tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-307146892024-03-07T03:09:17.596-06:00Bucolic ScribblingsIn the country, no one knows if you swim naked.Jennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283334035989645291noreply@blogger.comBlogger347125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30714689.post-36854372309098919522009-02-03T15:01:00.004-06:002009-02-04T06:19:47.941-06:00Little girl in the cityYou know you're raising a country kid when you pull up to a four-way stop in your little town and there are four cars (including yours) waiting to go through the intersection. Your youngest daughter looks at all the cars, crosses her arms, sighs heavily and turns to you to say:<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">"I really hate big cities. There are too many cars and too many people. I'm glad we aren't city people."</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">Edited to fix my inappropriate use of an apostrophe. Thanks Amy and Kathy for catching it! </span>Jennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283334035989645291noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30714689.post-54031143422077461492009-01-20T11:50:00.003-06:002009-01-20T12:00:19.088-06:00The bugsSee them wiggle, see them creep, see them crawl. Imagine them crawling all over your body and through your hair. Can't you feel their little legs walking across your skin? Itch itch itch. Scratch scratch scratch. Shudder!<br /><br />We have (had) them. Unruly's school called Friday with the news no parent wants to hear.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">"Your child has lice. You need to come pick her up. Now."<br /></span><br />LICE!? OMG!! Gross gross gross! I am absolutely MORTIFIED!! We're not dirty people! She bathes and washes her hair EVERY night! I'm probably one of the cleanest people I know. I'm so organized and clean I have little spasms of panic when things are out of place or someone left a coffee ring or milk drip on the counter. I cannot stand disorganization or dirtiness. I'm so bad my family accuses me of being OCD.<br /><br />Now imagine how someone who may be a tad bit OCD about cleanliness reacts when she finds out her kid has bugs. In her hair. And probably on every last bit of clothing and bedding she owns. It's a full-out battle.<br /><br />We went through nearly an entire jug of laundry soap and at least four full hot water tanks washing everything that kid has touched. Including my sheets and blankets.<br /><br />She got to sit with insecticide on her head and sit again, for hours, while her father combed through her hair seeking nits. <br /><br />Ugh. Just writing about it is making my head crawl with imagined bugs. I made my hubs check ME for lice and nits because Unruly likes to climb into bed with me and snuggle. I just KNEW she snuggled those nasty little critters right onto my own head. <br /><br />He found none, thank goodness! <br /><br />So, in 7 to 10 days we get to dump chemicals on her head again, just in case we missed any of the nasty little critters.Jennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283334035989645291noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30714689.post-88855722276562030382009-01-12T12:04:00.002-06:002009-01-12T12:21:46.208-06:00Not getting that fuzzy feelingWhen I was young and in Girl Scouts I seem to remember doing a lot of stuff: Camping, outdoor activities, indoor activities that involved more than paper and crayons, learning about different cultures and people and attending different Girl Scout activities. <br /><br />I had fun. I learned a lot and I looked forward to meetings. Cookie sales were part of Girl Scouts but it certainly wasn't all that Girl Scouts was about. Sales funded our camping trips and whatnot. Sales were but a blip in the entire Girl Scouting experience.<br /><br />Now it seems like sales is all that Girl Scouts do.<br /><br />Unruly is in her second year of Girl Scouts and I am less than impressed. The first meeting this year we were handed a packet of information and a pile of Girl Scout calendars to sell. We had to sell magazine subscriptions and nuts/candy. No one wants to buy the calendars, the nuts or candy. They want the cookies and I don't blame them.<br /><br />Now we are selling cookies. This whole year of Girl Scouts has felt like nothing more than one big sell-fest. I'm not happy. Unruly is not having fun. We've missed the last two meetings because honestly, she's just not really excited about going and I don't blame her. Their meetings consist of hanging out in the church gym and coloring or making crafts. It just doesn't seem very Girl Scout-y to me. We missed a "cookie rally" Friday night because she has riding lessons every Friday night and it wasn't a very difficult decision to make. Riding lesson or cookie-selling meeting...hmmmm.... I don't know if this means she won't be allowed to sell cookies, and frankly, I really don't care.<br /><br />Last year we sold TONS of cookies and as a troop raised about $1,200. The girls were looking forward to some kind of field trip or camping during the summer to enjoy their hard-earned money. Nothing ever happened and Unruly was very disappointed. To top it off, I can't seem to get a straight answer about what happened to the money the girls earned by selling all that crap.<br /><br />The leaders from last year didn't continue this year so her troop was rolled into the current troop and so far, they've really done nothing but sell crap. No field trips, no camping trips, nothing. They are just going to sit in that gym and color pictures in between selling crap for all I know. <br /><br />We didn't join Girl Scouts to sell stuff all year long. My daughter is not a salesman for this organization and I absolutely do not support the constant push to sell sell sell. She's 8. She just wants to have fun and be a real Girl Scout. This is not what we expected and definitely not what we signed up for. I'm pretty sure we're done. Of course, I'll leave the final decision up to Unruly, but I just can't see doing this for the rest of the year.Jennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283334035989645291noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30714689.post-66612411720046367252009-01-07T11:53:00.002-06:002009-01-07T12:19:28.770-06:00Half a pound of fleshHubby and I have actually been sticking to our workout plan and using the new "toy" in the basement regularly. Three days a week for half an hour. Next week it bumps up to about 45 minutes. I lift weights and do aerobics between sets and while waiting for him to do his sets. Jump rope, jumping jacks, knee lifts, jogging in place, plyometrics, sit ups on the ball, lunges, etc. It's a start. I'm walking on the "off" days plus I have all the outdoor chores that do require some effort and I ride. So, I'm burning calories. I'm sweating.