Now THAT Was a Week!

It was a long week for everyone...the guard, the parents and the coaches. Thank goodness it all ended on a happy note.

A giant slip and slide and a pizza party.

The week had it's rough spots.

But it had it's good spots too. There are many sunburned and exhausted teens asleep in their beds now dreaming " 5.. 6.. 7.. 8."

I saw a lot of smiles and wiped away quite a few tears.

When you add 30 teens together for 12 hours a day for five days in 100 degree heat index it all equals to quite a bit of drama but the end sum is a total feeling of accomplishment and a job well done.

Spinning and tossing on the hot asphalt for hours at a time is no easy feat...even for a teen.

Some of the guard moms and dads are there the entire time the kids are. Filling coolers lugging ice chests, treating blisters, sunburns, injured body parts and bruised egos. Nobody said it was easy to have teenagers and all of us are well aware of this fact...and maybe a little more so after this week.



It was brutal heat all week...which in comparison made their brutal coach seem like a "Teddy Bear." And trust me...that means it was REALLY hot.

I was there as much as I could be and it exhausted me. I cannot imagine how the women that were there the entire time feel, but know that I for one truly appreciate what they do for all of the guard...my girl included and once again feel honored to be a part of this "Hot Mess."

I left today around 2:45 to go pay some bills and get ready for work. I swung back by the school on my way to work to drop off some things for Massey and she looked wiped out. The minute I asked her if she was okay the tears welled up in her eyes, rolling down her sun burnt cheeks and it tore me up to have to leave her and go to work. I hugged her sweaty body close to mine and told her I loved her and was proud of her for being strong.

When I got to work it beat the crap out of me...but it was a nice whooping.
I waited on five tables and walked with over $140.00. That's the kind of whooping I like (and need.)

When I went into the restroom to pee, it was like pulling up a wet swimsuit just to get my drawers back up. I know I'm fifty and suffer from hot flashes but when your underwear are soaked and it's not from wetting your pants...you know it's hot. The kitchen was at LEAST 91 degrees and I don't know how the cooks stood it in their longs pants and chef coats. It was almost like "Guard camp part two."

I didn't get off until almost midnight and was on the way to the grocery store when I noticed a message on my cell.

One of the guard mom's had sent me a text saying that Massey had gotten "Spinner of the day." She spins a flag and every day the most accomplished guard gets recognized...for flag work or whatever part they participate in.

Massey DEFINITELY needed this pat on the back and it meant a heck of a lot to me.

It's a weird world I have ended up in, this whole guard thing... but to see a group of kids make it through this past week renews my faith in the youth of today and makes me awfully glad she is my youngest.

Three more years to go and someone can put me in a home..I hope it's a nice one and they will have bird feeders outside of my window...and WI FI so I can still blog from my cranked up bed.

Do you think my kids will come visit me?

If they don't, they'll be cut out of my will and I'll just leave my LP collection and past due bills to Mr. "Slow"Lee next door. That'd be a zinger !!

Next week is band camp...guard AND the band. 8:30 AM til 11:00 PM...really looking forward to THAT.

You know what is even crazier? I kinda AM looking forward to it.

Call me crazy, you won't be the first person to.

Til next time... COTTON



Click on pics for a better view...

It's Gonna Be a GREAT Day!!

Worked a double shift today and squeezed in a trip to visit Massey at the high school before her dinner break.

It still and always amazes me that my girl LOVES me. There are so many 15 year old girls (she'll be 15 in a few short weeks) that are horrified when their mother is around.

I am one blessed woman.

My daughter LOVES it when I am around her when she is at the school and I love it that she "Loves" me to be there.

What greater blessing can a mom have than having teens that aren't mortified by their appearance when they are with their peers?

I came home from work tonight to find my 18 year old son in the garage with two other hooligans I have never met. He introduced me to them both and I said "Hi."

Zach said "You need to shake their hand and say hello, Mother."

I told Zach I was in a hurry to give his dad gas money so he could go to work but I did pause to look at the boys and say "Hello, Mother."

I got stuck at work because we were busy and another guard mom brought Massey home for me. God bless the guard moms...they are like moms to me, except they are all about 20 years younger than me and sometimes see more of my daughter than I do.

It's a great feeling when you know your kid is watched out for and always taken care of when you can't be there. Massey loves them too...it's a mutual "Lovefest" that I couldn't live without at this point in my life.

My life has been a test the last year...but my siblings, my old friends and my new friends have been the saving salvation in an otherwise excruciating time in my almost half a century on this planet.

"Make new friends but keep the old..."

What a pleasure to know that you have friends...what a relief and what a blessing they all are.

I was talking to my sister tonight telling her about guard camp and how hot it was for the kids. I told her I soaked Massey's bandanna in ice water yesterday to keep her cool and she mentioned that a good friend of hers (once again proving the friend theory) had given her a bandanna that had beads in it...you soak it in water and put it in the freezer and "BAM" you have an ice pack for your forehead. I mentioned to her that I needed to get Massey a "Mr. Magoo" hat...you know, one with a floppy brim. Massey had borrowed one yesterday from one of the wonderful parents that seem to love my daughter like I do.

My sister told me she still had my father's Mr. Magoo hat that he wore when he played tennis or went to the beach with us. That's where the above picture comes in.

My Diddy (that's what we call him) has been gone from this world since 2002.

As the one year anniversary of the twin towers being brought down by terrorists came around I was watching him die from West Nile virus in a hospital with my brother and sister.

