Nut Juice Car Wash!

That's right! I washed my car with soap nut juice!

Before I get to that, let me tell you about another trick I learned. Because these things grow on trees you can throw them in a compost pile. So I also line my compost bucket with nut juice before I start piling in the peelings. This keeps things from sticking and from stinking (and the fruit flies don't bother it). Done and DONE!

Now for the real fun! Cleaning the car really does work. GET THIS! After the snowy season is over my car is caked with salty dirt and grime that sticks to my fingers every time I open and close the trunk. I just happen to always collect quarters in my ashtray (just quarters) for just this reason. Yes, I am a micromanager. So, as this spring approached I picked a warmish day and diligently counted my quarters into the wash bay control panel and selected "rinse," "foam brush" and "rinse" again. There was a minimum of $4.00 required before I could make my first selection. When did they start that? So, $4.00 and a dry car later I still had grime! Boo hoo! I could be $4 richer today. (Does this sound like a commercial? Hey Scouts, I can write a good damn commercial, can't I?) This time I wanted a free approach. Break out the scrubballs!! Hey! If they don't scratch teflon, surely my car is safe. I covered the bottom of my bucket in NUT JUICE and filled it half way with water(the other half was suds). Boy my car is sparkling now! I did find out that you need to actually touch every inch with the soapy scrubball or else when it dries you see little shapes where you missed, but that's easy enough (and cheap enough) to go back over. I couldn't even tell where I had washed with the foam brush at the carwash. I don't know what your standards are for shine, but when I see my car, I get jealous of it.

Post Pissed

Blogger sucks! That's right. I'm writing a blog against the same site that publishes my blogs. And I really hope they do something about it, even if it means kicking me off(which they won't). I realize I get this service for free but I feel like they should pay me to use it! It's ridiculous. If I spent this much time going back and correcting errors caused by a program at a place of employment, the company would be looking into better software. I spend more time fixing spacing screw-ups, indentation errors and photo placement in my damn posts than I do writing them. I would love to say that I'm going to research other free blogs, but, what with the kids home for the summer and all, I don't see myself having a lot of time for that. Not to mention that I've set up so many other social outlets around this blog that I have to wonder how long my luck will last in finding the name CyniSister available. I absolutely love the name and it only saddens me to think that nobody thought of it sooner. I can't believe I was the first person to think of it! How shitty is that? I actually am happy and depressed that I came up with a name that I love and that nobody else has taken. Maybe I should just be happy about my circumstance, but after all, today is the day for a cynical blog and I must point out how prosaic this world must be, when I'm creatively successful at anything.

On My Pyramid, Again!

Ok. So, nobody wants to be without health insurance.... more than I do. But, I am fully aware of the hazard that my reckless abandon could present in this country. In other words, I'm not willing to risk life or limb for a few extra bucks. That being said, I'm not ready to accept the idea that we don't have choices. We must! Or else this will become a blog about me denouncing the country and it's leaders for their communism(and I might disappear). Since I don't think that will happen, I'll lay out my plan.

It just so happens that I received a mailer from Blue Cross and Blue Shield, the other day. It advertises coverage of hospitalization, surgery, etc and that doctor's visits must be paid by the patience. Oh! And check-ups are free. So, as long as the premiums are reasonable and Doctor's

visits aren't ridiculous, it may be an option for us. I really want to know what it takes to pay for appointments outright. What if we pocketed our $400 a month(or put it in a holding account) and paid for all of our services directly. Let's face it, the insurance company is just a middle person. Why can't we cut them out? I don't think it's fair to pay someone $48,000 a year to file paperwork. Do you? What would happen if we all just canceled our insurance????? WHAT THEN?

I have a little less than 50 weeks before those ass munching premium increasers come back and beg my husband for his signature and money. What I want to find out between this time and that is: A) Do you really get fined if you don't have health insurance in this country?? I'm assuming that's just a vicious rumor, but it's something I want to look into. B) Will doctors and hospitals REALLY turn you away if you don't have a little laminated card?? I mean really? Doesn't that go against their code of ethics? C) What are some of the national healthcare providers and how do their prices match up? What does Blue Cross and Blue Shield have to say? D) If I don't like any of my other options, how hard would it be to start my own Insurance Company and provide coverage to only the President, Vice President and the two youngest shareholders in the history of said company? We'll pay ourselves to file paperwork and approve procedures. We wouldn't need a 1-800 number and we could demand more information from the doctors sending us overtly vague itemized bills. If we ever had to

sue our insurance company we'd be sure to win and personal service would be an understatement. My goal is to drastically reduce the $400 a month that is ripped from our possession, never to be seen again. I don't mind that amount coming out of our paycheck... as long as it's going back into our pockets somewhere down the road. Next year, at this time, I want to be out of the business of employing middle-people. Sorry claim adjusters, you cost too damn much!