<br /><br />I'm on a 1,200 calorie a day diet which we started almost three weeks ago, along with the exercising. It's been tough for me as I've had to eliminate creamer and sweetener from my tea and my coffee and switch to plain, no-fat yogurt instead of all the exciting flavors I enjoyed before. We use no butter, no white bread, no white rice, no sugar, no pasta, very, very little cheese. I cook everything from scratch (I always have) and cut out the canned veggies (too much salt). And of course, people at work always bring something bad in (chocolate, cookies, bagels with cream cheese, etc. etc.) to tempt me. I've been GOOD! I indulged in ONE (yes ONE!) peanut M&M yesterday. That's it. I keep a food diary and have been using measuring cups for EVERYTHING so I know exactly what I'm eating. There isn't any guessing going on here. A serving is measured and the calories tabulated and added to the online diary so I can keep track of intake.<br /><br />He has lost around 4 pounds, which is right where he's supposed to be. Me. Half a pound. Half. A. Freaking. Pound. Why do I bother? Why do I keep trying when obviously it doesn't work for me and obviously, I'm meant to be fat? Do I need to go to a 900 calorie a day diet and work out EVERY day, twice a day? <br /><br />Yes, I'm frustrated. I'm frustrated and hungry and muscle sore. But, no pain, no gain, right? *sigh*Jennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283334035989645291noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30714689.post-1018291360610439602008-12-29T12:28:00.004-06:002008-12-29T12:49:21.893-06:00A little something for usMy husband and I typically don't get each other much for Christmas. We are kind of at that point where when he really wants something, he gets it, and I do, too. There are some things we hint about during the year and gift-giving throughout the year isn't uncommon for us. <br /><br />Anyway, this year we decided to splurge on ourselves. We both need to lose weight and get in shape and although I had a membership at a local gym, our schedules were seriously limiting the amount of time we could spend there. I was only getting to the gym a few times a month, him, not at all.<br /><br />For years he's been commenting about how much he wants a BowFlex. I was skeptical because it seemed like a fad to me. But, I decided to go ahead and research it a bit (because after hearing him make comments about one for the past 8 years, I figured it was a pretty big hint). And I discovered it was probably exactly what we needed to get us up off our butts. <br /><br />A few years ago our schedules meshed pretty well and we lived closer to the gym so we were able to work out together and push each other. I do better when I'm being pushed, or challenged by a partner. I think he does, too.<br /><br />So, now our basement is our workout zone. We have the new BowFlex. Which arrived in NINE boxes that weighed nearly 500# and had to be completely assembled! Ack. Hubby put that sucker together very well, I might add.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWek0ytu8Ep39aFMfoCxVKo8_hEIUKFy0IaA2wak_6B3T_EL5ZBqbGXpPQlhNaYboEBPTUw2KkuoUo_qL_Ag5ZGNnYCcoYyESZs8nl9jMCNaZYMfGhyYOikVJLPFMbe4fF18HR/s1600-h/bfx_pp_BF_HG_U2.jpeg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 125px; height: 145px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiWek0ytu8Ep39aFMfoCxVKo8_hEIUKFy0IaA2wak_6B3T_EL5ZBqbGXpPQlhNaYboEBPTUw2KkuoUo_qL_Ag5ZGNnYCcoYyESZs8nl9jMCNaZYMfGhyYOikVJLPFMbe4fF18HR/s320/bfx_pp_BF_HG_U2.jpeg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5285284922912781138" /></a> I also put the old stereo system down there. It doesn't get any radio stations and the CD player is toast, but I can still plug in my MP3 player and go. I have a yoga mat and my giant abs ball down there, too. I'd like to get a little TV with a built-in video/CD player so I can play some of my aerobics/yoga/pilates videos down there. Much more space than upstairs and the kids and critters aren't in the way. Every try to do a pilates plank with a kid who wants to sit on you while you do it? Yeah, not so helpful! How about crunches with the dogs trying to lick your face? Ewww...no fun! <br /><br />We've started working out and I must say, it's a good workout. And it is so nice having someone push me along and sweat right along with me. So, here's to hoping our splurge will really payoff in the long run!Jennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283334035989645291noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30714689.post-52549125497503800132008-12-27T07:59:00.002-06:002008-12-27T08:07:31.469-06:00Spring already?It's the MidWest. It's December. This is more like what we get in the spring. What the heck?! The ice in my yard and pastures are now mud and the creek is FLOODED. <br /><br />A <span style="font-weight:bold;">Tornado Watch</span> for the St. Louis area until noon.<br />A <span style="font-weight:bold;">Flash Flood Watch</span> has been posted until this evening.<br />Showers are likely in St. Louis and east this morning but isolated <span style="font-weight:bold;">severe storms</span> are possible west through 7am.<br />Most of the rest of the morning and early afternoon we can expect scattered showers and a few thunderstorms but from mid afternoon through mid evening strong to severe storms are likely as a cold front makes its way across the area.<br /><br />Ahead of the cold front<span style="font-weight:bold;"> record warm temperatures in the low 70s</span> are likely by the middle of the day.Jennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283334035989645291noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30714689.post-81795656560124717502008-12-26T11:59:00.002-06:002008-12-26T12:02:31.225-06:00The body bakery<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwr5njnbc8_pGbMcFqLNEdHSaMm9tJN2jPtKesyYF1FqaBje6BKET9hccLvm-mR4UN_bJW0jdI8jMMvF3Qhga3TjiVdppexAYaJZk5DBZBV9-VOxG646zsct9cGsJiowc4QiyZ/s1600-h/bread1.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjwr5njnbc8_pGbMcFqLNEdHSaMm9tJN2jPtKesyYF1FqaBje6BKET9hccLvm-mR4UN_bJW0jdI8jMMvF3Qhga3TjiVdppexAYaJZk5DBZBV9-VOxG646zsct9cGsJiowc4QiyZ/s320/bread1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5284160675193809298" /></a><br />Mmmm...care for a little butter with that <a href="http://shapeandcolour.wordpress.com/2008/05/15/kittiwat-unarrom-body-bakery/">dismembered head</a>? Bizzare-ness is all around us.Jennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283334035989645291noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30714689.post-1628438728588828942008-12-24T10:26:00.003-06:002008-12-24T10:51:29.110-06:00Just the stepmomOh my. Is it really almost Christmas? Really? Sheesh. Where did all the time go?