isn't a great day for their money bag, but whatever.)

I take the money back to the front office, the girl apologizes profusely.

In the examination room, the fun really begins. I will not be seeing a doctor, apparently, but a nurse practioner. And the NP is the BITCH RAG. Oh yes, how lucky am I!! She somewhat apologizes for the mix-up. And by somewhat, I mean, acknowledges the girl up front didn't know her ass from third base.

The NPBITCHRAG has also brought in a Resident NP. He is very nervous. He looks like this guy:



He is new. He is nervous. He is training. He doesn't speak the best English. NPBTICHRAG tells me that she will be finishing up on another patient, and he will take my H & P.

Fine.

I came in for four things: Really bad headaches that are becoming way more frequent, having trouble falling asleep at night, Allergies, and to check and see about the moles on my back.

The conversation went like this at one point:

Him: You have eyes?
Me: What?
Him: You have eyes?
Me: Eyes. Yes. Eye pain, maybe?
Him: Yes, pain eye.

OH. MY. GOD.

So going through a series of questions like this through all four of my 'problems' was so, so painful. He was trying, I give him that. A very nice guy.

NPBITCHYRAG comes back and in slumps down in her chair, barking out orders at Mr. Bean, and haranging him for not spelling some very simple word right. He was trying to type into the computer while she is yelling out how to spell a word.

At one point, she said, "So tell me about your lesions".

LESIONS?? I have no "lesions". He had typed "lesions" instead of "moles".

I got out of that appt. in under 30 minutes, with three scripts and a referral to have Plastics take off my moles.

No, wait. My LESIONS.

Not a single photo of me from this last trip. I've learned that if a photo is going to get taken, I must do it myself.

1. HDT can count to ten. He skips the number ONE, but the rest is spot on. I'm going to be one of those mom's that has to tell everyone about every little achievement. Who cares. Be forewarned.

2. His newest phrase (when asked any question) is, "Yeah! SURE!". Slays me every time. He's picked it up in the last week or so. No idea where it came from - honestly. It's cracking us up.

3. HDT is extremely affectionate. Lots of snuggles and nuzzles (which are like head butt's, actually). Loves doling out the love and kisses. When we ask HDT for a kiss, he gives it in a heart beat. He loves offering them, as well. Calls them "koff?". Maybe a blend of "kiss" and "love" (my brother calls kisses the latter).

4. My son ADORES my brother and my nephew. My nephew is named Philip. My son calls him "Feekie". We're not sure how or why, but HDT was CRUSHED to find out the little boy at the pool a few days ago wasn't "Feekie".

5. HDT knows the sign for elephant and when he sees one, he gives the sign right away. Put your arm up in the air like it's a trunk, make an elephant noise, and you have my son every time he sees one. While in Grand Junction, he saw a manatee on television. He gave the "elephant sign" for that, too. Not a rocket scientist yet.

Yet.

We're back from our quick trip to Grand Junction for a meeting.
A few key points to mention:

1. HDToddler is still on Portland, OR time, I think. So he was still 'unwinding' at 11 on Thursday night (read: HDH was 'playing' with him). Which is not fun when you are all sharing one room - when Daddy wants to read before bed - and when HDToddler feels like banging away on the wall.

2. When turning out the light to go bed (finally), Daddy remembers he hasn't hung up his shirts yet. He turns on the light and does this. Lights back off. Me settling HDT back to bed ("Mommy! Mommy! Daddy! NIGHT-NIGHT! No!")

3. A few minutes later, HDHusband remembers he needs a wake-up call for 6:00 a.m. I believe I used every expletive I could come up with. Turned to the phone by the bed, and realized this phone did not work. I had to get up and go back across the room, re-arousing my son from sleep, to call for this stupid wake up call. Not happy. My husband would like to note that the only time I was not cussing him out or not cussing at all was when I picked up the phone to call the front desk.

4. While HDH was in his all-day meeting, HDT and I hung out at the pool. HDT had fun, I got burned. Good times had by all!

5. Later in the afternoon, we drove to a nearby town to see the Dinosaur Museum. My son would still be there, yelling back at the automated dinosaurs if he could.

6. Went to Two Rivers Winery for a little wine and cheese event. While my husband was mingling and have a nice little shi-shi time, his wife was chasing after their son, who spent the majority of the time behind the dumpster, eating dirt, and being tempted by the irrigation pond. I'm sure the wine was great. Really. (Sidenote: My son got mad at one point, threw his hat, and it knocked the stem off of my first glass of wine. Nice.)

7. We went to dinner and I slammed the drinks there.

8. We drove home yesterday. HDToddler had gotten up on 15 minute increments starting at 4:45 and ending at 6:45 (after falling asleep at 10:45, of course). When he finally fell asleep in the car, we had to pull over for gas. My husband got out and slammed the door; therefore, waking up HDToddler. Only positive about that stop was seeing the name of our gas station:



9. We got home in time for a work picnic. HDToddler did a half-header into the koi pond, drank some of the water (on purpose) and insisted on going back for more. He smelled nasty.