We laughed and we cried and we grew closer than we have ever been. What is strange about losing a parent is the fact that it somehow brings you all together. It bonds you in a way that you can never forget and makes you realize...a little late (for your own conscience) that you have been blessed with having been raised by exceptional parents and so many people aren't as fortunate.

I am getting up early to meet my sister before guard camp.

Massey will be wearing her "Grandpa's" hat..she will have a bandanna that holds ice and she will have a Mom there all day to look out for her, encourage her and give her sweaty butt a hug when she needs it.

You know what? It is a great thing to be a parent when your kids still love you in their teens and don't mind showing it.

One of my dear "New" friends wrote me tonight and said "Massey was glowing yesterday that her momma was there."

How can you beat THAT feeling?

Kids..they can kill you but they can make you unbelievably proud at the same time. How in the heck do they do that? You know, I don't really care as long as the proud part wins over the "Kill" part.

Grandpa's hat for luck and my sister's headband for cooling comfort. Me at the school all day and my girl happy that I am there...It is gonna be a GREAT day!

Summer In The Sun

What a stinking long day...and I mean literally "Stinking." Today was my day off and I spent it on and off at the school with Massey.

The picture to the left is of their coach perched in the tower drilling the troops.

I didn't get there til after noon and the asphalt was already smoking hot and the guard had already been hard at work since 9AM.
I stayed for a while and went home to let the dogs out and go vote for the person I thought would lie to us the least ...boy, talk about a hard decision!

I'll have to hand it to these kids, it was hot...no breeze no shade just the sun pounding down on them and their coach pounding from up above as well.


They broke for dinner at five and it seemed to be getting hotter by every minute.

They eat inside the school (with no air conditioning) sitting in the hallway outside the band room.

If you've never sat in an un air conditioned hallway with 30 kids who have been out in the heat for 8 hours all eating different smelling foods and all having sweaty bodies and even worse smelling feet, I'm here to tell you it is an aromatic delight(NOT.)

Somehow they keep their spirits up. They laugh and joke and are an eclectic bunch that all have a common goal..."To be the best."

I hate that I have had to miss so much of it due to our circumstances but enjoyed being back a part of them today.

I think it meant the world to Massey for me to be there today. I thought it was hot working in the yard (I did sneak home for an hour and cut the back yard ) but just watching them drill, twirl and spin out on the hot pavement of the parking lot was excruciating for me. I felt like I was melting just sitting on the sidelines. I am more a "Doer" than a "Watcher" and I could see the toll the heat was taking on many of the kids...who were all "Doing" while I just "Watched."

After my long day (which I am SURE was MUCH longer to the kids) I have a whole new respect for what these kids are doing. They are pushed hard by a coach that was hired to make them the best guard...not to be their best friend. He is brutal at times and on occasion is ridiculous...PERFECT for dealing with teens in my book.

Life around my house is slowly (very slowly) getting back to normal...well as normal as it gets for us.

I wish I had more time to commit but as we forge ahead on the path to recovery I am finding little snippets of time to spend with the guard and my off days to re connect with this wonderful program my daughter has chosen to be a part of. I sometimes feel awkward because I can't be at every practice and every event but the parents that ARE at every function seem to genuinely care for Massey in my absence and have all taken wonderful care of her when I couldn't be there.

What a great thing it is to have a young teen want to be part of such a hard but rewarding organization. She could be sitting on her duff texting all day or on the computer but she chooses to "get out there" and be a part of something bigger and more challenging than she has ever done in her almost 15 years on this Earth.

It's called motivation. It's called commitment. It's called teamwork. It's called a lesson in life.

I couldn't be prouder of these kids and I admire every one of them for their dedication and desire to be the best they can be.

No wonder they win so many competitions. To win you have to compete. To be a competitor you have to have dedication and determination .

To me these are the greatest life skills these kids will ever learn and seeing them do it at such a young age gives me hope for our future.

The teens we are raising are our future, pure and simple.

Below is a short video of them learning the first movement of their new show. Only two days into camp and I think they look pretty good .

Have a day off tomorrow because I work a double shift at work but I will be back on the asphalt on Thursday. Being around these kids is an incredible feeling .

Til next time...COTTON

Be sure to click on the pics and video...

Long Day, Hot Day...Good Day

Massey started guard camp today...12 gruelling hours.
It starts at nine in the morning and ends at nine at night. They start with a mile run and move on to drill on the asphalt parking lot of the school and practice in the gym that has NO air conditioning...I would almost rather be outside where you could catch a possible breeze.

I took a case of water to the school and came home after going to the bank...going back to the John Deere store to find out the idiot who I thought had given me the wrong blade was right ...guess I'M the doofus. MY BAD, but I actually got the blade on all by myself.

Once I had it on I didn't have a socket wrench so my sweet next door husband did it for me. Actually I called him first just to ask to borrow a socket wrench and he said to bring the bolt over and he would give me the right size socket.

I did that, and gently led him out of his garage carrying his socket wrench in my hand chatting him up the entire time and eventually ended my intense conversation with him as we walked into my garage where Johnny sat propped up on one side waiting for my next door husband to "Do his thing."

God bless him ...he never even mentioned he had been duped but laid on his back and tightened my new blade onto Johnny (after treating the thread to the bolt with some kind of magic goop.)

The instructions I had read mentioned something about that "goop" but I felt like it was more a suggestion than an instruction and had already decided I would skip that step.

God bless a "next door husband."

Luckily (for him) it didn't take three minutes to put the blade on and at least I knew it was on RIGHT.