<br /><br />Wild is gone for Christmas this year. She is with her birth mother, the woman who hasn't been able to spare more than 1/2 hour for her since she was born. <br /><br />Yes, it was Wild's decision to spend this holiday with a family of complete strangers. The Hubster and I decided that even though we'd much rather have her home, we also weren't going to stand in her way or stop her from seeing this woman. She's old enough to make that kind of decision.<br /><br />Am I hurt and angry? You betcha. Yeah, I'm only the stepmom, but dammit, I've been "only the stepmom" for 11 years. I've been there for every up and down, every hormonal freak-out and breakdown, every good thing, every breakup and disappointment. Her birth mother has NEVER been there. She hasn't been there for Wild at all but for some reason, Wild has put the woman up on a pedestal. In her mind, this woman can do no wrong. Nevermind she hasn't been a mother at all and has disappointed far more often than not. <br /><br />When the Egg Donor arrived to pick Wild up Sunday evening it was the first EVER that I've seen her. In 11 years, I'd never seen her before. She looked to be about 50 years old (even though she is younger than me), was missing quite a few teeth and smelled funky, like stale cigarettes, old body odor and mold. Imagine a meth addict and you'll have a pretty good idea of what I saw, stringy, unwashed hair and all. <br /><br />That is what my daughter left with. Was I uncomfortable with letting a stranger leave with Wild? Beyond description. But, again. I'm just the stepmom, there isn't a damn thing I can do about it. <br /><br />Unruly doesn't really understand why her sister didn't want to spend Christmas with us, and I really didn't know how to explain it without getting ugly about it. So, I kept my mouth halfway shut and just said she wanted to spend some time with her "real mom." I think she accepted that.<br /><br />So, Hubster and I are going to wrap presents tonight, and stuff just one stocking. Unruly and I will make cookies for Santa and sprinkle some "reindeer food" in the yard. We'll open gifts tomorrow morning, I'll bake a ham and in the afternoon we'll go see "Bedtime Stories." <br /><br />We won't have snow, we'll have freezing rain, again. To add to the mud and freezing rain we've had for the past month. <br /><br />Merry Christmas.Jennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283334035989645291noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30714689.post-12001176088049160072008-12-19T08:37:00.002-06:002008-12-19T08:46:06.635-06:00Pulling my hair outI just don't know whether to be grateful Unruly's school keeps such close tabs on the welfare of their students or be angry that mine seems to be singled out for some reason.<br /><br />First it was the walnut juice stains on her hands. I got a call from the nurse about that. <br />Then it was the itchy scalp. I got a call about that and a recommendation that I use conditioner on her head.<br />Today it's was a call about a cat bite Unruly got last night on her hand. The nurse wanted to let me know that Unruly had a cat bite (ummm..yes, we knew) and that she circled the bite with marker so we could watch for swelling. She also proceeded to tell me how dangerous cat bites can be. Well, thanks for that, but really, I have it under control. I know about cat bites. I told Unruly to tell me if it hurt more or felt hotter and told her cats have tons of nasty germs in their mouths that could cause her to get sick. I told the nurse, quite firmly, that the bite had been scrubbed, disinfected and slathered with antibiotic ointment and then covered with New Skin antibiotic before bed last night. I also told her that I was keeping an eye on it and would contact Unruly's doctor if I felt it was getting infected, thank you very much.<br /><br />Was that snotty of me? I'm frustrated at this point because it just feels like she's been singled out for some reason. We don't beat our kids. We don't abuse our kids. They are fed, bathed, clothed, housed and nurtured quite adequately. We don't yell at or ignore our kids, hell, they don't even get spanked when they probably should. <br /><br />So, I'm stuck between really wanting to make a stink about this perceived singling out of my daughter and just keeping my mouth shut and being thankful that the teacher and nurse are paying attention to the kids instead of just going through their days oblivious. Because really, I do hope they are just as attentive to the kids who NEED the intervention as they are to my kid, who is just being a kid.Jennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283334035989645291noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30714689.post-41332928806859222942008-12-11T10:27:00.005-06:002008-12-11T11:04:13.207-06:00Got Christmas?I imagine it would be even better if the viewer were under the influence of something pharmacological, kinda like watching Pink Floyd's "The Wall" while stoned.<br /><br />And the electric bill...oh, the electric bill! <br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/ot-B4V8oqPQ&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&hl=en&feature=player_embedded&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/ot-B4V8oqPQ&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&hl=en&feature=player_embedded&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/rmgf60CI_ks&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&hl=en&feature=player_embedded&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/rmgf60CI_ks&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&hl=en&feature=player_embedded&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object><br /><br /><object width="425" height="344"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/7hN-4gqlLrc&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&hl=en&feature=player_embedded&fs=1"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/7hN-4gqlLrc&color1=0xb1b1b1&color2=0xcfcfcf&hl=en&feature=player_embedded&fs=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"></embed></object>Jennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283334035989645291noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30714689.post-21590227417391578612008-12-05T09:03:00.002-06:002008-12-05T10:07:33.020-06:00Old hairUnruly climbed up on the couch next to me the other night for our nightly "snuggle time" before bed. Winter snuggle time is especially nice because we can get all nice and cozy under a warm blanket and just snuggle without sweating against each other.<br /><br />She likes to mess with my hair during snuggle time and this time, she found an odd patch of hair near my right temple.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">"Mommy, why are some of your hairs old?"