Love Letter

May 21, 2011 - at a lake

This guy, who's a friend of a friend, has some land in the middle of nowhere. That is, of course, where I'm located - just east of Conservative and south of American Pride. Anyway, this friend of a friend was courteous enough to let us visit this land which has on it a lake surrounded by deciduous trees and patches of evergreens. The land and lake are cut off from the highway and civilized life and it's wildly beautiful! In one corner of the lake there is a patch of flooded trees like wet quills standing on end above a reflective scrap of parchment. We drifted out and around their trunks and scribbled on the water between them, but now our tiny boat is docked. We have all eaten lunch, snacked on fruit and finished our first drinks. At the moment, I have a daytime buzz, the poles' lines are descending the depths in search of life and the wind is drowning out our egos and showing us what it is to be immune to humanity. I'm trying to tell the trees, grass, water and wind that my patriotism lies with them. As a Human Being the only place that I love most, is Earth. I hope they're listening.

Come for the Cookies

Benjamin graduated Kindergarden yesterday. Before the ceremony his teacher came to me saying that Ben "burst" (burst was the word she used) into tears because he didn't want to wear his hat. She looked at me for some sort of feedback, but all I could do was shrug and shake my head. It's just a hat. I stood listening to her reason with me that she can't make him wear it and he might be the only one without a hat and I smiled and nodded and tried to assure her that he (and she) would be just fine. I didn't have the heart to tell her that I find kindergarden graduations to be the most ridiculous things on the planet. But, if you build it, they will come and bring cameras. I was there among 44 other sets of parents, grandparents, siblings, etc. only because I didn't want to be the asshole who didn't show up to take a picture when they handed him his fake diploma. What a crock.

Amazingly enough, Benjamin stood on stage, singing his songs and going through the motions as if thinking the whole time, "this is the most ridiculous thing on the planet," but all the while, wearing his hat. I have to admit the ceremony was pretty cute, but I have a feeling, we were all just there for the cookies.

On My Pyramid.

We got a little out of hand this past Christmas and now we're bleeding from our pants pockets. Once again I am trying to cut back on any unnecessary bills(sorry Culligan Man!), minimize weekly spending(Good-bye Starbucks... sniff... sniff.... Call me!) and consolidate the debt into the nice little pyramid that I used 12 years ago to get out of debt when we were first married and didn't know any better. No. We don't have any excuse this time. Damn you Christmas!

Our kids are getting so big and we love seeing their little mischievous faces light up. So, we broke down and got a credit card for this Christmas. BAD IDEA!! We haven't had a CC for almost 6 years. At least not one that we ever used. What made us do this heinous thing? Holidays of giving and children that make you love them crap, that's what! To be fair we also used it to finish the bathroom that was torn up for four years. It seemed like a good time to get serious about that one. So, now we're paying off some electronics and our shitter(many deposits are made in it daily by our family of four, but none of them are monetary enough). It stinks; quite literally.

Here's where the hormones kick in. As I assemble this bloody damn pyramid, I'm getting more and more pissed off! You see, paying the car off, I can handle. Paying off a little credit card debt? I've done it before. But the third largest expense is our damn doctor's bills. Because I take my kids in for annual checkups, fevers and allergy testing(one time) I suddenly have a bill near a thousand DAMN dollars. Sure, this year has been bad for my husband's sinuses, but here's the kicker... His monthly premiums just went up. Every year in May the insurance company that offers coverage through his job sends over a salesman to convince the employees to sign on for another year. They tell them that their rates have gone up and try to make it sound like a good thing (but if it were a good thing, they wouldn't need a salesman). This year they went as far as giving everyone a health assessment where they told the only vegetarian in the group that he needs to eat less red meat. (I fucking WISH I was making this up). We went from paying no co-pay to paying $25 a visit AND our premiums have increased. Do you want the good news? The $25 is supposed to be subtracted from the amount we are billed after our visit and now check-ups and physicals are free. Woopty Doo! Check-ups and physicals should be free anyway. They're preventative. And as I sit here munching my salad and following it with an apple, I want to jump for damn joy. I'm so not impressed. Before we started paying $25 a visit I could have had a physical anytime I wanted and I would have just been billed for it. Instead, we pay this bloodsucking company $400 a month and we never see anything come of it. Sure, I understand that if I'm in a car accident today and hospitalized or find out that I need surgery tomorrow, I will see some help... but I won't see $400 a month worth of help. You can bet your bottomtop that I'll be getting a bill from that hospital that will make me wish we were bringing in an extra $400 a month.

I think I have a plan but I'm going to have to revisit this at a later date....

