I have spent the majority of today walking.

I dropped my car off at the local mechanic shop (referred by our day care person) and walked home. Only a mile, not all that bad. The heat? That sucked, but it was far cooler than it has been.

I learned today that walking clears my head. It also makes me think about things I haven't really thought of in a while.

For instance:

I thought about how I used to walk everywhere as a kid. We lived a mile out-of-town, so I'd walk down our hill, turn a corner, and walk the flattest half mile on God's creation. Before hitting the oil road, I'd pass my cousin's house. Most times, I'd be walking to their house to play. They had great big trees (rare for where we lived, believe me). We had made 'houses' throughout the trees and would spend hours outside bossing our little siblings around. My youngest cousin was getting tired of us bossing her around in 'our house', so she took a crap in the middle of our 'living room'. We vacated the house after that.

I then thought about the old red shed that used to be next to quanset, and how we were never supposed to go over there. Hitchhikers would often try and sleep in that building, and our parents were cautious about the folks staying over. My dad would usually end up taking them a sandwich, but sending them on their way.

And then the drain that ran under the frontage road (that ran right next to my aunt's house). We were NEVER allowed to go under there - ever. But being the obedient children we were, we went anyway. I remember seeing some really rudamentary drawings of a vagina done by a classmate of mine. He had even signed his name and given it a title: "ClassmateofHDW's has a stinky pussy". We were in the 8th grade.

I remembered my many encounters with bull snakes and rattlesnakes. I remember walking another mile (in the other direction) to our mailbox, waiting for the mailman to come by, sitting on the edge of the tire holding up the mailbox with my dog, Jasper.

I thought about that simpler time that really wasn't that much simpler, I guess. My cousin was about to find out her parents were divorcing. Friends were fickle in Junior High and would switch alliances over night. I thought about what you learn then as a kid and how those lessons translate to now. Friends are still fickle. People will hurt you. Life goes on.

When I moved to Denver, I wanted to be anonymous. I had spent my birth to 18 in a town with less than 400 people. I wanted to come to the city and get lost in the shuffle. What I discovered, though, was that I'm still small town. I still manage to stumble across the small town in the big city.

Like this mechanic's shop. They didn't overcharge. They take good care of you and hope you pass them on for a referral. They leave you the little sticker in your window to remind you about the oil change and tell you to have a nice day. And mean it, too.

I walked about two miles today. And I think - after having a pretty peaceful time and all my thoughts to myself - that I should go for a few more ....

We had a BBQ at our house yesterday and invited my brother's biological mom and her family (for those just catching up, she found him in October). My brother did the cooking (made perch and trout that he had caught himself) and a lot of the drinking. I began calling him Sloshy McDrinksalot by the end of the night.

Here's are some snippets of conversation from through-out the day:

At liquor store:

"Huh, a MARTINI RIMMER. (pause) I had a damn good rim job once! Didn't give one though, you know!!"

Flipping through HBO movies, talking to my 2.5 year old son:

"Now listen to your Uncle, Boy! If it doesn't say 'Adult language' or 'Adult content' or 'Parental Guidance' at the beginning of the movie, you don't want to watch it. Listen to your uncle. THIS IS IMPORTANT!"

While filling up our little pool in the back yard:

"HDToddler, let's go crack open a cold one and CLIMB IN!"

I had given my nephew some waterless soap stuff, apple-flavored. My nephew (6) used it on his arms, legs, face and put it in his hair:

"Jesus Christ! You smell like a damn stripper now!! .......... Last time I went to a strip club, there was that pause, you know, between songs? She started talking and saying, 'So, what do you do? Do you have any kids?' ... and I said, 'Cut that shit out! I don't want to have PERSONAL CHAT! I want you to rub your bits on my bits!!'"

