Thursday, July 26, 2007


Big came home from school one day last year with a pensive and concerned look on her face. Sort-of like she might cry and sort of like she had a big splinter in the sole of her foot. As she approached and I asked how her day was, she skipped the nicetiest and barreled right into, "mom, we need to have a private conversation." In my house, this is 'code' and the alert signal for "I've got something big on my mind."

We went in, settled Middle and Little in and headed to sit on her bed for a closed door conversation. I was predicting boy trouble. She's popular with the boys because she can play a mean game of chase, belch like a sailor and fart under her armpit.

But, as tears welled up in her eyes and she began to purge her troubles . . it tumbled out like this:

"Mom, you have to go talk to my teacher."

"Why", I asked her.

"Becasue she doesn't know ANYTHING!", she began to sob. "She told us today that contractions are when you blend two words together . . . like DO plus NOT equals 'don't' or WE plus ARE equals "we're'."

"Yeah," I was following her (and her teacher).

"But mom, CONTRACTIONS are what you ask all the ladies on the phone about -- those pains you get when the baby is coming . . . . CONTRACTIONS don't have anything to do with our English lesson."

Hmm. I'm proud of her for listening both to ME and her TEACHER. But, I can't help but wonder what she knows about vaginal bleeding and discharge.

Monday, July 23, 2007

It was so amazing!

This weekend was softball tournament time.

Three team bracket.
Same teams we've been playing all season.

Blue team has been out-cheating us all season. Extra players in the outfield, stealing bases on infield errors, assistant coach with a loud, talk-down-to-women attitude.

Black team has been undefeated all season. Big girls, big hitters, flawless fielding.

We are purple team. We fall right in the middle. We're fair . . but we're not flawless or undefeated.

Saturday we beat blue team and we lost to black team.
That advanced us to Sunday's championship game against Team Black. We flipped for home team advantage. Bottom of the 4th (that's the inning limit) ..... we need 3 runs to win.

And guess what .. . . WE WON!!!!

I'm the happiest Team Purple Coach in the world! I'm pround of my Team Purple Player and all of the smiles on the tiny faces of the Team Purple Girls!!!


Wednesday, July 18, 2007


Y'all know, every now and then, I share forwarded email via blog. Here's one I like (with a few things altered or omitted for the fragile readers out there):

We've enjoyed redneck jokes for years, but now it's time to take a reflective look at the core beliefs of a culture that values home, family, country and God. If I had to stand before a dozen terrorists who threaten my life, I'd choose a half-dozen or so rednecks to back me up. Tire irons, squirrel guns and grit -- that's what rednecks are made of! I hope I am one of those.

Ya'll know who ya are...

You might be a redneck if. . .
It never occurred to you to be offended by the phrase, "One nation, under God. "
You've never protested about seeing the 10 Commandments posted in public places.
You still say "Christmas" instead of "The Holidays."
You bow your head when someone prays.
You stand and place your hand over your heart when they play The National Anthem.
You know what you believe, and you aren't afraid to say so no matter who's listening.
You respect your elders and expect your kids to do the same.
You love your family and you love your friends. But realize that sometimes, your family isn't your friend.
You'd give your last dollar to a friend.

Thought some of my true Redneck friends would appreciate seeing this .. since NONE of you sent it to Me!!

"Mom, I'm echo-locating."

A true story from this week (yes, it's only Wednesday)!

From the backseat, my son . .. who ya'll know is a walking encyclopedia of super-hero knowlege, says, "Mom, did you know that Daredevil is what is called blind?"

"No, Brother, I didn't realize that," I replied to him.

He continued, "Yep, daddy said, so it must be true .. and he uses echo-location to find his way around." (So many funny ideas in that phrase, but don't lose sight!!)

"He does??", I exclaimed, (partly becuase of the knowlege, another part because of the near perfect pronounciation.)

Though the conversation continued and he illustrated to me that he clearly understands blindness and also has a fine grasp on the concept of echolocation, the opening lines rang in my head for hours.

Yesterday: Little playing in the house . . . . . he is Daredevil now (so long for the days of Clifford). I was sitting at the computer, and noticed that he is walking around the circle/racetrack in our house . . . pretty fast . . . . with his eyes closed. He rammed into a wall . . and I issued the standard maternal warning of "Be careful, Daredevil."

Minutes later, he's gaining speed, still running with this eyes closed. In efforts to prevent serious injury, I said, "Son, you'll be safer if you open your eyes."

"Yeah," he responds, "but I'm okay. Don't worry . . . I'm echo-locating."

Okay, then, I thought. Back to this computer work.

Monday, July 16, 2007

Caption this Photo:

Quack, quack, quack . . they are water ducks.

As a child, I took swimming lessons at Splashland Hotsprings. It was at least a 30 minute drive from our country home (on the other side of the valley) to Splashland. How my mother managed to have me there in the morning with towel, sunscreen and swim garb is beyond me.

I spent most of my time in swimming lessons learning to blow bubbles. And, still, I was a nose holder. I sunk like a rock and soon became terrified of water. I was a much better bronzed goddess, laying poolside, than actually spending time in the water.

I still do not front crawl. I don't side breathe. I can't imagine having the coordination and water confidence to do the butterfly. I don't and never have been a diver. Feet first entry -- OK. But head first -- no thanks.