Tax THIS

I declined enrollment to a magnet school for my children today. It felt heavy, like I was doing something that was, at this moment, shaping the nation. That must be how a President feels when he/she signs a bill into law. My children were accepted into a prestigious private school that I would have never dreamed we could afford until now. Maybe we'll find out we can't, but we're prepared to do a great many things in order to give them this opportunity. I'm not trying to make a huge political statement. I'm only trying to do something fantastic for my children. This school is a gem. We live along the bible belt in an area less progressive than a snail, but this school is independent of the government and of religion. My children will learn how to think. I mean think critically, problem solve, ask questions that matter, the important stuff. In essence, our children will get the education that my husband and I got from our public schools, but in a time when schools just aren't the same as they once were and legislation to do away with evolution isn't just laughed at as a clever pun. "Stop evolution? Ha ha ha, but we are still evolving today aren't we? hmmm... maybe not."
I like the school that they were in. I like the teachers and I love the principle but they suffer from the same affliction that I, as a teacher's daughter, have seen in the eyes of TOO MANY public school teachers. It's a disease called, "Too Few Funds." I know from much experience that if my mother had had bottomless pockets we would have simply afforded better games, puzzles and books. When teachers set out to teach, they do it with every means available to them. (unless they suck at it, like so many of the teachers who apparently parented Fox News morons) If a teacher does not have enough classroom funds, they will dip into their pockets to afford great teaching tools. I've seen it from the best. But how incredibly unfair is that? They barely make enough as it is and now they have to take from themselves and their families to teach our children? I would cry, but I'm not Glenn Beck, I have a good strong set of boobs on me. So, instead I blog and put my children in private school. At the same time, however, when I am asked to vote on a proposition to increase property taxes, to help the local public schools, I will vote YES. My taxes will not help my children, but I hope that they will help someone else's.
This Friday, we will take in a minor league baseball game. I like the minors because the assholes on the field are still trying to make the big bucks. They haven't done it yet, so they know how the majority of women feel(especially women who play baseball). At the minors, hot dogs are a little cheaper, seats are easy to come by and parking is fantastic. At the same time,we sit in a stadium much bigger than any of the schools in this little, god fearing, city and I have to wonder how much of our taxes paid to build it? How much do they make from the beer that we drink and why can't we combine this cultures fascination with sports and entertainment with our need to be more educated?? Surely there's a way. We just need chestier people to do something and ignore the people who are still just crying about it.

Abso-F#&*ing-lutely!

We cuss.

Not just we, the parents, but we, the whole family. Something about being in the military and being told that even if you don't like the president you can't say anything negative, hence, no freedom of speech, makes you want to have unlimited freedom of speech for the rest of you life. We're hoping that our kids get cussing out of their systems at a very awkwardly young age and see unnecessary cussing for what it is in adolescence, immaturity. We don't go crazy or look for reasons to use profanity, we just don't believe in censoring the outside world or our reaction to it. If in a movie, a character says, "Holy Shit!" and the kids think it's funny and say, "Holy Shit!" our only response is to tell them that while they may find it funny to use that language in our house, they cannot use it in public or at school unless they are prepared for the reaction they are going to get. If it becomes an issue outside of the house, we will no longer allow it inside the house. So far so good.
It is our belief that there is no such thing as a bad word. A word is a word. What makes something bad is the connotations attached to it. A word that makes me uncomfortable is the spanish word for black. Our country assigned some pretty nasty connotations to variations of this word, but the word itself is just a fucking color! See what I mean.
Over the years words that were never meant to be "bad" were made that way by circumstance. The absolutely insane part of it, is that our kids can no longer say, "Butt" at school. I mean, really???? Butt?? When I was in school we couldn't say ASS.
Little Jimmy: "You're an ass!"
Teacher: "Jimmy, watch your mouth!"
Little Jimmy: "You're a butthead?"
Teacher: "ok."
My kids have been told they can't say, "hell" and I've even heard a teacher tell them not to say, "oh my god." They can say, "I wanted a PBJ, BUT my mom made me a ham and cheese," but they can't say, "butt" if it's spelled with two t's in their heads?? What if someone uses the word "but" as a constant argument with everyone around them and another child wants to make a literary joke and call them a "but-head?" Will this really be criminal in today's school environment? The idea makes my fucking ass twitch! We've equipped our children with code names. From now on, "butthead" is "bottomtop." We told them that only they would know what it really meant and they thought this was pretty damn brilliant. Unfortunately, it's kinda catchy and now my husband and I can't stop calling the kids and each other bottomtops. Try it it's fun. Even in the privacy of our own home we prefer bottomtop. It is my goal to make bottomtop as offensive as possible so that it will be prohibited by the time my kids graduate. Then the word "ASS" will have much more "bad word" capital! And that will be abso-fucking-lutely fan-damn-tastic!

Voices in my Head

I'm finding out that I don't like writing at my desk. It's a good thing that all I have for a computer is a laptop because there's a little corner of my living room, between the shelf of records and the stereo equipment where one of my favorite wingback chairs is sitting, and I can't think of a more comfortable spot for my tush. I can see out of my picture window perfectly, am at a horrible angle with the television and at my head's height are greats like Janice Joplin, Bob Marley, Pink Floyd, Little Feet, etc, on vinyl. Maybe they are talking to me. I hope they never shut up.

This morning one of my favorite things happened. I woke up and couldn't remember what day it was. I couldn't even remember what time it was or when I had gone to bed. What had I done the night before?? It didn't last long. My memory came back to me, but for that little moment I must have come from some remarkably real and other world because it wiped my memory clean. I wish I could remember where I was. Sometimes I do, this time I didn't. Has your alarm ever sounded like it was yelling at you in a different language? This happens to me often as well. (I hope this is never used as evidence against me)

Suck it, Blow it, Light it up. Just don't burn it.