After he left (and probably blocked my cell # from his) I cranked ole Johnny up and heard the horrific sound of my brand new blade hitting the decking...shooting sparks out. I quickly turned it off and went inside disheartened.

I went back into my garage ten minutes later and tried one more time..."DING DING DING DING." It was excruciating to hear and after turning the mower off again I went into the kitchen where MY husband sat paying bills.

He said "Did you think it was going to magically fix itself?"

HURUMPHH!!!

I went to plan #2. Called my brother in law and asked if he would do a drive by on his way home from the airport and fix the "Dinging."

God bless him too (I may be on three '"God bless" by this point) he came by after I had already left for work and worked (or banged) out all the kinks. Seems I bent the decking when I was plowing through Mr. "Slow"Lee's yard .

Johnny's fixed and I couldn't be happier.

Working at the "SWEAT FEST" tomorrow at the school during guard practice. Then coming home to jump on Johnny like stink on poop.

Gotta get me one of those Coal Miner's hats and I can cut grass at night too.

It sounds crazy (unless you're me) but having my JD running great is one of the things that makes me the happiest.

"GO Johnny GO."

"TILL" no more or should I say "Till -No" mower next time...COTTON

Is This a Normal Person's Life?

It's no wonder I have a blog.

More can happen to me in a 24 hour period than happens to most people in a year. I'm not saying it's all bad...it just ALL seems to happen to me, my kids or dogs or to something I own.

I went to the John Deere place today to buy a new blade. The same guy that gave me the wrong air filter 3 times was at the desk so I should have known better than to think the blade I carried back out to my car was the right one. He DID have the right air filter so I gave him the benefit of the doubt and took the blade with me.

Let me start with saying before I EVER went to the JD store I wrote down my model number, the VIN number and measured my old blade that was still crumpled and attached to my mower. He never even looked at the piece of paper (I guess because he's such a Pro at his job.)


When he handed me the box my first words were "This is too long." He said with confidence "The box is longer than the actual blade." Having made 3 trips just to get an air filter I opened the box and the blade fit snug against the ends of the box.

I felt like saying "Strike Four ya big doofus." I tried to make myself think that maybe with all my "NASCARing" on Johnny I had worn the blade down two inches. I KNEW better, I wanted to protest but he was so apologetic about the air filter that I talked myself into believing him.

I got home and the stinking blade was two inches wider than the stinking deck on the mower. Shall I say "DOOFUS" one more time?

I took the blade back and discovered he had closed up shop five minutes early and I was left with a blade two inches too long. AARRGGG!!!

Not to worry! I rode across the street to Tractor Supply and tried to find the right blade. No luck...seems most JD parts are only at JD stores and I was outta luck once again.

Just for the heck of it I tried Home Depot. They only had JD blades bigger than the one Doofus had sold me.

By then it was time to get ready for work and I had to give up the fight (and search.)

At least my brother in law came over and took the crumpled blade off for me while I was at work and probably laughed at my back yard for good measure before he left.

Moving on to work.

Busy as a bee hive...I felt like I was TRULY in a cartoon . I was Wylie Coyote and all my tables were dressed as Road Runners. It was the longest two hours of my life and sweat was pouring down my back as I tried to keep the panic from showing on my face. It got hairy for a few minutes but my good friend Olive Oyl helped me and somehow I made it.

Last night was great as well...things ran smoother for me and I made a few good regulars. I had a party of six, 3 couples. They were all drinking and we enjoyed a nice humorous banter. When I was packing up their left overs (you always have left overs at Mama Lucia's...the portions are huge) one of the husbands said "You really know your stuff."

I replied my standard "I didn't go to college for nothing...got my PHD in BS and put it right to work." He said I would make a great salesman and I told him I considered myself in Sales and Marketing anyway. He asked if I was a good liar and I winked at him and said "One of the best, you good looking thing." His wife almost fell out of the booth laughing and once again I knew I had found the right job working for the right people waiting on tables in an environment that perfectly suited me and my personality. I quickly apologized to the man and his wife said "Don't you dare...that was the funniest thing I have heard in a while."

Bingo!

I told them you have to know who to kid around with and who NOT to kid around with and they all agreed they were a table that thoroughly enjoyed it.

I feel like I got my MOJO back. Now I just need my JD back!

If something kooky or bizarre didn't happen to me within a 24 hour period...I would check my pulse and wonder if I was still alive.

At least I ALWAYS have something to write about.

BTW...every one at work is all abuzz about the cartoon blog and we have decided that there may have to be a part III.

I got a text late last night from "Olive Oyl". It read, OMG...I am cracking up reading ur cartoon blogs. I love a good laugh!! :)

Have I found the right new home or WHAT?

You just wait til the JD store opens on Monday and I rip Doofus a new one...he is giving my "baby's" parents company a bad name and besides that Johnny looks all naked without his blade.

Look for more cartoons, more JD updates and more Cotton catastrophe updates.

"TILL" next time (get it?) Cotton

Got the Back Yard All Tilled ...Now What?

Yesterday was my day off so like the idiot I am waited until 2:00 when the heat was ALMOST unbearable and set out on my trusty boyfriend "Johnny Dear.'

He's the silent type (my favorite quality in a work horse) and didn't even hesitate before turning over his "High Torque 9HP electric start...balanced... overhead valve, cast iron cylinder engine." He sounds 'BUFF' doesn't he?

I started at the front entrance of the subdivision and planned on finishing up in my own yard after cutting my neighbor Mr. "Slow"Lee's yard.