</span> she asked, separating the grays from the auburn.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">"What do you mean 'old'?"</span> I queried, knowing perfectly well what she was referring to but wanting to hear her answer.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">"You know, old, all the color is gone and they are just white. Like old people,"</span> she explained.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">"Can you pull it out for me?"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">"No, mom, there are too many, I don't want to make you bald,"</span> she said.<br /><br />*sigh*<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">"You gave them to me, you know,"</span> I chided with a smile.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">"I know. And I'm going to give you more,"</span> she giggled. <span style="font-style:italic;">"Your whole hair will be old!"</span><br /><br />Ohh...that child. She is too smart for her own darned good.Jennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283334035989645291noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30714689.post-27701093794379758132008-11-29T14:50:00.003-06:002008-11-29T15:00:55.465-06:00The abattoirHe is now in the fridge. In pieces. He wouldn't even fit in the freaking sink whole! Seriously...I think that turkey still weighed at least 38 pounds by the time he was plucked and gutted. I don't have a pan big enough to cook him in whole and he was definitely not going to fit in my oven! So, pieces he became. I now have two turkey breasts that probably weigh more than 5# each, two drumsticks that rival those gigantic roasted things you get at Ren Faires, a couple of Tupperware tubs packed with dark meat and a 15 gallon pot of vegetables and turkey stock simmering on the stove. I even managed to harvest that last of my fresh herbs to toss in the pot. Mmmm...smells delicious! I'll freeze most of it into gallon-sized freezer bags and use it for soups this winter.<br /><br />We did not butcher the other two turkeys. With as much meat as I know I'm going to have when I cook this guy we just won't have any room in the freezer for two more! And like I told my hubs...it kind of defeats the purpose of raising birds for fresh meat if you're just gonna toss 'em in the freezer. We'll butcher the other two as we want to eat them. <br /><br />I'm going to braise the meat cuts instead of roasting them to keep them tender and flavorful.Jennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283334035989645291noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30714689.post-61799287572272362672008-11-28T09:43:00.002-06:002008-11-28T09:48:29.091-06:00T-day delayedSo, we didn't have Thanksgiving on Thursday. We spent the day outside getting outside stuff done. You can't pass up a 60-degree, sunny day at the end of November! <br /><br />Actually, it was planned that way. We are having our Thanksgiving dinner on Sunday, with guests. One of our guests, whom we have over for Thanksgiving every year, had to work Thanksgiving day this year, so, we moved it. No big deal. Thanksgiving is whenever you celebrate it, as long as you celebrate it with friends, right? He doesn't have any family in the area and otherwise wouldn't have a Thanksgiving meal at all.<br /><br />This is our Thanksgiving dinner. Sans feathers, of course. Gobble gobble! We weighed him a couple of weeks ago and he was up to 43#. That's gonna be a LOT of leftover turkey sandwiches! And soup. And turkey wraps...and...wow. <br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCPG9AI83J30ykAd3TZPKRaNUAh9CHD7f0rEEHQHmjPnLNkl93xGx9HEh_HoOEm2xIesNKA8FZ7zCnpXyekQ0Svw1D-op3zb763eRJwvIB1Z-PZuVJLLWRxPmAD5Fj_eFRAXka/s1600-h/IMG_1266.JPG"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhCPG9AI83J30ykAd3TZPKRaNUAh9CHD7f0rEEHQHmjPnLNkl93xGx9HEh_HoOEm2xIesNKA8FZ7zCnpXyekQ0Svw1D-op3zb763eRJwvIB1Z-PZuVJLLWRxPmAD5Fj_eFRAXka/s320/IMG_1266.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5273734604792570274" /></a>Jennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283334035989645291noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30714689.post-73899819261016009592008-11-10T09:38:00.002-06:002008-11-10T10:57:02.812-06:00Chilling our bunsThe Hubs and I are having a little contest, with ourselves. We're attempting to see how long we can go before we turn on the furnace. So far, so good. Sunday was chilly and windy so we kept the fireplace blazing all day long. I think we burned an entire tree yesterday! Don't worry, it was a dead tree that was already on our property. It had to come down, didn't cost us anything aside from the labor and the gas for the chainsaw and we didn't take down a live tree. The house stayed at a very comfortable 65 degrees all day, and even felt overly warm at times. Sure, it gets a tad bit chilly at night and mornings aren't exactly pleasant when you have to climb out of a warm cocoon of covers into the chilly air, but the temperature isn't unlivable. <br /><br />Why are we freezing our buns off? Well, because. We heat our house with propane. This year it cost nearly double to fill our propane tank and when we run the furnace, we are burning not only propane, but running up the electric bill. When you total the two together, we could easily spend $300 a month to keep the house warm. It just hasn't really been cold enough to justify that cost. We all have sweaters and I have more blankets than we could possibly ever use at once. <br /><br />I personally believe most Americans keep their homes way too warm in the winter and way too cool in the summer. I like the temperature to be around 62 in the winter and 78 in the summer. I'm comfortable at those temps. I've walked into people's homes in the winter and immediately started SWEATING. Eighty-degrees in the winter in your home is TOO HOT. Imagine all the resources being used up just so you can wear shorts and a t-shirt in the middle of January. Did you know in many other countries, homes don't even have central air? Space heaters are the way to go...there isn't much sense heating the whole house when you and your family are in one room, right? When you change rooms, you move the heater. That makes sense! We may end up investing in a couple of space heaters, so even when we DO turn the furnace on, we can keep it low, low, low to keep the propane use down and the space heaters can take a majority of the chill off.<br /><br />So, we're going to see how long we can go without flipping on the furnace. I'm aiming for the end of November, but we'll see how things stack up.Jennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283334035989645291noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30714689.post-68179924926351052472008-10-29T13:55:00.003-05:002008-10-29T14:02:20.285-05:00And, yet againI can't decide whether I should be really, really irritated or not.