Uh hum.  My aunt sent me an email the other day.  It was a link to a video showing a car with disappearing doors.  Well, they sort of fold down and become a non-obstacle. Click Here to see the video. I'm going to attack it for a moment, but I am by no means attacking my aunt.  Her inquisitive nature is a good thing.  Looking into the future is a step in the right direction.  Who I am attacking are the brainless many it took to make this ridiculously foul video.  First of all, the car is a very classy looking sedan that, in the video, pulls up to mansions and red carpets.  Problem #1 occurs when these nicely dressed people get out of a car who's door, the commercial states, has been extended only 10 inches.  So, in essence, it's a two door car.  You can't possibly consider a door that hasn't even been given a whole foot to count as two doors.  So, this is a two door sedan and people still have to crawl out of the back seat.  I don't care how much money you have, no body wants to crawl out of a back seat. Problem #2 occurs in safety.  They had to eliminate the B Pillar (that's the bar that goes from the hood to the floor between the front door and back door).  You can't tell me that this doesn't effect the structural integrity of this car.  Imagine for a moment, getting t-boned.  A car door that folds down is not going to protect you worth a damn.  A door that doesn't fold down barely does any good, but at least manufacturers have been able to add an air bag to the B PILLAR!!  They can't do that, if it doesn't exist.  Problem # 3??  DUH!  The DOORS of cars are NOT the problem for which we are seeking a solution in the 21ST CENTURY.  Hello combustion engines!  Good bye ozone! Let us focus on the issues that effect our well being as humans first.  Shall we?  Now I don't know a lot about cars.  Hell, sometimes I can't remember what day it is when I wake up, but this is what I do know.
1. a. Somehow the turning of the wheels recharges the battery and this has something to do with the alternator.
    b. Those beautiful big wheels that spun next to a house on the river and looked as though they were churning it were powering the building they were attached to by harnessing the power of the water current.  Things spin and make power. Got it?  http://youtu.be/wDgGvPdAuTU
2. a. There is a car, today, recently invented, that runs on compressed AIR.  It's air, but it's compressed.
    b. Compressed air is how a nail gun drives a nail into a two by four or the shingles onto your roof. It's air, but it's compressed.  Got it?  http://www.flixxy.com/zero-pollution-automobile.htm
3. a. There's this adorable little bike for kids that uses the turning of the steering wheel to move forward and allows momentum to keep it going.  It turns on a stinkin' dime too! It looks so fun and goes so fast and all they do is use their arms to wiggle the steering wheel.  Wiggle wiggle ZOOM!
    b. Pulleys make a little work into a lot of energy.  This is evidenced in bicycles.  Peddle peddle ZOOM!  Got it?  http://youtu.be/rauJq_LTMYI
4. a. America specifically, and the world in general, has an obesity problem.  It probably stems from the fact that we don't have to work for anything. (that's physical work I'm talking about)  We work for paper money and the jobs that actual require some sort of physical labor are usually the lower paying ones.  We make more money to be fat shits and then we pay to go to a gym.

    b. If we could move through our streets just a touch slower to open up the possibility of lower power transportation, it would also be safer for those of us who would like to bike, ride a scooter, etc.  We do not NEED things like hummers in this world.  For any reason.  But if we keep driving them, someday we will need them because they will be the only thing our fat asses fit in.  Got it?

Put this all together with the fact that the FREAKIN' SUN produces power as well and you get some pretty nice fitting pieces to a puzzle.  Solar panel roofs, alternators, compressed air, a tiny touch of human power(pedals, hand cranks, nothing exhausting unless you work up a sweat peeling an orange) and maybe some blades that can harness the wind you will experience by MOVING. The vehicles may look a little funny at first, but we will have a life time to fix that. It is possible and I absolutely refuse to believe that it isn't. And I don't care who you are, with gas prices what they are, I don't think anyone is out there saying to themselves, "Man, if only these damn doors weren't in my way, then $4 a gallon wouldn't seem so bad." But nothing will happen until we decide to pull the heads of oil millionaires out of their own asses. Get it? This generation just needs to get fed up.  I think that there are some locked doors presenting obstacles, but they're not attached to our cars.

For Shoe Funds!

  I am supposed to be writing my Statement of Purpose for application to the Master’s program at the local college. I have the intro. written and it’s fantastic, but now as I actually get into reasons for returning to higher education, I’m at a loss.  I feel like saying, “I desperately want to get a Master’s degree because however hard it may be, I know some pretty dim people who have done it before me and let’s face it that little piece of paper is going to grant me some major shoe funds when I get a job.” or “I’m sick of stupid people and stupid bosses that know less then I do. I want a degree that ensures I will work for people who are more intelligent that I am and if that’s not possible then I will move onto my PhD and employ the buggers myself.”  