The front was a rough cut. I tend to get braver and braver every time I cut up there. One side is a steep grade and I have figured out that if I start out going straight up the hill I can swing back down and get almost to the top of the hill. This saves me a LOT of weed eating so I tend to try and cut as much as I can on the mower.

Problem is, I am a risk taker.

A couple of times the mower got stuck and almost felt like it was flipping. I would recover and say to myself "Don't try THAT again."

Ten minutes later I would work up the courage to try "One more swath around the hill" and would get that panicky feeling again. I finally decided I would just throw a few bucks Zach's way and let him do the weed eating for me.

I putted back down the street to my house and filled the weed eater with gas and filled the spool. Zach came dragging out of the house like he was headed for the electric chair, picked up the weed eater without saying a word and started walking (as slow as I have ever seen someone walk) to the front of the subdivision . I said to myself "Look at my boy walking the Green Mile."

I decided to cut my own front yard first and had made maybe 3 laps around the yard before Zach made it past my next door husband's house. I thought "At least he's going"...but he better be glad Johnny doesn't have a horn on him or I would have honked it and made the "Hurry up!" sign to Zach.

I figured it would take Zach about thirty minutes to finish weed eating since I had been such a thrill seeker on my mower and had most of the hill cut.

Ten minutes later I see Zach dragging back down the street at the flying speed of 1/16 MPH.

I thought maybe the weed eater had flooded out or maybe he just decided he didn't really need the money.

I cut my engine off and asked him what was wrong? In his usual monotone, totally bored voice he said "Nothing needed cutting."

I told him both gulley's on either side needed trimming and around the sign posts, not to mention where my dare devil hill swathing had missed.

He said "It all looks fine to me...you're just a freak about cutting grass."

That was the end of my partner helping me. I guess he just wanted to be paid for the mileage he walked up and back from the front of the subdivision...figuring in the added stress of having to carry a weed eater both ways.

Teen agers...Not a lot of help but sometimes brutally honest (and I am NOT a freak ...maybe just a little OCD about yard work.)

I just let it go and continued on my merry "Freakish" way. I finished my front yard and moved over to Mr. "Slow"Lee's.

" WOO HOO" for me! The ole fart had gotten up at the crack of dawn and hacked down all the brush in the back of his house and cut down the weeds by his creek...creating a LOT more yard for me to cut for him for free. He'd better be glad I really like him because there were so many newly exposed rocks and holes I had never seen before that I felt like I was on a Baja adventure on a 9HP vehicle. I hit an unexpected rock and Johnny protested loudly with a "Twap twap twap twap" that didn't sound good. I cut the blade off and pulled back into my garage. The blade was bent and hitting the guard.

Mr. "Slow""Lee came waltzing over with a cigarette to see what was keeping me from finishing to cut his yard for free. I told him the blade was hitting the guard and he said (all manly) "Let me pick it up so you can see underneath." With his cig in his mouth and every vein in his neck sticking out, he lifted the 400 pound mower.

I saw where it was hitting, because my guard had been bent from HIS newly exposed rocks and tried banging it out with a hammer. After he looked like he was going into "Stroke" mode, I called Zach out into the garage to help. Mr. "Slow"Lee said we should prop the mower up on the cooler he saw sitting in the garage so we did just that. I heard something pop when they sat the mower on the small cooler but kept banging away with my hammer.

I finally got it where the blade didn't hit and jumped back on my baby to finish his yard and start on my back yard.

Once again I got that "Rebel" sense and when in my own stinking yard got too close to a stepping stone and clipped it. The "Twap" was replaced with a "Blam Blam Blam" and I looked beside me to see dirt being thrown up like I was tilling to plant corn.

I raised the blade and it didn't get any better. I stopped and got off to see a blade curled up into a smiley face and that didn't make ME very happy.

Zach came out back and said calmly as always "Why'd you keep going...you've dug up half the back yard?"

So I am persistent too.

Now half my back yard is tilled up for no apparent reason. I finished EVERY ONE ELSE'S YARD but now half of my yard sits uncut and the other half sits PLOWED UP.

I'm going to buy a new blade tomorrow and beg my brother in law (who I KNOW reads my blog) to put it on for me.

If "Johnny" could he would break up with me. If he could he would start his own engine and run away. But lucky for me he needs ME to turn the key. He sits out back waiting for me to fix him and believe me you I will!

When he gets his new blade I will whisper into his ear (That's what I call his spark plug) and promise to be more careful. I won't try anymore steep hill climbs and will put him in low gear when cutting in new places.

"I love you, Johnny...just give me ONE more chance."

Check this video to see the destructive path I cut half way around my back yard. My friend said to plant flowers in it. That would only give my three dogs more things to eat, pee on and destroy.

I think I'll just go with a new blade and a new sense of respect for my baby..."Johnny."

Til next time...COTTON (It looks like I'm trying to plant some cotton)

Cartoon Net "Work" Part Too !

No one at work seemed upset with my last post about the cartoon net"work" I work in so I'll charge ahead with some I left out the first go 'round. To the left is my friend the dishwasher. She helps out also with the food prep and has a voice that reminds me so much of Charo that I expect her to say "coochie coochie" at any given time. Not to mention she always has plenty of make up and lip stick on and platinum blond hair.

Let's move on the man that started this all for me. He looks so much like John Belushi when he starred in Animal House that it isn't even remotely funny. His disposition is the same...his demeanor is the same and the first time I asked him for a side of potatoes I thought he would deliver them to me the same way John Belushi did in Animal House. I thought he would pound both of his cheeks with his fists and spew them at me like "Here's your taters biotch."