10. We left this party, and went to another for my friend turning 39. HDToddler spent the majority of the time picking on an ELEVEN YEAR OLD BOY. My kid was whacking him on the head with a small, hickory bat. Not good, you're right, but come on. He was ELEVEN. He ran from my son, crying. His parents rolled their eyes. After HDT gave up the full-on assault, he then pirated a water gun and took everyone else out.

11. Got home late last night. We all piled into bed and died until about 9:45 this morning.

Laundry, cleaning up this house, getting settled again ... happy to be home.

In memory of my daddy .... 1945-1995. A little early because we'll be gone for the occasion ...




Daddy take me with you
I promise I'll be good
Daddy, this is next time
And momma said I could
Sittin' in the front seat ridin' down town
An icecream cone I'd rap him around
My little finger
Tighter then my baby could
You can make a tear go a long long way
When you're daddy's little girl
Well he tightened my bike chain from 7 to 13
Taught me to drive when I was a wild thing
Reached and he prayed while I made some mistakes
That I wouldn't have made if I'd have done it his way
Now he hugs me when he sees me
We talk about the pastHe tries to give me money
And I try and give it back
He's a book of advice
More then I need
The look in his eyes is saying to me
Let me help you all I can
While I'm still in this world
What will you do when you're daddy's little's girl ....
(Faith Hill)

Dale has a fantastic idea.

He (and we) want to pay tribute to the 2,996 people who lost their lives on the 9/11 attacks. The fifth anniversary is coming up (can it really be so?).

The idea is simple: You sign up, and you get a name of someone who lost their lives on 9/11. You pay tribute to them on your blog. It's truly a simple thing to do.

But they need more people. They need a total of 2,996 people, to be exact. About an hour ago I received 'my name' from Dale from the list. I have spent the last hour reading about this person that was an amazing man to his family and friends.

It's simple and easy to do, really. Think about it, would you?

EDIT: I fixed the link. Worked for some, didn't work for some - who knows!!

... and a Patridge in a Pear Treeeeeeeee.

We encountered this froggy couple at the Portland Zoo on Monday. One little boy asked his mother what they were doing, and she said, "Hopscotch. They're playing hopscotch!!". Good answer.

We had a nice time in Portland - super busy. Party on Saturday night. On Sunday, family BBQ, then 1st birthday party for college friend's daughter (and HDT got to go down a water slide), then another BBQ with friends at their very cool house with a very cool backyard. So very Secret Garden.

We came home last night. I'm doing laundry today, packing, and we leave tomorrow for Grand Junction.

PS It was nice and 75, a bit overcast, while in Portland. It was 99 degrees here yesterday. WHAT THE HELL!?!? I want to live in Portland. That is all.

We're leaving for our trip to Portland! In another lifetime, I will live in the Northwest. I love the rain, love it all. I always enjoy my trips that way. Traveling with a toddler, on the other hand, could do us in early.

I wanted to mention, too, that my husband received a teaching award last night. I am always really proud of the job he does mentoring and teaching the medical students and residents, and it was really cool to see him recognized by them for all the hard work he does.

And off to the airport we go ... hope everyone has a great weekend, and we'll see you in a few!

1. Late last night, HDHusband called into hospital to help with a patient, gone until 1:30 a.m. at least.

2. Alarm goes off. That sucks in and of itself.

3. Sit down at computer, see all sorts of crazy error messages, new homepage, scary stuff going on. Fucking Trojan viruses, you deviant bastards.

4. Call friend in Oregon, try and fix the mess with his download ideas. Nothing working. More error messages. More of me panicking.

5. Call company to fix our computer issue.

6. Wait. Not very patiently. Meanwhile, trying to keep HDToddler occupied by giving him copious amounts of whatever he's asking for. Mommy is still seeing scary messages of "Someone is reading your shit RIGHT NOW!". Piss off whomever you are.

7. Computer guy shows up. I say, "How are you?". His answer, "I am tired and I am hungover".

8. While removing all 23094832098 Trojan viruses on said computer, we begin to talk about hereditary crap. I mention I am adopted. He says, "I don't get how people can take other people's kids. I mean, they aren't YOURS. I couldn't bond with someone else's kid."

9. Me, considering a scissor-kick-death-jab to his balls, but reconsiders because he is getting rid of the "We are taking all of your personal information RIGHT THIS VERY SECOND" messages.