When HDHusband asked if I was really as 'straight-laced' in high school as I have always told him:

Him: "When I asked the kids in school, you know, about my sis and what she was like, they always say, 'HDW? She was the ride home!'. So yah, my sis was the Good DD."
Me: "What's a Bad DD, then?"
Him: "A Bad DD is a Designated Drunk. See, HDH?? She doesn't even know what the hell a Bad DD is. Of course she was straight-laced. SHE STILL IS!"

EDIT: Damn. How I could I forget THIS STORY?? On a serious note, my brother told me yesterday that my nephew came home a week or so ago, telling him the kids he plays with across the street had guns. My brother was an idiot and said, "Ah, they're probably fake". My nephew (who is 6) insisted they weren't. My brother then said, "You aren't going back to play there then". The other night, they're watching the news, and this new report comes on.

Young Boy Shot In The Head

Yup. My brother's neighbors. Same boys my nephew played with. Same guns. Scary. As. Hell.

I grabbed my nephew, hugged him, and told him to ALWAYS TELL when he sees something like that. And if no one believes him (like my idiot brother), to KEEP TELLING until someone does.

Our home.

We purchased it in 2001, closed right before our wedding. Other than a break-in six-weeks after my son was born, we've had pretty good luck at the house. It's a bit Cape Cod-ish looking, and I think it's the most distinctive on the street. I could be biased, and I don't care:


Our front porch, with front door in the distance. A great place to sit and watch the kids playing out front:



Our kitchen, kitchen nook and family room (the slide is now gone, thankfully):


The place were all the Hot Blogging Action happens. And by "hot", I mean, "not really":



My picture wall in the upstairs hallway. There are about, oh, 20 other photos you can't see. I'm somewhat of a picture whore:



And last but not least, our 550 gallon saltwater fish tank. It is 10' feet long, has a room behind that stores all of the equipment, noise makers. My husband has both fish and coral, some starfish, crabs, snails, shrimps, clams, sea anemones. He takes care of it all himself, as well:

Valerie was kind enough to send me a link that is most definitely worth your time in checking out.

SETTLE FOR BRIAN

Among my favorites (under cons):

"I have a big nose. You can't tell in all my pictures, but I think the picture below demonstrates it pretty well. You can also sort of see in this picture that I have really large ear lobes. They say that a person's ears and nose continue to grow throughout his life, so this situation is only going to get worse."

... and ...

"I got rejected my eharmony.com a few years back. I'm completely serious. I spent 2 hours filling out the questionaire, and then the site told me that there are certain people they just don't think they can find a match for."

Go on! Give this lovely award to someone. It will make you feel better. No, really. It will!

You know what's crazy?

Hearing a radio DJ on the local "lite rock" station tell her listeners someone was "all up in my grill". Someone spinning Lionel Richie tunes shouldn't say something like that.

And I would never be able to do this:

PureAssCrazyness

WHY, you might ask? Because when they took out my stupid tonsils in '95, they took off half of this bad-boy, too. Whacked off uvula. And why? Who the fuck knows.

This is the most important part of my morning. My coffee cup. I am listening now to the sweet sounds of my two-year-old son screaming and upset. I've been up since 5:15. Blogger wouldn't let me upload a photo. I hate my eye makeup remover. I'm annoyed with my neighborhood women. I'd be ready for the weekend if the weekend was different than any other day.

EDIT: I don't normally edit, but this is worth doing so. I was just carded for buying NYQUIL at Rite Aid. Now, I get that - I understand why. BUT ... when the-old-lady-with-the-blue-eye-shadow-who-takes-her-job-way too-seriously asked for my birthdate, I stumbled for a second. I wasn't prepared for this question. Before I could answer her, she said, "I NEED YOUR ID! ID! ID!!". Um, okay, you crazy woman. I'm trying. I have a 35 lb kid in one arm, and I'm trying to dig my ID out for you. I show it to her, and then she overcharges me by $20 because she's a freaking MORON. Oh, and I'd like to THANK HER for holding the receipt so I could sign it. You know, my hand's being full and all. SERIOUSLY. Holding the damn receipt helps mom's SO MUCH when their hands are full. I want Bailey's in my coffee now, thankyouveryeffinmuch ...