Let's move on to another server that I love to death but who will most certainly want to kill me when I assign her likeness to Olive Oyl. She is tall, definitely slim and has jet black hair. Hey!! At least she works in an Italian restaurant...hence "Olive Oyl" can translate easily into the scheme of things.

Next up are the two cute female bartenders that are best friends and women that are truly and justly feared by their husbands (Smart men.) They make Thelma and Louise look like "Betty and Wilma" with a "Lucy and Ethel" twist.

We have a new cook. I have never seen him with his cap off, it is always the same cap and seems to be stitched onto his head. He is quiet and very efficient and a great addition to our team. I have seen him twice outside of work and he STILL had that very same cap on.

Back to our fearless leader. I had to admit to my good friend who is the owner's son that he was pretty dead on with the Mr. Magoo for his dad so I thought I would give the boss man another shout out here.

Thank the Lord he is like my husband and doesn't read my blog...but like I say "If the cartoon fits..."

I absolutely love my new job and the cartoon characters I work with. Come in to eat with me and see how many people you can match with their cartoon counter parts...AND have a great meal while you are there!

Til next time"Tooned In" COTTON

Earned My Title of "Camp Fire Girl" Again

When I was in first grade I was a "Blue Bird." That is the equivalent of a "Brownie."

After a couple of years I 'flew up' to the status of Camp Fire Girl and stayed in until seventh grade. I am still friends with several of the girls that were in my Troop.

Last night my "Camp Fire" training came in handy (NOT.)

Massey had a sleep over with several other girls. The plan was to camp out in the back yard in a big tent and roast hot dogs and make Smores over the fire pit.

My two sons dug a huge fire pit several years ago in the middle of our back yard during an industrious spurt of unasked for hard work. It is at least six feet across and outlined with bricks and large stones found back in the woods behind our house.

I came home from work one night last year to find Zach and the next door neighbor's son burning some old broken down bed room furniture of Massey's that had just been taking up space in the garage. The flames were well over twenty feet high and I immediately pulled the hose into the back yard when I saw my son and the neighbor tossing over a huge chest of drawers over the fence from my neighbor's yard into ours.

It was more a "Bon" fire pit and made me EXTREMELY nervous when they chunked the huge dresser onto the already twenty five foot high inferno.

Zach has recently cut down a small tree in the woods behind our house (I'm not sure WHY he did but I didn't bother to question him when he chose physical activity over video or computer activity.) When you have teens... I have learned it is best to never look a gift horse in the mouth.

I asked Zach if he would drag the tree into the back yard so his Dad could chop it up for the fire pit? I think adding the part about Tim doing the chopping made the deal sweeter and Zach lugged the tree into the yard.

After begging Tim to chop the tree up saying I wouldn't ask him for anything else (with my fingers crossed behind my back) he went and halfway chopped the tree. It was pretty dry so I could snap most of the smaller branches myself and the pit was pretty full of dead limbs and ready to go.

The girls hadn't pitched the tent yet...for Pete's sake it was still 90 degrees at 8:00 and I told them they'd die of heat stroke if they all squeezed into a tent before the sun went down. Instead I suggested we light the fire and do a little "Smoring."

I didn't have any kindling and Tim already had the fire pit full with the tree so I tried a piece of newspaper stuck in the middle. The dry leaves burned up quickly but the fire didn't catch.

The girls were sitting on the back deck at the patio table by the kitchen door unwinding coat hangers in anticipation of their "Smoresfest."

I went into the garage to see if I had any lighter fluid left (of course not) so chose instead about a cup of gasoline.

I guess by now you can see where this story is headed...

The girls were all far away from the fire pit...I was out in the middle of our huge back yard and kind of spread the gasoline around pretty evenly for an even burn.

I lit a piece of paper and stepped back as I tossed it into the middle of my fire pit.

The atom bomb that went off would have been impressive if it hadn't scared the living poop out of me and even made my hair blow back from my astonished face.

After checking to make sure I still had eye brows I turned to the girls who were all, for once quiet and speechless and said "I guess we have ignition."

I made a mental note to buy more lighter fluid and dragged the hose into the back yard.

I looked at the back kitchen door and saw my husband standing behind the glass shaking his head back and forth slowly as if to say "And you call ME stupid."

Once the fire died down the girls all came out into the yard with their marsh mellows on wires and I told them "They may taste a little unleaded but I don't think they will kill you."

When I went inside to change my underwear I asked my husband if he heard me light the fire pit... he said he not only heard it but it shook the house.

I guess I know now why gas is almost $3.00 a gallon. That's some powerful crap!

The girls all had a ball and enjoyed seeing me set off an atomic bomb they could admire from afar and I learned why I always kept kids FAR away from me while trying to light a fire.

The girls never even set foot in the tent...they would have died from heat exhaustion it was was so hot last night but opted for Rock Band in the living room til well after 2 in the morning after sending me on a midnight run to the convenience store for more Cokes, Skittles and Almond Joys.

So I AM a little stupid...but at least I know enough to keep every one else out of harm's way while I attempt to make my children Motherless.

Guess I didn't shine as a Camp Fire Girl last night but I was a hit as the entertainment and as a bonus discovered I may have Bladder control problems.

All's well that ends well...and the sleepover didn't end til 4:30 this afternoon.

How funny can things be to a group of 14 and 15 year old girls? By the sounds I heard until well after 3 in the morning...they must be pretty hilarious.