  Honestly, I just want to go back to school because I am boggled by great literature.  Why do some authors have the ability to string words together in such a way that your eyes skim over them comfortably while your mind sees images? Is there a rhythm to writing?  Does alliteration matter when the words are not being read aloud?  Do fantastic artists, like John Steinbeck study the pattern of his words or does he just think that coherently?  And once we are past the language, how are the concepts developed?  How is it that Thoreau can be so difficult to read, but so imbedded with meaning?  Did their heads spin as they wrote the sentences that spun ours? What makes a work of fiction good?  Is it a matter of opinion or is it a mathematical equation? I’m insanely interested in teaching entry level english classes.  I want to inspire people to read great literature and write great thoughts.  Will I even learn this in the program?  Surely the degree and classes I take to get it, won’t make me less prepared to teach than I am now.  So, what the heck right?  

  I should definitely finish my Purpose Statement with that sentiment.  “I want to attend the master’s program because, what the hell. It couldn’t hurt right?”

Wow Blogger

Wow. So blogger’s been down for a whole DAY now.  That’s impressive.  The problem must have been massive.  Fortunately it didn’t stop me from writing, so now there will be two more posts for all my two readers to catch up on.

Today I am self deprecating. In case you are already addicted to the side splitting wit, exceptional humor and obvious sarcasm, feel free to skip this post.

I tried to run today.  I guess I shouldn’t say, “tried.”  I mean, I did try, but I also succeeded.  I ran for ten minutes again, but the whole time I felt like one of those over dramatic people hyperventilating and all the while saying “I can’t breath” when really all they’re doing is breathing. I pant like a dog and sweat like a pig. I’m actually afraid to force my lungs to take deeper breaths(the sweating makes me happy). Maybe my next short term goal should be to just get over the fear of breathing more evenly.  Or maybe I should research techniques for expanding my lungs, though I think the problem is more in my head than in my lungs.  I feel fantastic afterwards.  Tired but great, except that I think I’m developing a muscle in my foot. Is that even possible?  I walk around like a gimp when I first get up from sitting but as it loosens I walk normally.  I hope i’m not hurting myself... I don’t feel like I am.  Is there a doctor in the house?

Creepy Kids

 As I stood, in my Pj's, looking at my closet this morning, I felt a presence.  I was deep in concentration thinking about what I would wear today, but this eerie feeling wouldn't go away.  I started to focus on it and became vaguely aware of eyes watching me.  I turned around, with the intent to make the feeling go away and there was my 6 year old, standing in the doorway, sucking his thumb.  "Good Morning" I whispered and he smiled and walked away.

  There is an instant of panic, as small as a pin prick, that flashes through me between the moment when I realize that I was being watched and the moment when I realize it was just my son.  This also happens to me when the kids wake me in the middle of the night. I jump! It can’t be healthy for children who are already scared from a nightmare to wake up a jumpy mother. They probably feel like they brought their dream with them and it scared me too. I even realize my child is trying to wake me somewhere in my unconscious and still jump upon waking. I’m not sure what jolts me.  Maybe it’s the kids eerie way of creeping into a room quietly.  If my husband wakes me up coming to bed, I hear his clodhoppers on the wood floor before he gets there.  But the kids are stealthily silent. I’m convinced they could work night ops.  But not Seal Team Six, because I try to teach them that killing is wrong and I hope that they are much older than 4 and 6 before they realize the world is full of hypocrites and I am among them.

  In other news....

Benjamin used the word “nocturnal” casually and correctly in a sentence the other day.  In the same setting he explained that he understood something was not real because it was “fiction”.  What a smart little boy. We had a lesson in title pages and why books have them, last night. He asks such brilliant questions. We discussed the need to practice reading this summer so that he can move closer to reading his own chapter books at will.  This will lessen his dependency on me, and I’m overjoyed and sad at the same time.

Juliet corrected me last night when I said that two books had the same “writer.”  She said “author.” Technically we were both correct, but her word was definitely better. She is loving the Junie B. Jones books. I’m so excited to have found something that engages her attention.  It’s funny, she picks up on reading easier than Ben, but she doesn’t have the passion for books that he does.  I do believe that it will come with time.  I think where Ben finds enchantment in leaving his world to visit another, Juliet may find intrigue in the writing styles of different authors as examples of how she can tell her own stories.

LEAVE IT!