<br /><br />Remember about a month or so ago when Unruly was sent to the nurses' office for walnut juice stains on her hands? I was a bit miffed about that, especially when the kid told the teacher her hands WEREN'T dirty, they were stained.<br /><br />Today I got a call from the nurse's office and I immediately think maybe she's feeling sick or something.<br /><br />Nope. She has an itchy scalp and the nurse just wanted to let me know she doesn't have head lice. Okay. Well, thank you for that, but I've been keeping tabs on her head because it is head lice season and, ummm...ick. Then, and this is where I'm feeling irritated, she proceeds to tell me how to use conditioner on Unruly's head and how to solve the itchy scalp thing. <br /><br />I KNOW why she has an itchy scalp today. She was being a butt about taking a shower last night and I sent her back TWICE to rinse her hair because there was still shampoo in it. She was too excited about pumpkin carving to get it rinsed entirely and I know she did a half-assed job. Her dad brushed her hair but apparently didn't notice any excess shampoo hanging around up there. <br /><br />I'm starting to feel like this school thinks we are trash or lousy parents or something, and it's not such a good feeling at all. My kids are well cared for. They have clean clothes and clean bodies and a live in a clean home. We aren't dirty people but I'm really feeling like the school, for some reason, thinks we are.<br /><br />I'm waiting for a call from family services wanting to do a home check because my kid had walnut juice-stained hands and an itchy scalp. <br /><br />Am I being overly sensitive about this?Jennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283334035989645291noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30714689.post-91124148312842956852008-10-25T09:26:00.002-05:002008-10-25T09:29:27.663-05:00Trials and Tribulations<span style="font-weight:bold;">A cross-post from my "professional" work blog at www.bnd.com:<span style="font-style:italic;"></span></span><br /><br />Do you ever have those weeks where you just want to foist your kids off on someone else for awhile? Or wonder, maybe for a moment, why the heck you EVER thought it was a good idea to become a parent?<br /><br />Yeah. It's been one of those weeks. And the week didn't get any better. There were some days I tried to come up with all kinds of extra work at the office so I could put off going home. That didn't work too well, they just called and harassed me at work. <span style="font-style:italic;">"When are you coming home? What are we having for dinner? Can I have a snack? Have you seen my library books? Where are my blue pants? So and so said such and such about whatsitsname...blah blah blah blah...."</span><br /><br />It wasn't just a normal bad kid week. It was a bad bad kid week. Unruly got kicked off the bus. Again. Yes, my second grader is well on her way to becoming a delinquent. This is the second time she's been booted from the bus for bad behavior so she already has a rap sheet. <br /><br />Why was she foisted from the bus this time? Oh. Because she punched two kids in the face. Just. Like. That. Wham. Wham.<br /><span style="font-style:italic;"><br />"Mom, they kept picking on me and wouldn't leave me alone even though I asked them to leave me alone, so I hit them."</span> Of course, to hear her tell it, she didn't mean to hit them in the face, she meant to push them away, the face punching thing was an accident. I was torn between giving her a high five for standing up for herself and locking her little fingers in one of those Chinese finger torture devices for hitting. Hitting isn't allowed, she knows this. <br /><br />It's one of those fine lines a parent tiptoes. I do want her to stand up for herself, I do want her to be able to tell someone "no" when they are doing something she doesn't like and expect they will comply. I don't want to raise a little wimp who sits back and refuses to stick up for herself and is the one who gets beat up because she's a little pansy. But when do you cross that line from self-defense to assault? It can be a tough conversation to have with a 7-year-old!<br /><br />So, she lost her bus privileges. On what planet is this a punishment for kids? It's a punishment to parents, no doubt, but she was loving it. Instead of spending 45 minutes on the big stinky, noisy bus, she got chauffeured to the school's front door in about 10 minutes. She got to sleep in for a week because she didn't have to catch the bus. How is that punishment? <br /><br />She did lose her TV privileges for the week and I found some pretty boring chores for her to do. Whether that works remains to be seen.<br /><br />Have I mentioned the craptacular kids behavior comes in pairs? No? They do. While I'm dealing with the youngest's inability to keep her little fists to herself, I'm also dealing with the oldest's inability to remember to do homework of any kind. I have not seen her bring home a single book all year long, and she is failing classes. At this rate she'll be lucky to graduate from high school before she turns 21.<br /><br />I ask, every day, <span style="font-style:italic;">"do you have homework? Do you need help with homework? Did you bring anything home to study?" </span>And every day, the answer is the same, "I did my homework at school and I don't 'have anything to study." I know she's lying, but how do I prove she didn't do her homework at school? She's 16 and she's responsible for assuring her homework is done. I can't go digging through her locker every day for homework and calling teachers at night to double check assignments. She's 16, she's past the age that I should be following up behind her to make sure she did her homework. Heck, I can't even get her to bring one. freaking. textbook. home.<br /><br />Friday I got a call from her English teacher. She's failing English even worse than before (how low can an F really go?) and neglected to turn in a pretty big assignment. An assignment that was apparently mostly completed IN CLASS. How the heck do you not turn something in that you've done in class? I don't understand and she has so far been unable to explain this particular phenomenon. <br /><br />Between the KO Queen and the Homework Evader, I'm at my wits end. I wonder how much I'd get for them on Craigslist...Jennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283334035989645291noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30714689.post-30888439069403309072008-10-23T14:27:00.002-05:002008-10-23T15:54:52.485-05:00Men vs Women: A Fat StorySometimes I am SO jealous of men. Seriously. My darling hubby and I have been dieting together. Okay, dieting isn't the right word. We are making changes in what we eat...reducing portions, selecting more healthy foods and he's eating fast food quite a bit less. <br /><br />We are both exercising. He goes for a walk during the day at work, I go to the gym 3-4 days a week. I do two Pilates classes and lift weights and do aerobics exercises at the gym.