They all had fun and I dodged death.

I'd call that a successful evening.

Til next time..."The Flame Thrower."

The Cartoon World I Work In

Let me start off by saying I absolutely LOVE my new job and all of the people I work with and for. We have a little game that a few of us like to play...assign an employee to a cartoon character or TV personality that best fits their look, actions or demeanor. I'll take the first hit...I am DEFINITELY Sonic the Hedgehog. Personality wise and "Hair wise."

Next up is my dear friend who is the owner's son and a chef that can kick #@%. He is hands down "Quick Draw" with the Latino cook who is as crazy as they come as his side kick "Baba Booey."

Next up is another cook who I used to work with as a manager at my old place. He has recently left for another job but hands down was "The Brain" after a hard long shift with his shaved head and childish face.

Moving on to the servers...Leonard (I don't think he'll mind me using his name) is so dead on as "The Pink Panther" that it isn't even funny. A tall guy that is slick and sleek. He knows his job well and never seems to be in a hurry but gets everything done with seemingly no effort or panic.



Next up is our boss..the owner. He is SO Dr.Evil that Mike Meyers should pay HIM . In his chef's coat he looks the part and when he gets upset he LIVES the part. His son told me to use Mr. Magoo...I think I will stick with Dr. Evil.

Next is another cook that has the attitude and build of Patrick the starfish. He never gets upset, is always nice and congenial and is one of the most pleasant people I have ever met. I don't think Patrick has any enemies...neither does our cook.

Moving over into the dish area we have our "Mickey Mouse." A cute Latino with huge ears and an even bigger heart. Always happy and always ready to help.






Then we move back to servers and meet Irona. She is a robot. You could come up behind her with a knife and draw it back and she would politely say "Am I in your way?" Nothing rattles her and it is hard to imagine her running or being in a hurry. She just takes life as it comes and rolls with it's punches.

We covered the "Professor" in my last blog but his title is quite befitting. He is smart and has guaranteed me that he can make a battery out of a coconut if the need arises.

Back to servers..this gal recently got a bob hair cut that looks so much like Dora I feel like saying "Swiper no swiping" ever time I see her.

It's just a game...it's just a way to fill the down time. It's also one of the greatest games I've ever joined.

Think about people in your own life. Think about who they seem like and who would be a character they represent.

Maybe I'll do my family next!

Let's see...I know my father in law is Mr. Burns (from The Simpson's) and my dogs are Larry, Curly and Moe. My husband is more like Mr. Magoo than my boss except that he isn't rich and sleeps like Rip Van Winkle.

I'll have to work on this...don't get me wrong, it's already in the works...

Til next time..."Sonic."

The "Professor" Leaves Our Island

Tonight after work we had a party for one of our fellow employees who is jumping ship and moving to Miami..(am I small enough to stow away in one of his bags?)

This was the first time I have been with all my new fellow workers in a "non working situation" and I must say it was even more delightful than it is to work with them.

We all met at the bowling alley after work ... at first I thought I wouldn't go...then I got home, found three dogs waiting for me and no one else so I decided "What the hey" changed clothes and went to say farewell to a guy that I have only known a few short months but have come to genuinely love respect and admire.

I call him "The Professor' ...remember the only savvy person on Gilligan's Island? Well that's my new friend that is leaving us for the sunny beaches of Miami. He has a lot going on and is an excellent server and I consider him a dear friend. He thought about going to medical school and I am sure he would have made it but as we all do, sometimes you get sidetracked in your crazy youth and end up on a different road.

His path led him into the crazy world of serving...using his PHD in BS like I am, he has a flair for serving and can make more money in one short shift than most people can make in a twelve hour shift of gruelling corporate life.

There were about a dozen of us that showed up to send him off to a life in Miami that I secretly covet. Beautiful people, beautiful beaches and an atmosphere that I was born to live in if I hadn't married and had three kids.

I even have a picture of Peaches included (previous post.)

The people I work with are an amazing group of people, working for amazing crazy over worked and stressed beyond belief family that have opened a restaurant that is their life and livelihood.

If you work hard and do what they ask of you it is a cake walk. Step out of line or screw with their livelihood and you will be shown the door. I like that approach and that is why I enjoy working there so very much. I don't answer to a corporation I have never met, I answer to the owner's that I see every day working ten to twelve hours a day seven days a week.

This is a picture of one of my favorite co workers...we call him "The Pink Panther." The name SO fits and you can hear the theme song in your head as he walks towards you.

This is a picture of me and the Professor...DANG I'll miss him on our little island.

Here's the Professor with the head waitress who I also love and can crack up in an instant (I love people that think I am as funny as I do.)


Here's a video of a few of the employees...notice I always HOLD the camera so as NOT to be IN the video. One of my favorite bartenders shows up (Big Black) with his cute girlfriend(another blog altogether) and it shows a quick glimpse into the wonderful world I have been graciously welcomed into.

I will miss the Professor, but now Massey and I have someone to go visit in Miami...and don't think I won't go! Mark (AKA The Professor) has warned me if we do I might not want to come back. I'm willing to take the chance.

It is crazy how happy I am in my new home and how 'At Home' I already feel.

I looked up at work tonight to see my arch nemesis...the General Manager who fired me after 13 years at my last restaurant sitting at the bar. I felt like blowing him a kiss...at least he knows a good restaurant when he sees it.

Happy to be home alone (no kids no hubby...just three dogs that can't talk back... stereo up ... laundry washing and a cold beer by my side.)