HDHusband and I had tickets to see Lyle Lovett perform last night at Red Rocks.

Never been to Red Rocks to see a concert?? YOU MUST! This is by far one of the most beautiful places on God's green Earth.



We hiked our asses up the 4,000 stairs, got ourselves a Hazed and Infused and found our seats.

Opening act was The Subdudes, and they rocked socks, baby. My favorite song was "Next To Me" ... just awesome.

Somewhere between their act and Lyle coming out, I stood in line at the bathroom for possibly an eternity. There were two girls taking WAY TOO LONG in there. What the fuck, man? Pee and GO. No primping. No caring. It's dark. You're outside. If we piss ourselves because you are standing in there going, "Like, ohmigod, your date is SO HOT!!!", then I would be forced to throw you over the ledge. One down, a few to go ...

Regardless, Lyle came out while I was peeing, so I missed that little bit - but whatever. He introduced his band bit by bit, did a lot of new and old song. The musicians were SO INCREDIBLE. It was by far the best live performance I have EVER seen. HDHusband said up until last night, his best live concerts were George Benson or the Police, but Lyle and his Big Band blew everyone else right out of the water.

And Francine Reed? She had just as much applause as Lyle, and appropriately so. When she sang, she blew the sky wide open. I kid you not. She did a song with the lines "I need some sugar in my bones" ... and if you know what song this is, lemme know. I cannot find it anywhere ... yet!

When I've told friends we went to see Lyle Lovett, they roll their eyes and say, "UGH!". You know, I realize he's an acquired taste. He doesn't appeal to everyone, and that's great - but if you ever get a chance, see him live. He's funny. He's witty. He's intelligent. He's a little goofy looking, but we all are to some degree, I think. You won't be disappointed.

With all of THAT said, it's important to note that sitting at Red Rocks and people watching is BY FAR the funniest thing in the world. I cannot properly describe the two couples sitting two rows in front of us.

Couple A: A guy that looked like Damone from Fast Times and his Clueless Wonder date.
Couple B: A guy who looked like he was a Carnie, and his date ... a woman with a white halter top (with a few random strings, and I mean, STRINGS) in the back - completely see through, all nip, and a pair of cut off jean shorts with her pudge hanging out the front. ACK.

I watched another woman sit next to Damone, and he immediately took out his phone and was taking some hot camera phone action. Meanwhile, Carnie was half-drunk, half-baked, half-something, and just looking over at his date, staring. Not even trying to conceal what he was doing, and it just cracked my ass UP.

At one point, Carnie got up to get a beer, and I said to HDH, "That guy is SUCH a sleazeball". A woman in front of me turned around to me, laughed, and said, "I didn't realize my inner voice could speak out loud!". Apparently, having a leftover cold means you talk a lot louder than you think you do. Oooops.

But he was really Skeevy.
Promise.

We stayed for every last song of the concert, and bolted to the parking lot, got out before the traffic got too bad. Home at midnight. Dying today, but with a few naps, we're all better.

I dropped my son off at the babysitter's, and within the ten minutes I was there, he'd been in time out's three times. Hmmm. Good day to not be around him, methinks.

... with my best girlfriend!

Checking out a wine bar and having some great conversation, laughing a lot, and all that good stuff.

Thought I'd share the shirt:



I LOVE FRENCH CONNECTION! I have great stories about wearing a similar shirt at Harry Caray's in Chicago a few years back.



Have a great Saturday night, kids!

Due to this ridiculous head and chest cold that my son (The Vector of Disease) gave to me, I've been relying (heavily) on NyQuil at night. I have taken the recommended dosage and enjoyed (almost) a full-night's sleep.

Except for the part at 3:00 a.m. when I wake up with a tickle in my throat, cough until I gag, and stumble back into bed to find my husband hasn't even moved an inch.