10. I reply with, "You know, my parents tried for seven years - SEVEN - to have children on their own. They couldn't. Their desire was so strong to have a child, they didn't care whose baby it was. They wanted to have children." mumblingunderbreathyouasshole

11. Computer guy complaining that he is hungover, wants caffiene, takes the last Pepsi I have.

12. Finally, computer is fixed. Lots of dinero later. Lots and lots. I am unhappy to have all morning on this project.

13. Run to Walgreens to pick up prescription. Line inside 7 people deep, only one pharmacist. After waiting 15 minutes, I leave.

14. Go to fast food place. Break all my own rules. Kid is starving. I am starving. He eats half a nugget and plays with the toy car instead.

15. Come home, put HDT to bed. It's 2:30 in the afternoon. I still have to pack for our trip this week and get ready for black tie affair this evening.

Meh.

I was reading the local news on 9news.com about 30 minutes ago. Having some lunch, purusing the newsworthy stories, and saw one about a woman who has appeared in a smaller town north of Denver, and they are asking the public for help in finding out who she is.

I saved the story before they took took it down - which they did, about five minutes later. It just struck the funny chord with me today:


WIGGINS - Police are asking for help identifying an elderly woman they have in custody who may have suffered a stroke.


The woman was picked up recently by the Wiggins Police Department on I-76 and Highway 34. She is being held at the Morgan County Detention Center on minor misdemeanor charges.

Officials say the woman may be 62-year-old Aniotte Palmer. She is 5 feet 2 inches tall and weights 110 pounds. She looks pretty pissed.



Anyone who can help to identify the woman is asked to call the Morgan County Sheriff's Office at 970-867-2461.

Last night, I was reading our hometown paper. Seems a pillar of our little community passed away this last week.

I used to babysit for this woman's grandchildren. After my dad died, I needed a job in another city, where I was living to likely try and escape. I was introduced to her daughter, who had three boys - 9, 7, and 4.

The oldest boy really kept to himself. He traded baseball cards with the other neighborhood kids and liked to check out new comic books. An introvert. The middle kid was the trouble maker. ALWAYS trying to cook something up. He poured a can of red ants down his little brother's back and shorts, causing all sorts of bites on his little bottom. The youngest one - he owned my heart. He had blond hair, blue eyes, big freckles, and when he'd talk, his K's sounded like T's. So, of course, he asked once if he could "pet my titty". I adored him.

When the big brothers were doing their own thing, K and I would head to the pond. He was always wanting to go fishing. Trouble was - there weren't any fish and there wasn't any real place to go for some. So, we devised a simple plan of a stick and gummy worms. We sat at the end of the pond, waiting to catch our elusive fish. I loved those afternoons with the boys.

After reading that their grandma died, I thought to google their mom's name in hopes of finding a new address for them. During my google hunt, I found the middle boy's myspace page.

And photos. I found new photos of these boys, and I was completely floored. They were always handsome little boys, but they are growing up to be handsome men. A sophomore in college, a high school senior and then my little K.

I cried a bit to see him growing up, next to his big brothers (and a little sister that was a 'surprise' that summer that I moved on to a nother job). It made me quite sentimental last night, and I am now looking for the old photos of them from that summer 10 years ago.

Our daycare person reported to me this morning that HDToddler, when angry with other children, has been pointing his finger, very angry-like, and saying (what she thought to be), "No! FUCK IT!!".

I was horrified. HORRIFIED. I was feeling like a really bad mom this morning. I called HDHusband, who said, "At most, I say, "Goddammit!" when watching a basketball game, "but neither you or I say that".

True. We cuss, but we generally don't do it around him and at most, I'd bet he'd say, "Oh my GOD!" or something. But not ... FUCK IT.

So, this afternoon, while picking him up from daycare, I heard him say it ... and what did he say?

"NO THANK YOU!"

When HDHusband is bugging him, I taught him to say this. I was relieved. Still, one day, he will learn a bad word. Absolutely, but at least, not yet ...

Home from Philadelphia this afternoon.

A few highlights for you:

~ We loved the humidity! (I kid, I kid!!!) 80% humidity and 90-fucking-degrees. That shit will kill a person.

~ Meeting FreshAirLover! She's a fantastic person, and we certainly enjoyed her generous little tour on her lunch break! Thank you!!

~ Having dinner at this swanky place, sponsored by a medical company. It was swanky, folks. And how so, you ask? Well, I'll tell you! Unisex bathroom (all boys, all girls, all the time). I consider myself to be a fairly hip person, but that totally threw me for a loop. As I was walking out of said restroom, an older man ... 80, maybe? ... said, "Boys and girls? THAT'S NOT RIGHT!!" and walked on in. But this begs the question of when your tummy hurts ... you know? You go in, it hurts and your date could be in the next stall. Battleshits!! The other "say what?" moment in this place was the tray of steak knives you are presented with to choose from. Now, because I grew up on a ranch and we can have good steaks anytime, I generally opt for seafood when I'm closer to the ocean. Had I know we were going to offered one that looked like a Samurai sword and another that was 'designed specifically by Porsche', people, I would have had the steak. Incredible.