Life is good...especially when you are in a better place ; Can look your former boss in the eye and be glad that his face is not one you have to see every day.

I will miss "The Professor" and hope to stay in touch. He will do great wherever he goes and has lived in Miami before and has lots of connections.

Massey and I are already planning another road trip...Look out Professor...Here come Mary Ann and Ginger!

Til next time...I'll be Ginger and let Massey be Mary Ann. I'll have to remember to take a slinky sparkly gown to Miami and bring Massey some Daisy Dukes and a bandana top.

BTW...why did they have all those clothes packed for "A Three Hour Tour?"

As always...click on the photos and video

"Going Cable" Replaces "Going Postal"

I think Cable employees should be sheltered behind plate glass windows...at least I would want to be if I worked for them.

First on my list of complaints is their 24 hour help line. Every time I call, "Apu" answers the phone in broken English so difficult to understand that I feel like having a translator on speaker phone with me.

They are nice enough people but are usually in Thailand or the Philippines and obviously the college degree they hold isn't "English."

When my computer crashed a year ago I was on the phone with them on a daily basis. Sometimes when my call was finally answered and I couldn't even understand their name I would hang up and redial until someone answered and said brightly "This is John, how may I help you?"

I am not saying I am racially biased...God (or Allah) bless them but when you are already having I.T. issues you don't want to have to decipher their name much less their instructions.


I guess you can say I am "Languagely biased."

Of course going to the local cable office isn't much better except there, it is the idiot customers that always seem to be in FRONT of you in line that make you want to have an UZI in your pocket or at least a muzzle or a stun gun.

Case in point: Yesterday I dragged Zach with me to the cable office to return a box that had started messing up and had obviuosly outlived it's cable life expectancy.

There were two people in front of us...a guy in a red button down shirt with a dragon on the back, black pants and red belt and obviuosly no sense of hearing. The man behind him was an elderly African American with a cast on one foot and he held on to the newspaper rack next to him for support while we waited in line.

When the "Dragon Con" guy got waited on he boomed out in an overly loud voice ( that's a pretty bold statement since I've never been called 'quiet') and relayed to everyone within a mile radius that "This is how it all started..."

At this point the older gentleman in front of us with the cast on went and sat down in a chair knowing that this wasn't going to be pretty or quickly resolved.

Mr. "Dragon Con" went on for five minutes about how he had moved and gotten cable service from them in his new "Dragon Cave" and expected a bill in about thirty days. "After 45 days I recieved a bill at my OLD address with a late fee.." The clerk stopped him there and asked for a phone number.

He replied "THIS WASN'T THE END OF MY STORY..."

I rolled my eyes and for once Zach had the same look on HIS face and we shuffled around hoping another window would open.

BINGO...a girl announced to the now seven deep line "If you just need to swap out equipment I can take you on window 3."

We stepped over to window 3 and the older gentleman just remained in his chair (sucked for HIM not to be there just for a swap out of equipment but at least he was sitting down.)

I tried to tell the woman what was wrong with our box but had to shout over "Dragon Con" who was just getting to the MEAT of his story with every one now staring at him and even the employees behind the counter were throwing us glances like"Help Us!"

After we got our new cable box and shouted "THANK YOU" to her I mouthed the words "Good luck with the idiot" and she rolled her eyes at me as if to say "I think I'm going Cable on this guy in a minute."

When we left the old guy was still sitting in a chair and four more people had gotten in line to hear the rest of "Dragon Con's" story.

I had to go back to the cable company today to drop off a payment...didn't have to wait in line because I just stuck it in the payment box hoping they wouldn't pick up my check for at least 24 hours when I could make good on it...I pride myself on my check kiting.

There was a man at the window booming an octave above hollering "Why the HELL is my bill different every month?" I gave the girl from yesterday a little finger wave behind her counter and felt like blowing her a kiss for luck.

CABLE...ya gotta have it these days. It's like cell phones, they used to be a luxury but now are a necessity.

I am not so sure about this new "Jetsons" age but I'm not sure what other option I have...giving the kids two cans tied to each other with a string or going back to no TV's with cable in their bedrooms?

To the kids of today that would be like saying "You can only text me when the internet is down and you can't FB me or send me an email."

What kind of technology monsters are we creating?

Til next time....Facebooking, texting and cable ready COTTON

He's Eighteen...

So I am starting off with lyrics borrowed from Alice Cooper (who'd ever think I would need to do that?)

Lines form on my face and hands

Lines form from the ups and the downs

I'm in the middle without any plans

I'm a boy and I'm a man

I'm eighteen

and I don't know what I want

Eighteen

I just don't know what I want

Eighteen

I gotta get away

I've gotta get out of this place

I'll go runnin' in outer space

Oh yeah

I got a

baby's brain and an old man's heart

Took eighteen years to get this far

Don't always know what I'm talkin' about

Feels like I'm livin in the middle of doubt

Cause I'm

Eighteen

I get confused every day

Eighteen

I just don't know what to say

Eighteen

I gotta get away

Lines form on my face and my hands

Lines form on the left and right

I'm in the middle

the middle of life

I'm a boy and I'm a man

I'm eighteen and I LIKE IT

Yes I like it

Oh I like it

Love it

Like it

Love it

Eighteen!

Eighteen!

Eighteen!

Eighteen and I LIKE IT

Who would ever think I'd need Alice Cooper to sum up my 18 year old son so exactly?

I have gained new respect for Alice Cooper after coming across these lyrics today. Some eighteen year old boy/men might not fit these words but they seem to have been written specifically for my boy/man.