(Note to self: Cough in bed. Much more comfortable there, and HDHusband has no clue you are in agony anyway.)

I've learned that NyQuil gives me some funky dreams.

In one dream, I dreamt my father (that in real life died in 1995) - had just ... up and run away. I had gone back to our farm and my mom was frantic, saying he'd not come home from work. We called the police and they found him, talked to him, and he said he just didn't want to be found. I was so angry in my dream. It felt so real. I was ready to kick some ass and take names later, when I woke up.

I told a friend about this dream and he said, "That's implausible. You know if your dad ever left, he'd have to take you with him". That made me tear up. I know my dad is gone, I saw his body, but apparently, ol' HDW has some issues still, almost twelve years later!!

The next night, I had a dream that my husband was cheating on me. Now, this I know is NOT true. But, being the good wife I am, I took the end of my stiletto heel and jammed it into her forehead. It didn't bleed. She didn't look that put out, and my husband only said, "HDW. Now why did you go and do something like that?"

NO MORE. Must give up the NyQuil. I'm waking up angry and confused, people. The cough is subsiding, so tonight, I may try to sleep sans the DreamMakingMedicine. Sweet God, it's awful.

On an urelated note:

My neighbor, TheBirdKiller, has asked me to water her hanging baskets while they are gone. Happy to. Except, she is really fucking clueless about them.

She had three hanging baskets ordered from the landscaping company. They were beautiful. Over time, hers started crumping. While standing outside with her and another male neighbor, we were discussing said crumping and GuyNeighbor says, "You know, you aren't watering them enough. You need to really stick the hose in ... " and started to do it for her. She rips the hose out of his hand and tells him he is overwatering her hanging baskets.

A week later, they are completely dead and she's getting all new ones from the landscaping company. Now, our hanging baskets have geraniums in them. She informed me ours were 'nice', but she didn't like 'those geraniums - they are so pedestrian'. Fine. But my baskets are doing well, and yours are sucking SHIT.

While talking to her yesterday and getting my instructions from her for taking care of them, she tells me they just need 'a spritz'. If you want dead ass hanging baskets that cost a lot of money a piece, then I'll spritz them. But if you want to have real live flowers upon your return from Richville, then just SHUT YOUR YAPPER! and let me do it for you.

But what do I know, right? My flowers are so ... pedestrian.

NyQuil makes me cranky.

Chatty B Tawkin mentioned the Blog Tour of Homes in a recent post, and I thought it would be something fun and different to try. If you are interested in doing the same, then you should head over to BooMama and find out the guidelines, (like, don't post a photo of your house complete with number and address, etc).

And ... if you do decide this is something you'll be doing, leave a comment for me so I can check out your casa, too.

The date for this will be July 28th!

My two-year-old-and-change little boy.

He is into "SUPER!" right now. He saw the movie on TV the other day and would cry with Christopher Reeves wasn't on screen. He sleeps in either Superman or Spiderman pj's these days.

My little super hero.

And in unrelated news: Stitches are out of my back, but the thing still itches like a muthafucka! I'm also still hacking and coughing, and I'm currently looking for my lung. It's around here somewhere, I'm sure ...

Chest cough. Sore throat. Head cold. Sinus pressure. Headache. It's all here, and it's all staying way to freaking long. My son (or the Vector of Disease) brought this shit home from daycare and it's not leaving. I want to rip my head off! Miserable.

We did go to the Zoo yesterday to see the new baby giraffe (or 'jaff, according to my son). It was a balmy 103, so that went over really well. We bought a pool from Target and after a second trip back to Target for the air compressor, we got that bad boy blown up. My son got in and peed in it; therefore, ruining any chance of us getting in when he went to bed later. The pool has cup holders though, so this is a big bonus.

I have nothing else to report. I'm going to go back to bed, take more Sudafed and die now. Miss me. All eight of you.