So . . . these amazing things top my list today:

A. Big can butterfly. At the grand old age of 7.
B. Middle can swim the length of the pool and side breathe/front crawl. This is amazing to me.
C. Little believes whole-heartedly that all superheroes must be proficient swimmers, in case a water rescue is necessary. He retrieved a dive stick today -- by HIMSELF!

I'm so proud!!

Thursday, July 12, 2007

Monday, July 09, 2007

Har-humph, I say.

Hey listen, out there . . . . ladies, mommies, friends and folks. It has come to me. An overwhelming, uncontrollable, unsolicited "har-humph" mood. Don't get me wrong, I'm not on a bender . . . . . I'm still generally pleasant . . . but the truth is:

a. The pile of crap that is stacked in the 2nd bay of the garage is beginning to irk me. Y'all know I constantly fight the urge to purge, and right now, that huge pile is looking like a giant heap of *hit. It would be happy in the back of the 1-800-GOT-JUNK truck. I just know it would.

b. Last week, a tribe of Asian men showed up. The put on stilts and insulated the ceiling in the basement. The also knocked over MOTH's water maker for his 250-gallon salty habit, (oops, I mean HOBBY) . . and send a stream of water gushing forth. Honest men that they were, they simply turned the water to the entire house OFF. Great, except that . . . (see, mommy detective on the scene) . . I found out . . . inquired, turned said water supply on -- only to discover: We need a boat in the basement. Yeah, well, a good hour later, MOTH home -- stomping, fuming, kicking boxes, placing blame . . . . (MEN! I sigh heavily here . . . . why must we blame someone right now . . . can't we work together to clean up the flippin' mess and fix what needs fixin'? Surely, our index fingers will work for pointing LATER!!) Anyhow, I bailed water into the window well, spoke in tongues to the men, kept from electrocuting myself, kept the kids from inhaling insulation or stepping on nails and still managed to negotiate the day.

c. Until the power went out. All of it, all over the neighborhood. Which, I actually really like -- the sound of silence is one of my favorites, no question! But what I don't like is power outage when I'm late getting out the door for a softball game . . . kids with no shoes . . missing mitts . . and now MOTH coming home to tend the salty habit-hobby instead of coming with me to said game . . . to assist with Angry Butterflies.

d. The 4th of July . . . . . not my favorite holiday, folks. Kind of bitter and bummed about the kind of money spent on fireworks. I like fireworks, don't get me wrong. What I don't like is seeing THOUSANDS of dollars go up in blasts of colorful smoke and loud bangs. What I don't like is un-safe venues. And what I REALLY don't like is being out past my bedtime. Heck, I'm still recovering!

Is there more? Maybe . . Probably . . . . but I'm done ranting . . . . I'm slinking back into my role of quiet resolution. Yeah, right.

Friday, July 06, 2007

Paris said something smart!!

Here is one of my true ironies. I absolutely DESPISE being watched. I'd make a rotten celebrity. I DESPISE being talked about, photographed (yes, even a family picture is like Chinese water torture to me), or judged.

The irony is that I LOVE People magazine. Seriously. Love. I love the pictures . . . and (like Playboy, I suppose) -- I love the articles. I truely love the letters to the editor with everyone's comments. Ballsy, brazen women with stong opinions on almost everything. It makes me chuckle.

Anyway, Paris Hilton on the cover. Poor sweetie got sent to jail. And she to eat bologna and peanut butter. She had to wear orange and poop on a toilet right by her bed. I imagine jail to be a horrid experience. I imagine it to be ten-fold worse for a woman like Paris Hilton.

So, People did this post prison interview, dissected her journals, talked ... . and she actually said something smart -- intuitive . . . . whole. Here is the quote, page 61 of the July 9, 2007 issue:

"It's made me realize that there are people I want to cut in my life and people who I want closer to me." And, when asked who to cut . . . she replies, "People who don't have my best interest in mind. People who are negative."

Glory be . . . . . can't we all use a little of that profound insight??

Monday, July 02, 2007

The New York Times

So, The New York Times interviewed us last week. I say "us" as in me and my business partner. It was a surreal experience. It was a short interview. But this week, we've received the update that they ARE (indeed), going to run a story about "us".

The reporter wanted something funny. She wanted antecdotal. She wanted humor. And y'all know, I AM ALL ABOUT HUMOR .. .

But, in the business world, it's very difficult to take what I do . . . as in, my livlihood, the business, our heart and soul .. and minimize it into antecdotal and humorous. Don't get me wrong, I can tell ALL KINDS of great stories about women who call who've managed to get their pregnant asses wedged in rocking chairs and can't figure out how to extract themselves. I can tell honest and true stories about women who wake at 2 am, craving tuna fish . .. the pad to the kitchen and prep a bowl of Chicken of the Sea, chow the whole thing down . . and then can't get back to sleep because they think the mercury in the tuna will kill the baby.

I'm a small town girl. Self admitted. And, my business partner's upbringing makes me look like I was raised in Metropolis. So, when we tell the story of "The Birth of our Business" . . it is REALLY hard NOT to make it sound like we threw the tires down off of the roof, and just happened to be using them for desks.

New York Times or not ... . it's a feather in our cap. And, ain't nuthin' wrong with a trailer. Heck, I grew up in a nice pea-green colored double wide.