  I had an interview today and sadly became the worst version of myself right in the beginning of it.  I don't know what happened.  One of my biggest pet peeves is when I meet someone for the first time and they are completely fake.  They're way too nice considering they don't know me at all, they smile at everything I say and they make idle chit chat and joking comments that aren't even funny.  Argh!  I just want to throw a punch and see who they really are.  My husband handles it extremely well.  He just turns into a sailor and starts cussing left and right.  He likes to test people's chest factor.  Are they chesty enough to puff up and ask you to stop?  Most of the time they're not and I enjoy pretending not to notice.  The problem is the eagerness to please.  If they asked him to stop, I'm willing to guess that he'd say no.  You see, that way they would lose their eagerness to please him because there would be something about him they don't like. Cha-ching!  But today I was sucked in!  And looking back, I didn't stand a chance, really.  I walked into that cute little building and expected to be asked what I was doing there or be met with just a modicum of opposition, but I was greeted with a warm and genuine smile.  Uh-oh.  I liked this receptionist.  No biggy, she's not doing the interview.  I asked for the bathroom, was directed to it rather chirpily and as I walked down the hall I passed a person who I wasn't even looking at and they said, "hi" and smiled.  Then I bumped into someone coming out of the bathroom and they smiled and giggled and excused themselves.  Everyone was being so nice! I loved it. But you see, my eagerness to please them was building.  I peed and reminded myself that the person doing the interview was very businesslike.  It would be advisable to focus on the task at hand.  I tried to run over the questions likely to be asked.  I haven't been on an interview for NINE YEARS mind you. So, I put on my game face and walked back to the desk.  I let them know who I was there to see and the boss lady, just so happened to be walking past and stopped to shake my hand, smile, introduce herself and give me three options of where to sit and wait for her return.  I felt it.  I liked her too.  Now, I wanted to seem PERFECT!!  AND I'M NOT PERFECT!!  So then I started thinking about all my faults and all the things that I should maybe cover up if the conversation turns personal.  <BIG SIGH> I like myself.  I really do.  There isn't one thing that I would change even if I could but her smile was contagious and every time she smiled I wanted to smile too even when I had no idea what I was smiling at.  I fidgeted when I talked and my vocabulary blanked out on me.  I sounded like a twenty-something cocktail waitress, "like, oh my god, right? No worries!"

  Alas, all is not lost.  I didn't act as maniacal as my neighbors dog who, I'm convinced, loves to hear the phrase "LEAVE IT."  And I'm sure the interviewer did not feel like the "it" a dog has to "leave."  I did manage to redeem myself halfway through and I learned a valuable lesson.  Next time someone acts fake, it's probably because they have some pretty crazy traits too! Or at least I can amuse myself by guessing what they are.

No Brainer!

  I felt like such a fool about a year ago.  I was sitting on my cousin's porch and we were swapping advice on how to make a household run smoothly.  The subject turned to finance and my family was virtually debt free.  I say, "virtually" because we had the obvious mortgage and car payment, but we didn't have any credit card or hospital bills or anything like that.  I was telling her about how we had tons of debt when we first got married and how I figured out a system for paying it off.  What was this system?  She wanted to know. So I started to explain what we did and she burst in talking about some guy named Dave Ramsey.  (now would be a good time to mention that I haven't watched television, by choice, for nearly six years) I don't watch television, so my answer was, "Dave who?" and she proceeded to explain to me about the pyramid of payoff (putting the larger debts at the bottom, smaller at the top and as they get paid off, letting the money trickle down to the larger ones and so on).  I actually felt my cheeks get hot.  I made that system up for our budget back in 1999, the year we were married and moved to Germany, DIRT POOR.  Now I am not saying that old Dave stole anything from me, but I am saying this fella' sure as shit stole something from everyone else. And I was a tad jealous - only because this dude is RICH!  He got rich teaching these dimwitted people what they could have figured out on their own if they had just tried.  I even said, "He actually teaches how to do this?  Isn't it, sort of, common sense."  My cousin admitted that "yeah! It is common sense but maybe sometimes you just need someone to tell you.  You just need to hear it."  PSH!  Well, I just want everyone out their to know, that I've figured out a great many of these common sense - no brainers and for a small donation I would be willing to tell any one of you about them whenever you decide you "just need to hear it." Oh, but this pyramid business I'll give away for free!!!

I think I'll go ahead and write a book called, "Twelve Steps to Becoming a Peaceful Nation" (Spoiler alert! Step 12 is "don't go to war").  Then I'll publish, "If you don't like being fat, try eating less." Oh man, I should just by my house in the Hamptons now!

Get a Life --->

  I swear I live in a city where people learn how to drive in arcades with pockets full of tokens.  I find myself wondering if they believe that simply cutting in front of a car will really make it disappear.  So, of course, I am bamboozled every day when I come to an intersection that has arrows painted on the pavement giving every lane their own turning options.  Miraculously, no one ever breaks the arrow rules!! The lane that continues on through the light but has ONLY a left turn arrow painted on it, never sees a car simply plunge forward to the continued lane on the other side.  I've never even seen a car mistakenly go straight in that lane.  They all turn left!!  Really people?  Arrows???  Is it that simple? I wonder what else could be accomplished if only we painted some arrows to get the job done.  Life for instance.

  Why, in this world, are we so obsessed with age?  People are living longer and longer every year and yet so many people won't divulge their age when asked.  I am 32.  I don't feel a day over 21 except that I am much more experienced and knowledgable about things.  And every now and then when I run for ten minutes straight, I wonder if I should take a nap in my front seat before attempting to drive home... for the safety of everyone involved.  But, I don't lie to myself and pretend that having perky boobs or fewer memories is going to make me more likable.  People who think that, are already so lonely that they'll do anything to make friends and it's easier to get an operation than grow a personality.  So, why does this number thing matter?  Why are people so afraid of slowing down?  Getting droopy?  I never thought this would be the topic for my journal entry, but SHIT MAN, every time I talk to someone my age they discuss childhood like it's an ancient memory.  They refer to themselves as "old" and how freakin' SAD is that?  The only time I refer to myself as old is when I'm explaining to my children why I get to cuss, drink coffee, have a beer or eat a whole piece of pie.  It's a good thing you see. That's why we call it GROWING old. And yet all I see are people fighting it.  It is as inevitable as death and yet we are running scared.  Maybe we just need some arrows.