I love music. LOVE IT. When I was growing up, though, my mom was the heavy and wouldn't let me listen to anything that was popular (read: good) at the time. Madonna was forbidden, but I could have Debbie Gibson. My friend PreachersKid had Poison, Saigon Kick, Tesla - all the great metal bands. My mom relented and let me have NELSON. PreachersKid would often time make me mixed tapes of all the better music, and he'd sneak it to me after church. And in turn, I'd sneak up to the balcony of the church, turn the clock ahead 15 minutes so we'd get out early.

When we'd take a trip to the 'big city' (ie: Denver or Colorado Springs), we'd bed and plead for her to turn on one of the good stations. We never won. We'd end up listening to the oldies station or sports radio. Eventually, when we got walkman's, we'd tune in and try and catch some sort of glimpse into the real cool music. (We didn't have MTV at our house, so we were REALLY in the dark)

On one occasion when my mom relented and turned on Magic FM out of the 'Springs, she was driving our suburban full of girls to some school event. Who knows what it was - Future Homemakers of America, more than likely (yah, that worked out well for me, right).

The song on the radio was "Push It" by Salt-n-Pepa. All of the girls in said suburban went crazy, bouncing around and singing along.

My mom?

She turns off the radio, and says, "Girls! Do you know what this song is about? It is about a man pushing his penis into a woman's vagina!!"

MOOD. KILL.

My friends were silenced.

I was horrified.

If I could have thrown myself out of the moving vehicle, I think I would have.

Jeeez. A girl just can't get a break.

Tonight, we had dinner plans with two other couples. One of the couples being a person big in my husband's work community and who supports his salary. We had been trying to plan this dinner for months.

The Other Couple calls and cancels at the last minute.

So ... after some finagling and rearranging and deciding the four of us could go without the other two ... we decide to go ahead with our lovely dining plans for this evening. Reservations at 7:00 pm.

At ten 'til 6:00 pm, I walk into my closet and realize none - NONE - of my summery clothes are there. My husband was supposed to pick them up from the cleaners ... but, apparently not. I call the cleaners. Yes, they have this batch of clothes.

I haul ass, with HDToddler at my side, to said cleaners. The owner sees my panic, helps me load up my car, and off we go to the house to finish getting ready. (and in this process, I have managed to fuck up my eye makeup and hated it entirely all night, but whatever - small details).

New babysitter is coming over at 6:30. She calls at 6:28 and is running late due to Evans being CLOSED OFF. I hate you Colorado road construction!! Jeebus, you people!! Once she arrives and I show her everything she needs to know, I leave a crying HDToddler with her and break for the door ...

.... wearing, mind you, a hot ass outfit. Nice linen slacks and cute linen top, both at the cleaners until 6:00 pm this evening. I rock.

Dinner. WONDERFUL. Good conversation. Great wine. Everything falling into place. We have a lovely dinner, and I am stuffed.

With ten minutes left in our dinner experience, I head to the bathroom. I don't think I can't not pee in the next 20 minutes, so I decide to go now.

GOOD FUCKING THING I DID, PEOPLE.

Blood. Everywhere. How the hell?? I'm on birth control. Not due to change until Sunday. So, a week early. Niiiice. Much appreciated, you dirty bitch. (nice LINEN pants, remember??) I waddle my ass BACK to the table and pray to GOD none of the wait staff see what the hell has become the Red Sea between my damn legs.

Quietly, I return to the table and politely end the dinner, and head to the car.

Oh, and in this very nice place, in a very nice establishment, NO THINGS FOR GIRLS in the bathroom. Oooh, so not very cool. At the car wash I go to, they have those out as a courtesy. AT A CAR WASH, and not a five star joint.

But whatever.

I'm home.

I'm tired.

I'm not laughing .... yet ... but hell, Laurie laughed with me.

So, that's something, right?

ShondaRaiBee found this old quiz in a magazine. It's a fun little quiz. Do it, don't do it, but you'll definitely ponder on some of these questions!