At least I made him smile once today (twice if you count a smirk.)

The owner of the restaurant I work for made Zach a HUGE Cannoli cake that weighed at least ten pounds and could feed a small village and then some. I made Zach two trays of lasagna, salad and garlic bread.

I dragged him around with me for an hour in the car making an appointment for his driving test (God help us all) and swapping out a faulty cable box (another blog altogether) and generally just spending some time alone with him.

He's a pouty sort...never lets you see him smile (that would mean he was actually happy) and it is sometimes hard to even get a verbal response from him.

I love him for the unique kid he is.

I love him because he came out healthy after 14 hours of labor.

I love him because he is the smartest little %$#* I have ever met and still wonder if there was a baby swap at the hospital 18 years ago today?

I love him because he is my son.

I love him because he is his OWN person.

Not the person that I would choose for him to be but for the person he feels compelled to be.

All that matters to me is that he succeeds as that person...succeeds in life and is happy with the path he chooses.

I worry too much about Zach...and he tells me that on a daily basis.

I realize now that HE is right.

I gave birth to him, I bought him his first Pokemon cards and put clear nail polish on his chigger bites when they invaded his privates before he even KNEW they were his privates.

He has grown into a young man before my eyes and I often wonder how long I blinked before he was all grown up and I was left with an open mouth and another child entering adulthood without my permission?

To raise children is an eye opening often challenging but always rewarding experience if you do it remotely right.

I wouldn't say I was the best mother (I don't even OWN an apron) but love my children unconditionally and without any reservations.

To me that is the role of a "Mother."

I love my kids, I brought them into this world I will love them every step of the way until I am forced to leave this world.

There may be mis steps along the way... there may be falters or failures but you know what...as long as they are trying as long as they are breathing and as long as I can reach out and touch their faces and look into their eyes, there is no greater pleasure than to be a Mother and see what God can bless you with, curse you with and make you realize what the circle of life is all about.

Tim and I created these people, I love these people and for some crazy reason they all love me. Even if they refuse to tell or show me I know that they love me just as much as I love them...and that's what counts.

Happy Birthday, Zach...I love you more than you will ever know.

MOM

I LIKE THAT BOOM BOOM POW...

Massey's high school band has a Fireworks Tent to raise money for the Band and Guard.

These kids have a ball when they are together and what a great group of kids they are.

I cannot say enough positive things about this band program. The parent participation is what makes it all work so smoothly. I feel terrible that I have fallen so behind in MY volunteering, but keeping a roof over our heads has kind of taken up most of my time in the past six months.

The band is an eclectic and varied group. There are underclassmen upperclassmen skinny kids and big kids. Blacks Whites Latinos and Asians...even Native Americans. They are ALL Marching Indians and a group I am lucky to have my daughter be a part of.

I love having teen agers (hope my kids don't read this, it'll ruin my reputation as the "Bad Cop." )

They keep me feeling young, make me LOOK older and are definitely not helping me in the gray hair department...but I love having kids around my house and at least I always know where MY kids are!

My middle son rolled his eyes when he saw the title to this post, but it seemed to go along with the Fireworks theme and happens to be a very cool song by the Black Eyed Peas. At least at fifty I KNOW who the Black Eyed Peas are.

Thanks to Massey and her guard I even know who Ke$ha is....and who told this girl that a dollar sign was a letter? "Tick Tock" is her big song and Massey has beat it into my head so much that even I know the words now.

The lyrics aren't exactly VBS material, but I know they mean nothing more to Massey than a song with a good beat and something that the guard likes to do their little dance to. I can't really imagine any of the Guard brushing their teeth with a bottle of "Jack" or "Kicking a man to the curb unless they look like Mick Jagger." Number one: Mick Jagger is ugly as sin and Number two: I don't have any Jack Daniels in my house...maybe a Charlie Daniels album (I always loved The Devil Went Down To Georgia.)

Songs are just songs and kids will be kids.

Massey is all into the band...Zach is all into Zach.

It's midnight...now officially the Fourth of July. That means Zach's buddies have just arrived to shoot off fireworks in our back yard. Guess I am the only Mom that relented or is stupid enough to let some eighteen year old boys build a fire in the fire pit and keep Mr. "Slow" Lee next door from sleeping. We'll see how far they get before my husband wakes up and chases them all off, turning me from "Bad Cop" to "Good Cop."

The fire pit just lit with the "Phooff" of gasoline they used to give it a rapid start and it looked like an Atom bomb going off.

"BOYS."

I have to remind myself..."I like that Boom Boom Pow."

The bottle rockets are going up, the fire pit is roaring and five eighteen year old boys are happy as pigs in poop.

It could be worse...they could be drinking or doing drugs. Instead they are working on getting me kicked out of the subdivision.

Then again...who would cut the entrance to the subdivision twice for a measly forty bucks a month...who would cut all the neighbor's yards that won't cut them on their own? And who would there be to talk to the cops when they arrive at my house in about fifteen minutes?

Okay, my husband just woke up...things should be getting interesting now. He came downstairs looking like Homer Simpson in his whitey tighties and said "I guess we were the only idiots that would let them into a back yard."

I told him pretty much he was right and at least the fire works seemed to running out.

"I Like That Boom Boom Pow."

Let's just hope the woods behind my house don't ignite, and hope that the one kid that looks thirty years old is driving the other num nuts home.

"Oh to be a Cotton...tis a great thing." Unless I get arrested.