---> Personality this way.  ---> Don't fight it. ---> Have fun.  ----> Grow old.  --->Buy ointment!
 GO!

F#^*ing D!ck

Dear Friends,

  While you were gone, your cats behaved extremely well... the first day.  On day two, however, they protested their undying devotion to us by, in true cat manner, sticking their butts in our faces, incanting evil spells at us with their eyes and completely ignoring our desires to pet them.  The conversation below was recorded right in your very living room.

Tabby: Hey!  Watch me make this sweet jump from the window to the mantle!

I: No!  Tabby?!  Don't do it!

Tabby:  Huh?  What?  Were you talking?  Well, anyway watch this jump.  I'm so awesome.

I: Tabby!!  GET DOWN!

Tabby:  (jumping, irritatedly to the floor)  Fucking Dick.

As you can see, your felines obviously hold us in their highest regard and for this we apologize.  It was not our intention to become their favorites.  We tried to be as annoying as possible to them, but they saw through it all and now, it seems, we are quite fond of each other.

Your Friends (but mostly theirs),
The F#^*ing D!cks

Nut Juice Update: Works Well With Grandma's BALLS!

Today I am exhausted.  If I were in the back of a dump truck full of gravel going 80 down the highway MAYBE then, and only then, would I have trouble dozing off... maybe.  If I weren't learning so much about writing by doing this silly thing, it would be the first to go from my daily routine.  But alas, I'm enjoying the crap out of it and, despite my fatigue, I have more information concerning soap nuts.

 So my grandmother, when she was alive, made these amazing little balls out of nylon netting and called them scrubballs.  Oh Grandma, if only you knew how well you fuel my fire. These Scrubballs are used for washing dishes primarily but there is a laundry list of wonderful things you can do with these gems before pitching them into the trash. I wear them down unrelentingly at the kitchen sink, then scrub the bathroom or some other filth before I toss them.  Before she passed away, long before, not on her death bed, she passed the skill onto me.  That's right! I am the proud maker of balls!!

 Now, my kids have these fun little markers that write on windows.  They write on anything glass I would imagine, but the kids' favorite spot is our huge picture window in the front room.  Our house, being built in the fifties, actually has many big windows that the children have blessed with their artwork.  The marks are easy enough to get off with some sort of spray and a rag but when those little monsters and their friend decided to decorate the front window for Easter a MONTH EARLY, how could I possible clean it off until after the holiday?  The result was a window in need of some major scrubbing.  It's a good thing that I am always in possession of a great set of balls.  I grabbed my nut juice and an old edition scrubball and it actually sudsed up my window!  I was wiping off a lot of red marker so before I new it there were pink suds all over the window and dripping onto the floor.  No biggy, everything it touches is better for it. My window is immaculate once again.  I find it's best to use a rag to spread the spray around, then a paper towel to go the the streak free shine... but that's only in highly soiled areas, of course.

 <AND> Add this to your list of jee-whizzes.  I mopped all my floors, added some vinegar and cleaned my windows and I even cleaned a paint brush with it!!!  Look, I'm not saying Soap nuts work on everything... I'm just saying that everything I've tried has worked!  So, if any of you greener-beings out there have given Soap Nuts a whirl and you know of anything that hasn't work or you want to add to my list of things that have.... SHARE DAMN IT!

Pressure to Perform

 For a while, I've been trying to become a jogger.  I say "for a while" but really it's only been about two months. I jogged a little right after high school and then the military ruined it by making us run appalling amounts with little training.... and I'm lazy.  So, I'm trying again.  I do what I call a wogging program.  Any woggers in the house?!  Say "HELL YEAH!" Wogging is pretty fantastic because you jog a little, walk a little, jog a little, walk... you get the picture.  The idea is to slowly bridge the gap between the jogs and cut out walking all together.  Today, for the first time, I bridged a major gap and jogged for 10 minutes straight!!  I actually kept looking at the clock because I couldn't believe the time that was on it.  It was like a practical joke.  Now, despite my fear of tomorrow and the pressure to perform again, I'm on cloud NINE!  You would think I'd be puttin' on those rose colored glasses.  But no.  I feel amazing while everyone else pretty much registers as complete morons!  My family excluded. Well, most of them. The news of the day is that Bin Laden has been killed. (Actually it was the "breaking news" a few days ago.  I write my blogs ahead of time.  I'm a FREAK! OK? Moving on.)  As much as I despise joining the rest of the mindless and making a comment about it, I want to say just ONE thing.  This is something that I don't think is going to be said enough and I want to put my portion of it out into the abyss.  Nobody reads this damn thing anyway.  No matter how the Republicans spin it or what toddler retort the Democrats give, the bottom line is that Obama was the one who gave the order to kill.  He was president and he made the presidential decision. Obama did it, Obama did it, Obama did it!  Not you, not Palin and not Joe the Plumber and Republicans are just going to have to pour that into a glass with ice.  But hey! Don't forget the straw because your gonna have to SUCK IT!