1. If I had an extra hour of free time a day, how would I spend it?
I would sleep. Forget sex. Forget shopping. Give me sleeeeeeeeep.

2. Are my personal priorities in order?
You bet.

3. What is my goal for 1997 (HA HA HA)?
I love these old magazine quizzes!! In 1997, my goal was to break-up with Crying Tom and get away from him as fast as possible. My goal this year would be to clean out the storage room. WOO. I live life on the edge. Stand back!

4. Have I given up on any dreams or goals that I wish I hadn't?
Oh ... ouch. Yes. It's never too late - sure easy to say. Life unfolds as it should, I guess (the dirty bitch!).

5. Am I as healthy as I want to be?
No. My son gave me his cold, so we're all miserable today. The Little Vector of Disease, he is.

6. Who are my heroes, and why?
Way-ull ... I'd pick my dad. He was a good, fair, hardworking, decent and honest human being. I never heard him say a bad word about anyone.

7. Is there room for more love in my life? What steps am I taking toward that end?
There's always room for more love. SELF-LOVE. ha ha ha

8. Am I having enough fun?
YES!

9. Do I spend too much time worrying about things I can't control?
At times, yes.

10. Can I stand on my own two feet or do I need someone to take care of me?
I haven't needed help in a long time. I manage pretty well on my own. That's more than likely because I've learned I can't depend on really anyone I've trusted. I've learned to make it alone. I welcome help when it works out, but of course ...

11. What's the best part of me that no one else sees?
My boobs. No, wait ... ask me that again??

12. What's my outlook? Do I embrace new experiences?
I love new experiences. My outlook is stinking opti-freaking-mistic!

13. Can I see things from a different perspective?
I always try to approach life this way. I'm always interested in how someone else views the same issue.

14. Are there any apologies I need to make?
I apologize to my brother for putting hydrogen peroxide in his hair before his 7th grade school pictures. Little shit. I apologize to Crying Tom for not telling him he cried too much to save him for crying too much to his next victim. Boo hoo, Cryer.

15. Do I feel valued as a parent? A spouse? An employee? A friend?
I believe so!

16. Do I put too much pressure on myself?
No.

17. Am I happy with my relationship with God?
I am.

18. How do I feel in my own home?
I do feel happy in my home - and I'd feel even better if the storage room was cleaned the fuck out.

19. Do I hold too much anger in my heart?
I'm working on this.

20. Have I ever been held by fear of failure?
Hi, my name is HDW, and I have been held by fear of failure.

21. If I could start my life again knowing what I know now, what would I do differently?
I would have had more fun in high school, studied harder in college, and listened better to the people in my life who were trying to really help me. I would also have taken a year off after high school and traveled.

22. Do I make the most of every day?
Not always, but we're working on that.

23. Could I push myself harder at work or at home? Could I stand to ease up a little?
I don't know how I could ease up taking care of a 28-month-old who is a tornado of activity. Or cleaning up after a toddler and a husband. Yah. Ease up. Surrrrrrrrre.

24. Am I good about granting myself life's little rewards?
Hells yah!!

25. What 25 things do I want to accomplish before I die?
Grief. I don't think I could come up with 25, but I know I'd start with going to Europe. I hate that I haven't been there!

And by the 'Hood, I mean, not really.

Here are a few interesting comments I've heard in the last two hours, on my street:

While at FemiNazi's house:

FNSon (5 yrs): MOM. HDToddler is wearing on my last nerve!!
FNMom: Maybe you should give him something else to do.
FNSon: But Mom! I don't have ANY NERVES LEFT!!

While leaving FemiNazi's house:

(conversation about something unimportant)
FNMom: HDW, it's so good to know you are finally sticking up for yourself with HDHusband.
HDW: Huh? No. I always stick up for myself. My husband will be the first person to tell you this. I always do, I just don't announce every time I do. See you another time!!