<br /><br />He just walks and shovels a bit less greasy fast food into his mouth. I work my ASS off and bring my breakfast and lunch to work every day. Typical breakfast/lunch at work consists of yogurt with fresh fruit, an apple, 1/2 cup bran cereal with flax and a PB&J sandwich on whole wheat bread. Sometimes I'll toss in one of those fat-free cups of chocolate pudding.<br /><br />After two weeks he has lost SEVEN pounds. I've lost half a pound. What the heck? <br /><br />For him, weight loss is easy. For me, it's a constant battle. I work hard to lose very little, then get depressed because I'm trying so hard to lose and can't. I eat when I get depressed, see the cycle? So when I get depressed, I gain more weight, try to take it off again, get depressed AGAIN when the results are pathetic. Of course, I always end up gaining more than I lose.<br /><br />Earlier this week he invited me to go to lunch with him, at a pizza place. I declined. He asked again, really trying to get me to go. He couldn't understand why I was saying no. I think I got through to him when I finally said: "Honey, I have to work three times as hard and eat five times LESS than you to lose even half what you do. Pizza is NOT on my list of okay food."<br /><br />But he'll never really understand because it is so easy for him to lose it. He will never understand how depressed and discouraged I get.<br /><br />I've battled my weight my entire life. For those who can look at someone who's overweight and say "just eat less," you have no idea how hard it can be. I eat less. A lot less. I exercise more. I really put a lot of effort into it then get very discouraged by the absolute lack of results. And no, I don't expect results in a few weeks. This is months and months of lackluster results.<br /><br />I've had really, really good results in the past, but maintaining the loss is very difficult. It slowly creeps back up. At one point I was working out for nearly two hours every day six days a week for more than a year, sometimes working out twice a day, plus riding and doing a lot of heavy lifting, digging, moving type of work around the barn and at home. After I hit that weight loss plateau I started getting more and more discouraged. I tried ramping up the exercise and cutting out even more food, but the scale refused to budge. You can only live on egg whites, tuna, apples, carrots, raw peas and protein shakes for so long before you feel like you are starving to death.<br /><br />So, I gave up. I just stopped going to the gym. I stopped watching what I ate. What was the point anyway? I couldn't live the rest of my life starving myself and working out like a fiend.<br /><br />I've had the thyroid tested. Nothing wrong there. I had my metabolism tested and as expected, it's very inefficient and extremely sluggish. I don't know how to change that. <br /><br />I'm at the point where I just don't know what to do any more.<br /><br />And that's depressing.Jennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283334035989645291noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30714689.post-56053439769490257902008-10-15T08:45:00.002-05:002008-10-15T11:01:40.527-05:00Politics, brieflyAhh, it's that time of year again. The time of year when politics becomes the topic of discussion in so many circles, both professional and personal.<br /><br />It drives me crazy when people assume that because I'm a member of "The Media" I'm automatically a "bleeding heart liberal." It happens ALL the time and actually, I find it quite offensive. <br /><br />Sure, I used to be very liberal, once a long time ago when I was in college and an active member of the <a href="http://norml.org/">NORML</a> organization. Very active. Back when I was an idealist and thought every one should be given a government hand out if they didn't have a job and needed some help. I was all for government programs to help the needy. I've spent far too long in this business and seen far too many "needy" who really aren't to believe that to be true any more. <br /><br />Today, I am very much against government interference, regulations and programs. We don't need MORE government, we need about 99% LESS government. Communities, churches, non-profits and family should help their neediest members, not the government. <br /><br />That might make me a conservative. But I'm not. There are too many stances conservatives take that I cannot agree with. <br /><br />Really, I would classify myself as a libertarian conservative. Not quite conservative, not quite liberal. Libertarians believe in personal liberty and small government. <br /><br />I am neither a Democrat nor a Republican.<br /><br />I am a member of the Green Party. So, maybe the Green Party is a little bit liberal, but the party emphasizes small government and encourages non-hierarchical participatory democracy, something we haven't had in this country for decades. Social justice and equal opportunity are Green Party values. Note: social JUSTICE, not government handouts. Big difference. <br /><br />That's enough politics. I just needed to get it off my chest because I am SO sick and tired of people assuming they know my political values strictly based on the career I chose.Jennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283334035989645291noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30714689.post-10145235508676709872008-10-13T19:03:00.003-05:002008-10-13T19:14:51.904-05:00Thank you Krista!<a href="http://herlings.blogspot.com/">Krista </a> gave me an award!<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX9nyoPfru7NV_IzlX6UmroReFMMP-Vm2-_Pd5whcdPD94KpBT_zVbux4GimpQ2fszCrZLF98-MMBEj8td0KOKe9Tk9CqzSeGoF2HPG1YF307Z6MDpXRZW8Q6Ac9_84MWBpMMc/s1600-h/proximade.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjX9nyoPfru7NV_IzlX6UmroReFMMP-Vm2-_Pd5whcdPD94KpBT_zVbux4GimpQ2fszCrZLF98-MMBEj8td0KOKe9Tk9CqzSeGoF2HPG1YF307Z6MDpXRZW8Q6Ac9_84MWBpMMc/s320/proximade.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5256794214269169730" /></a> <br /><br />This award is in Portuguese and translated says, “This blog invests and believes, in proximity," meaning, that blogging makes us 'close'.<br /><br />I actually "met" Krista though a comment she made on my mom's blog and I've been reading about her beautiful, curious son and delightful family ever since. It's amazing what kind of people you'll "meet" out there in cyberspace!