Leprechaun on LSD

When I go just two days with out working out, I get pissed at the world (low on endorphins).  But once I put in a little gym time, I can feel my antagonistic self melt away.  Something however that did not leave with the other garbage today was an article I saw on The Huffington Post.  The title of the article talked about Michelle Obama "switching it up" (or something to that effect) at the White House Correspondence Dinner. When I clicked on the article I was extremely disappointed to find a slide show of the First Lady's outfit for the evening.  Silly me.  I thought, just maybe, the press would be all over something she SAID.  The dress was pretty.  They all are.  It would take a socially retarded person to hold that type of position, knowing damn well that cameras will be involved and NOT wear something nice.  Do we really need to keep our standards this low for women?? My four year old dresses like a leprechaun on LSD sometimes, but she says some pretty damn profound things.  The other night we were all four playing Parcheesi when it became evident that the youngest, Juliet, was sending everyone back to the beginning.  She was vicious and we pointed it out with light hearted jabs.  At one point my husband said, "Man!  Juliet is out to win it!" to which my darling girl responded by pointing to each person in turn and saying, "Oh yeah? Well, you are trying to win, you are trying to win and you are trying to win.  And I'm trying to REALLY WIN!" at which point she placed her little angelic hand on my arm and gave me a rather jarring Elaine-esque shove!  I'm not making this up.  I realized how silly we were all being pretending that we weren't trying to win.  Why roll the dice at all, if you don't care about moving forward??  Juliet was perhaps the only one playing by the rules and I have no idea what she was wearing.  REPORT THAT HUFF!  Let me give you a title, "FOUR-YEAR-OLD GIRLS HAVE BRAINS.  DO YOU?"  Perhaps after her insightful little proclamation I could have said, "Juliet you are so amazingly astute.  May we ask?  Who are you wearing?!"  And she would no doubt respond, "Mo-om, we can't wear people!"  And, once again, she would be absolutely correct.

She's wearing a pink shirt and
can count to 100 upon request.

I was tired of being on my knees.

We planted flowers in the front of our house.  I mean, we seriously filled our retaining walls with flowers which probably marks this year as the first time that our house has not looked like a condemned drug house in the ghetto.  Half way through planting I was getting tired and couldn't help noticing that there was a constant presence near me.  He is 6 and has amazing, blonde, curly hair.  I asked him, if he would like to try planting some flowers and he was absolutely up for the challenge... or lack there of.  I couldn't believe how like a pro he wielded that tiny shovel and scooped fresh topsoil around the flowers just as I had done. Ben has always been an amazing little worker, but that doesn't keep me from being impressed regularly.  Needless to say, he finished up and even made sure we had flowers around our lamp post and tree. It was so refreshing to have the job of gopher for a change.  Maybe he'll let me take orders from him more often.

today, i was flipped off by a cyclist.

Twice a day I have to exit from the right lane of an interstate highway to the left lane of a state highway.  The speed limit goes from 60 to 50 and after a tight turn you go under the interstate highway and get about 100 feet to merge before you WILL SMACK INTO A CONCRETE WALL!  I witness people having tremendous trouble with this everyday.  Some people risk their rear-end by stopping all together until traffic is clear on the state hwy.  The people doing 60 do not appreciate this.  I don't like having to make the decision between getting rear-ended, merging blindly into 50mph traffic and a CONCRETE WALL!  I assume that in these situations it's every woman for themselves.  So, if I see an opening I take it!  There is no law saying that you have to merge slowly (the opposite advice was given in Drivers Ed. in fact).  Today, in this treacherous traffic situation, I was behind a van going 40 and in front of a line of cars that wanted to merge too.  Seeing that there was a sizable break in the 50mph traffic, I whipped around the van, to the right lane and accelerated to 50 so as not to impede traffic for the mergers behind me.  Apparently, however, when I flew like a bat out of hell from behind a van I scared the bejeezles out of a cyclist on the right shoulder.  I have a feeling he didn't see me (nor did I him) before I came around the van.  He admittedly scared me too, but I immediately saw that he was well into the shoulder and well, I'm sure I felt a touch less vulnerable inside my metal machine.  Sorry dude, but a girl's gotta merge.  So, he flipped me off.  And it was me and only me.   I know because he stood the hell up on his bicycle and leaned forward to do it.  I don't think he simply wanted to show everyone his boo boo.  And you know what?  I felt really bad for about a half an hour until I realized that he's wasn't flipping me off.  He was flipping the city off (I just happened to be their representative today) for not giving him a safe and accessible lane to get him where he needs to go.  And you know what bicycle dude?  I flip the city off for that too!  In fact, I'm flipping the city and myself off right now, on your behalf.  You're welcome.