While playing with another little girl next door:

LittleGirl (who is three): Mommy, I'm all done playing with HDToddler. I'm done with him now!! Make him go home! (we were in our own front yard)

My exciting day ...

1. Bought a new mattress for our guest bedroom bed. I slept on that thing last year (HDH had to get up early and I didn't want to get up at 5:00 with him), and OH BOY did that mattress suck. Just like sleeping on a Board of Death. Plus, it was purchased circa CrazyExGirlfriend and you know, I don't need to share the same 8-year-old mattress that she got nekkid on. Ack.

2. Stopped by the mall to pick up my blush. The sales lady talked me into trying some new eyeshadow. She had to start over once. After I left, I looked just like a $3 Thai hooker. I took that shit off in the parking lot faster than a dress on prom night.

3. Came home, ate lunch, checked the mail. Stuck in one piece of junk mail (of many) was a letter from my sweet grandmother. I have learned now to check every bit of our mail. Our mailman sucks, and often times you toss very important things because he shoves it in a magazine you'll never look at.

4. Am currently pissed because there isn't a soul around to scratch my back. I have stitches and the fucking ITCH!! I itch even more thinking about them. Dammit.

5. But on a positive note, the Icky Diapers at our house have gone away. HDToddler is in a much better frame of mind, and life is returning to normal. Whatever normal is.

I got the results on the moles taken off my back last week: pre-cancerous.

Not quite the bad stuff, but definitely not the good stuff. The margins were good, so I'm happy to know that the shit was contained. I read the path report. And by 'read', I mean, "Pathologist, say what??".

CRAZY.

On a lighter note: My son has diarrhea. Not necessarily lighter, but you know, hey. It's the life of a mom, right? Riiiiiiiiiight ...

No, really.

I decided to make lasagna last night. I don't cook, people, and when the mood strikes, it's a big, huge damn deal. HUGE. I ran to our local Albertson's and got all the ingredients needed. Ran home. Picked up my son from the sitter's, and back to the house to start making dinner.

I'm half-way through, about to add the ricotta, and LO AND BEHOLD! I pull back the lid, pull off the plastic cover and the shit is BLUE and MOLDY.

People, I lost my shit. I know better! I know I have to look at the dates on the bottom of this shit. The date was "best used with fireworks". My point, though, is that I SHOULD NOT HAVE TO LOOK. This is my point. I shouldn't have to worry, to wonder. Always ... ALWAYS! ... at this store you have to look at the born-on dates. You have to pay attention or you will come home to make some mouth watering lasagna and get blue moldy ricotta.

And in a giant fit of pissedoffness, we tossed the cheese, as well as the receipt. I could have driven back and gotten my $3.67 back. I do not care. I'm not going back. And plus, the used pregnancy test is still by the curb outside the building, all these days later. Yuck.

Editor's Note: Dark Damian hates cheese. And after this post, he will have no problem continuing to swear off cheese forever and a day, and maybe ever a week after that.

Months ago, I signed up for Myspace - simply because Dark Damian said I should ... peer pressure, and all. And despite all the "That's only for teenagers". Blah blah. I'm not on there to pimp my hot ass, so no worries. Instead, I managed to find a few high school classmates and a girl I taught piano lessons to, who is now married. Feeling old, party of one.

Regardless, I had this email two nights ago that said, "CollegeFriend wants to be your friend on MySpace".

WOW. Holy crap. Could it be? I hadn't thought of her in over ten years!

My second semester of my first year of college, my dad died. Quite suddenly. Jolted from this fun, let's go party at the lake life to, well, the real world. One friend on my floor said she remembered waking up at 7:00 a.m. to me screaming and then hearing a giant thud on the floor of my RA's office. Passing out will do that to you.

I left college and eventually, lost touch with a lot of these people. Lost a lot of photos in moves and in turn, a lot of the memories.