~ Also, we walked to afore mentioned restaurant ("HDW, it's only around the corner - really!"), took 400 wrong turns and I got a plethora of painful blisters on my feet. Cabbed it back to hotel. And the hotel gift shop ran out of band-aids, too. Thanks for that, really.

~ Walked around Rittenhouse Square, went into cute little chic boutique, found a great 'one of a kind' kind of shirt, but can promise you the woman who sold it to me would win THE most pushy salesperson award ever. EVER.

~ Hanging around at the Reading Terminal. Now, considering I am really still a small town girl at heart, I loved seeing the collision of cultures as this place. My favorite being the very sketchy black dude calling an older Amish woman, "Doll Baby".

~ Sitting at a Kinko's, checking email, and having another Sketchy Dude sitting in the terminal next to me, mumbling something about "the war in DC" and then a bunch of stuff about killing pigeons. Maybe a war on pigeons in DC? I will never know. But he did look at me half-way through and tell me I was fired. Got the boot from Sketchy McPigeonKillerPants. Can you say that? I didn't think so, bitches.

~ We were supposed to have dinner at this place, but due to some issues with the medical company sponsoring it (read: apparently, only MD's could go, so therefore screwing two wives out of the deal) - we instead went to Panorama. Later, the other friends (MD's) at the table toasted the wives for getting them out of said event. Funny.

~ At Panorama, I learned there was (good!!) WINE ON TAP, people. In. Heaven. Me, party of one.

~ Also at said dining establishment, there was a transgender? transvestite? not a pretty woman? at the table next to us. I was doing alright until my husband leaned over and whispered, "And Sheena was a man!!" I snorted. Come on!! Who wouldn't!?

~ Walking out of Panorama into the biggest rain storm this girl had seen in a LONG ASS TIME. We do not get rain like that here!! I was in LOVE! Of course, being in love and trying to hail a taxi - difficult. Finally piled in to a cab, stuck between HDHusband and OtherBaldDoctor, arms all outstretched like a drunk girl, listening to Hall and Oates in the cab. Strange.

~ Walked into the hotel lobby and saw a whole bunch of guys dressed up in Spiderman shirts and Extreme Wrestling attire. I asked one guy what conference they were attending ... Wizard World. A comic book convention. I decided then it was the biggest convergence of nerds: doctors and comic book collectors. I told one that my husband had a lot of comics, Daredevil and Spiderman. The one nerd said to me, "Heh! Good thing you didn't say SUPERMAN!" and the other guy cracked up. Huh. I did go up a thousand points in their heads when I told them I'd saved said comic books from a flood in our basement.

~ Spent time doing the touristy stuff with HDH on Saturday. Saw the Liberty Bell. Stood in line for 400 years to get in there, went through a bigger production in security than at the airport. Go figure it.

~ Meandered down to a bar called Rotten Ralph's and had the best overheard conversation ever. Three local guys, a bit smashed, discussing everything from how the old buildings across the street were made ("Joey, I said a mule! A mule! A mule built that thing!") to a Hindu woman passing by ("Must be nice to go outside and wear your pajamas!") to discussing a snowstorm they had at some point, and their desire to go to the bar in 30+ inches of snow ("I'm 5'5"! That snow was as tall as me and I'm half legs!! I finally said, 'Leave me here! I'll lean up against this here shrub! I told Vince to CALL MY MUTHA!'"). Classic.

~ Having dinner at a great sushi place called Haru. Truly, if you like sushi, this was a great place to go!! Plus, they had the greatest drinks. Whatever was in the Komodo Dragon was an orgasm in a glass. We had two each. My God, those were sooooooo freaking good!

~ Walked into another little bar to have a night-cap, and hopefully watch my girl Laurie's Suns win a game. We left in the third quarter, got back to the hotel, and saw a TOTALLY different outcome. Sorry, honey!

~ Standing in line at the Philly airport security line, the two security people were arguing if the girl looked like the Geico Gecko or not. Boys have a funny way of trying to get into the pants of a girl. Oh, and really - the Liberty Bell? Seriously. You couldn't get in that shit. The TSA "gecko" didn't even check my boarding pass.

~ While waiting for our airplane to board, I noticed someone familiar. Took a second, then was able to place her: Heidi from the Apprentice. Called a flight attendant a "bitch" because she was stuck in the back row of the plane near the frequented and nasty potty. Oh, and she had a bad extention job on her hair.

So ... in a nutshell ... our little trip to Philly. It's great to be home. HDToddler hasn't let me out of his sights since we were reunited earlier today. Apparently, he got to go to the People's Fair this weekend - and the only time he said "all done" regarding music was the live big band/swing. He loved the rock and roll, I guess!

Off to unpack and figure out why the TSA checked my bag and opened my container of honey. Thanks. Really. Thanks for that, guys!!