<br /><br />I'm going to pass this award on to <a href="http://suzannemcminn.com/">Suzanne </a>at Chickens in the Road, <a href="http://homesteadinghousewife.blogspot.com/">Dana </a>at the Homesteading Housewife, <a href="http://www.letthedogin.com/">Wendy </a>at Let the Dog In! and <a href="http://willtherebecake.wordpress.com/">Liz </a>at Will There Be Cake? <br /><br />I feel like I've become friends with these women bloggers, not because I've ever met them in real life, but because of the passion that comes through in their blogs. I feel like I'm a part of their lives, or at least, given a little window into parts of their lives.Jennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283334035989645291noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30714689.post-65112284044392352642008-10-13T11:14:00.003-05:002008-10-13T11:51:39.171-05:00On this day, I married my best friendDear Hubby,<br /><br />Eight years. Can you believe we've been married for eight years today? And together for 11? My, how time flies. I remember our first date as if it happened just last week. The way you were so worried and shy and such a gentleman the entire night, but so thrilled that I agreed to meet you. <br /><br />We've both matured and changed over the years. We've adapted to those changes. We've grown and mellowed together. Our relationship has passed the hot and heavy stage and settled nicely in the comfortable, secure stage (but still perfectly able and willing to revert to the hot and heavy stage!). This is a good place to be. I am happy. I am content and I hope you are, too.<br /><br />You are my best friend. I know it doesn't feel like it sometimes (ie. I know I can be difficult to live with!), but you are the person I come to first when things in my life suck. You are the person I share my ideas, my thoughts, my hopes and dreams with because I know you will handle them gently, no matter how silly they might sound. You have been the catalyst that helps me reach some of the dreams I never really thought possible. Thank you. <br /><br />We've had our ups and downs. We've had some pretty rough downs, some I thought we wouldn't get through unscathed. But you stuck stubbornly with me and here we are, eight years later. We've learned some things about each other, we've both sacrificed, we've both given and taken and survived to be better people and a stronger couple for it all. Thank you. <br /><br />We don't always see eye-to-eye, but that's okay because we have learned how to try to see from the other's point of view. I'm not the greatest communicator in our relationship, but you've had the patience to listen to my ramblings and shoulder my craziness and try to understand what I fail to communicate clearly. You have more patience with me than I would have ever had with myself. I probably would have smacked myself around a few times if I had to deal with my stubbornness! <br /><br />I'm not always the best wife I could be, but dammit, I make a mean lasagna and chicken parmesan, that should count for something! Sometimes I pick fights for no reason at all and you don't lose your temper with me. (I'm sticking to the out-of-whack hormones excuse.) I don't know how you do it. For that, thank you. <br /><br />Happy anniversary, hon. I hope we have many, many more. <br /><br />Love ya!<br />JennJennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283334035989645291noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30714689.post-84718413191130247582008-10-10T13:50:00.003-05:002008-10-10T14:05:35.216-05:00Who came up with this Toothfairy crap?Worst. Mom. In. The. World. Right here. Worst. You know that worst feeling. Like if someone stepped on your face right now with dog poo stuck to their shoe it would be quite alright because you DESERVE it.<br /><br />I forgot to play the Toothfairy Wednesday night. Forgot. Yup. Just like that. My youngest loses a tooth and of course she's SO excited about it. And the Toothfairy rejected her enamel offering. Just failed to show up. <br /><br />Talk about a dejected little girl. Thursday morning she moped into my bedroom and flopped onto my bed, her sweet little morning-soft face turned down in a cloudy day frown. <br /><span style="font-style:italic;"><br />"What's wrong, honey?"<br /><br />"The Toothfairy didn't come get my tooth. I don't think she likes me."</span><br /><br />*panic* *quick! THINK! THINK!*<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">"Umm, where was your tooth?"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">"Under my pillow."<br /><br />"Was it in anything?"<br /><br />"No,"</span> she said cautiously.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">"Well, that explains it!"</span> I exclaim.<br /><br />She looks at me puzzled.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">"Don't you see!"</span> I said. <span style="font-style:italic;">"Your tooth is so itty bitty and your pillow so huge she probably just couldn't find it. Why don't you stick it in an envelope and try again tonight, okay?"</span><br /><br />She thinks about it for a moment and that explanation makes complete sense to her little 7-year-old brain.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">"Ok!" </span><br /><br />Tooth in envelope. Envelope under pillow Thursday night. Toothfairy on the prowl, determined not to make the same moronic mistake again. Pretty proud of herself for remembering the tooth this time. The Toothfairy digs into her wallet...<br /><br />*panic* *panic*<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">"HONEY!"</span> I holler at my hubby when I realize I have NO CASH! <span style="font-style:italic;">"Do you have any money?"</span><br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">"Umm. No." </span><br /><br />Oh. Crap. <br /><br />My husband and I tore the house apart looking for change. How pathetic. We even considered borrowing from Unruly's money jar to fulfill her Toothfairy dreams. We are awful parents.<br /><br />I found a half dollar piece under a layer of dust in our bedroom. He scrounged up a few quarters from the floor of his car. I found two more quarters hiding in my purse. We were saved!<br /><br />A much, much happier toothless child woke up this morning jangling her $1.50 in scrounged up change in a little manila envelope.<br /><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">"Mom! The Toothfairy CAME!! She remembered me!" </span><br /><br />Score!Jennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283334035989645291noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30714689.post-42839046328817933682008-10-01T11:46:00.001-05:002008-10-01T12:08:20.233-05:00I want that! Wednesday<div>When we were looking for our house Hubs and I both had chosen one or two MUSTS that the house had to have. My musts were: A fireplace and plenty of horse-friendly property.