Now, I had this name and face and the memories started to come back in full force. I could see so much in my mind's eye, remember more of the campus, the smell of the dorm, and the girls on my floor.

Tonight, she sent me an email and it said, "Remember that night that I went crazy on all of the "boyworld" girls in my drunken stupor? GuyFriend had to drag me down the hall while calling them all bitches. Horrible, horrible night. That was the same night you, me and C went all over town taking crazy pictures and rearranging the letters on the CollegeTown sign. I have tons of pictures to prove it!! "

Yes, I remember the Boyworld bit. God, they were obnoxious. I'm not sure what the hell they were about, but they were peppy, happy, chipper and downright way too positive on life. I think someone put "I Heart Boyworld!" on their door sign to signal their new 'crush'.

But the rearranging sign bit?? WHAT?? I did that?? Yup. Probably so. I can vaguely remember making trouble in a little liberal arts college in a dry county. Sounds right up my alley. I have asked her if and when she finds time, to send me some copies of those photos.

I am so happy to be reconnected to her. I felt I was there for such a short time, such a blip on the radar screen, I wasn't sure anyone really remembered me anymore. It was like a really sad movie. The last scene, me driving off in the back seat of my aunt's car, saying a helluva goodbye to my college and what was, in turn, my youth. And to have a chance to revisit that - well, it just means a lot to me.

My girlfriend has a blog.

My girlfriend is 16-weeks-pregnant.

My girlfriend has a photo of herself, pregnant, on her blog.

My husband walks up behind and says, "Ah PetNameForHDW, it's your belly!"

Um, NOT MY BELLY YOU ASS!

I showed him mine, he starts laughing, and says, "Yah, I can see the difference now".

All the while he's writing something out. I looked at him and asked if that was his last Will and Testament. He said, "Yes, as these words will definitely be the last thing that I ever say before I leave this world".

That is the only accurate thing he has said today.

I had those ridiculous moles removed from my back yesterday. I hurt, I itch, I cannot scratch; therefore, it sucks.

While sitting on the edge of the bed last night, my son (2 yrs) looked over and saw all the bandages on my back. He said, "Mommy?? Boo-boo??" - to which I replied that yes, I had some boo-boo's. He put his little head on my shoulder and said, "It's 'kay, Mommy."

Melted my heart!

We also went to see Beau Soleil avec Michael Doucet and Buckwheat Zydeco last night at the Denver Botanic Gardens. Because I felt like total shit, I failed to bring my camera. Had I remembered, I could have documented the stinkiest, strangest looking pirate guy ever. Complete with crazy get-up and everything. The music was awesome! Everyone was up and dancing. It was a fun time -- with some proceeds going to the rebuilding of the New Orleans Botanic Gardens. For a great cause, too!!

And in completely unrelated news: I went to the grocery store this afternoon, and while walking back to my car, I stepped on someone's used pregnancy test. YUCK. Just throw your pee-stick away!! Good thing it was negative, as you are obviously a freaking idiot and shouldn't be making babies anyway.

Say it with me: LEGS. CLOSED.

If anyone is interested (and you very much should be!) in seeing a cool video of the Discovery launch done by someone who works with NASA, please head over to Jen's blog and check it out. Her husband shot the film. She has some other great photos of the launch, as well.

It is WAY cool!

Go! Go now, I say!

I have taken over the duties for posting on Fyrchk's blog.

We have had some outrageously funny guest posters for her, with some on the way, so if you're interested in a few good laughs, I suggest you head over there and check it all out.

When I think of the Fourth of July, I think of riding around in the combine with my dad, watching our custom cutters roll into town, and seeing the fireworks off in the distance. We'd have big dinners by the combines. We'd chew wheat gum and crumble wheat in between our fingers, checking the grain. We'd watch the storms roll in and pray they didn't rain on us ... just this one time. And if they did, we were sure it would be a better day tomorrow.

So, Happy Fourth to all of you - however you spend it, whatever traditions are yours. Be safe!!