</div><div>His was an in-ground pool and space for his Man Cave.</div><div>I have a fireplace and the property. </div><div>But the fireplace has much to be desired. It's functional and warms very well, but it's not attractive at all. Seriously. It almost looks like it was an afterthought. </div><div> </div><div>When I think of fireplace I think of something like this:</div><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhrU6QjrgGGCfwNIZUpXGUIQYOZPFbQLOBXbjxoFl9nOarPwQhzjGCBFncFf3rp68fbNiUVoZLJ8BGNXmA_h9HKlT-u0EQn8isEnEYU3Y__SEN7ZX8xTafVg1tyBm7qHYcurQ8y/s200/Stone-Fireplace-Example.gif" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252233014599195778" /><div> </div><div>So, this is is what I want. </div><div>I want to sit in front of a beautiful stone fireplace and curl up with a good book. I want a faux fur rug to throw in front of it and just veg out on those bitter cold winter days.</div><div> </div><div> </div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJZrwjj1oCPhO7YNUjnnjOwnTGhoLzgCYp5FP0UkQLQjZPjFHwV7maOr0F8TJspdpJ9xrBwnJIN6rQU1OFx9B_2XzZRqVtyzIXRC5xyo46n4dYLzqKe5XQ6IEoCXjaQDVmBqex/s1600-h/I+Want+That+Button.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJZrwjj1oCPhO7YNUjnnjOwnTGhoLzgCYp5FP0UkQLQjZPjFHwV7maOr0F8TJspdpJ9xrBwnJIN6rQU1OFx9B_2XzZRqVtyzIXRC5xyo46n4dYLzqKe5XQ6IEoCXjaQDVmBqex/s200/I+Want+That+Button.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5252230386435881826" /></a>Jennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283334035989645291noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30714689.post-25364882819090374422008-09-26T12:38:00.003-05:002008-09-26T12:52:34.450-05:00Dirty, dirty, dirty<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoHnh8YKivLuqInTcH_O73yzAWZhWEuho3q6mGurwxa_BR-Bja5BzFu5XptV5yO7AI69AQHqrg76TenAbQI0SiikA7cTY3uKzcAWkLayaYXIFoW59VR-ot6XkN5jY5HPHIoYVG/s1600-h/images.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjoHnh8YKivLuqInTcH_O73yzAWZhWEuho3q6mGurwxa_BR-Bja5BzFu5XptV5yO7AI69AQHqrg76TenAbQI0SiikA7cTY3uKzcAWkLayaYXIFoW59VR-ot6XkN5jY5HPHIoYVG/s320/images.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5250389328166090306" /></a>Mortification is: Finding out your child was sent to the nurse because her hands were "dirty." Nothing makes you feel like a no-good, lousy parent faster than a teacher who thinks you sent your kid to school caked in filth.<br /><br />For the record Unruly's hands do look filthy. They look pretty disgusting and her fingernails are black. She looks like she's been digging around under the hood of a car and thrusting her sweet little hands into grease and grime. I've seen mechanics with better looking hands.<br /><br />But in truth, the kid was playing with the black walnuts that are falling into our yard. Gallons and gallons of odorous green balls with tasty nuts at the center became her toys. Those who grew up around black walnuts know: The juice in those green outer coverings stain like crazy and the blacker the outer coverings become, the worse the juice stains. That juice is used to stain wood and fabric and all kinds of other stuff. It's proven to be a very, very effective dye.<br /><br />She and one of her friends spent an evening smashing them and handling them and playing with them. Both girls came back with black hands that no amount of scrubbing with every cleanser available in my house would remove. We tried. Oh, we tried. But I stopped short of making her soak her hands in gasoline in an attempt to remove the stain. It just wasn't worth it to me. The kid could live with blackened hands, it wasn't hurting her one bit.<br /><br />I never imagined someone would be offended by her stained appendages.<br /><br />She went to school with "dirty" hands. Dirty hands that really were the cleanest they've probably been in awhile, but stained nonetheless. The stain wears off, eventually. I know this from personal experience. I've had those black walnut stained hands.<br /><br />But she got sent to the nurse because the teacher thought she was a filthy child. Even though the filthy child told the teacher it was black walnut juice and "wouldn't come off." But her teacher didn't listen and sent her to the nurse instead.<br /><br />I. Am. Mortified. Absolutely mortified.Jennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283334035989645291noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30714689.post-68907348912293986542008-09-25T20:25:00.003-05:002008-09-25T20:28:37.359-05:00Out of the mouthsI was having a conversation with Wild about boys. She's 16, boy problems are a given and she's having plenty of them. Unruly wandered outside to join us on the deck just as Wild muttered <span style="font-style:italic;">"All boys suck."</span><br />Unruly, hands on hips, looked her sister straight in the eye and sighed <span style="font-style:italic;">"Uh, your DAD is a boy."</span><br /><span style="font-style:italic;">"He's not a boy. He's a man,"</span> Wild responded.<br />Giggling Unruly piped up: <span style="font-style:italic;">"He's not a man. He's an OLD COOT!" </span><br /><br />And their true feelings are revealed. Old coot. Wait 'til he hits 38!Jennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283334035989645291noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-30714689.post-87829546507017171372008-09-18T10:37:00.001-05:002008-09-18T10:39:05.021-05:00Clogs!It amazes me how accurate these silly things can be with just few seemingly mundane questions. This is pretty spot on, even the job part. And I'd LOVE to live in Europe!<br /><br /><table width=350 align=center border=0 cellspacing=0 cellpadding=2><tr><td bgcolor="#EEEEEE" align=center><br /><font face="Georgia, Times New Roman, Times, serif" style='color:black; font-size: 14pt;'><br /><strong>You Are Clogs</strong><br /></font></td></tr><br /><tr><td bgcolor="#FFFFFF"><br /><center><img src="http://www.blogthingsimages.com/whatkindofshoeareyouquiz/clogs.gif" height="100" width="100"></center><br /><font color="#000000"><br />You are a solid and down to earth person.<br /><br />You seek – and almost always achieve – a really sound balance in your life.<br /><br /><br /><br />You are stylish yet comfortable. Mellow but driven. Excited yet calm.<br /><br />You are the perfect mesh of contradictions.<br /><br /><br /><br />No matter what happens, you have the ability to stay well grounded in your life.<br /><br />People know that they can truly depend on you.<br /><br /><br /><br />You should live: In Europe<br /><br /><br /><br />You should work: At a company dedicated to helping the world<br /></font></td></tr></table><br /><div align="center"><a href="http://www.blogthings.com/whatkindofshoeareyouquiz/">What Kind of Shoe Are You?</a></div>Jennhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16283334035989645291noreply@blogger.com4