I Heart Samantha Bee

From the Daily Show. Of course.

Where Oh Where Did the Time Go?

Anna & George--school play, first grade

Anna & George--Graduation Day


You Know How..

having one beautiful baby...

can make you long for another?

When Does School Start?

Things my children have said today:

Lo: Last night I dreamed that Dad and I were supposed to go to White Water, but he took me to get a haircut first. Then we decided to get me one of those things that takes at least 45 minutes--

TR: A deep conditioning treatment?

Lo: Yeah. And by the time it was finished, White Water was closed.

Georgia: I was halfway down the lap lane at the pool this morning, and I forgot how to swim. True story.

Jack: Isn't it June? Why haven't you changed your calendar?


Daisy Didn't Get to Go Camping

Saturday Things You Might Not Have Known

The world's oldest condom, dating back to 1640, has gone on display at a museum in Austria. The reusable condom dates back to 1640 and is completely intact, as is its orginal users' manual, written in Latin. The manual suggests that users immerse the condom in warm milk prior to its use to avoid diseases.


Everything is About to Change

George graduates tomorrow. Sadie moves to Costa Rica in August.

(Art by Deryn Mentock)


Hey Thanks!

George came in while I was unloading the dishwasher this afternoon and started laughing. She wanted to know if I 'wore that to work' and made me go look in the mirror.

No one said a word all day.

Driving n Crying

Radio spots are generally so lame, it's almost dangerous for me to drive while listening to them (I know you're raising the bar, Howard). Most of the time, they're grammatically incorrect, adding insult to injury. Jewelry commercials are the worst offenders. (Tom Shane is NOT my friend.) Those should be illegal, because they require three eyerolls and both hands in the air, an accident waiting to happen.

But I really liked "Put some Lance in your pants." It tickled me. It put a little smile on my face. And now they've gone and changed campaigns, offering "Six little crackers for on-the-go-snackers."

I hate that word--snackers.


There's More

As if that weren't enough fun for one weekend, Biggy and Lo camped out in the front yard Saturday night.

Quality Time

For various reasons, most having to do with a new toy Mom bought for Lo, by the time I left for my hair appointment (at a hip Marietta salon) Saturday afternoon, the whole family had ended up at Mamoo's. Naturally, after I got my bright copper sheen, I headed to Paulding County too. On the way, George called to get my ETA, because she can't stand for us to be apart:

George: Hurry up.

TR: I'm coming. It took longer because Francis had to set some blue hair and trim a guy's comb-over. What's everybody doing?

George: Granny's taking a nap, Mamoo's boiling eggs, Greg's putting the trampoline together, Lola's playing in the box, Jack's sitting in the wheelchair, and the dogs are barking at the neighbors.


Saturday Things You Might Not Have Known

Introducing my new weekly feature.

Did you know this about Jennifer Aniston?


Holy Cow

Job 1:21 (King James Version)
Naked [with opera gloves] came I out of my mother's womb, and naked [with operal gloves] shall I return thither: the LORD gave [me my g-string], and the LORD hath taken away; blessed be the name of the LORD.

In case you can't read Britney's message:
"The reason for this letter is to let everyone know that their prayers have truly helped me. I am so blessed that you care enough about me to be concerned and will continue to live in this brighter state with all of you by my side during this trying time. We are all lights of the world and we all need to continuously inspire others and look to the higher power. You are all in my prayers. Godspeed. Love, Britney"

What I want to know is why she cropped out her higher power.


Let's Hear It For Mom

I know you're wondering what I did THIS time--to reaffirm my position in the hierarchy of motherhood. Could it have been the fact that we found this in a pile of papers on our dresser TODAY?

Or maybe because poor little Lo had to do the whole project in about an hour tonight, once we'd found a shoe box and hit Michael's for supplies?

Was it because neither her father nor I knew jaxit about komodo dragons (or that she'd been studying them "over the past several weeks") and had to do some quick research on which to base our heated argument over how pointy to make the nose?

Naw. More likely, it's the fact that I let Lo showcase graphically the feeding habits of these giant reptiles.

I'll look forward to a call from school tomorrow.

Update, 9:12 a.m.

(Phone rings.)

George: I need you to verify that I have a stomachache and that I have permission to leave.

TR: Let me see if I can find the Pepto Bismol. Liquid, of course.

George: Just tell the lady.

(Shuffling sounds)

Office Lady: Mrs. B___?

TR: Uh, no. But I am Georgia's mom.

Office Lady: Will you be picking her up?

TR: She has her car.

Office Lady: So, it's all right for her to drive?

TR: Sure. I mean, if she feels up to it.

Office Lady: Okay then. (As she's hanging up) Next?

10 Days 'Til Graduation

Georgia: Can I describe for you what's going to happen at school today?

TR: Do I really have a choice?

George: First period: We're taking a "test" (she uses air quotes each time the punctuation occurs). Only, Ms. J won't call it a "test" because she's not really allowed to give us a "test" this late in the semester. So she's counting it as four "quiz" grades, thanks. Second period: We'll be WATCHING The Importance of Being Earnest, because Ms. M needs to get one more "book" in this year, and we don't have time to actually read it. This is the same teacher who cut out 3/4 of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein because, in her opinion, it has too many details, and then spent that "saved" time talking about her Pekingese. I'd have rather read the entire book twice while someone pulled my hair...Third period: Newspaper. We'll continue the debate over whether to use serial commas. Fourth: We get to listen to an old balding fat man tell us how to exercise. I'm leaving early.

TR: What are you going to do when they say you can't graduate because you have too many absences.

George: I only have like 45.


Biggy Has Big Plans

to turn this:

into this:

Once her fracture healed, Lo re-joined her team, the Bullpups, who went on to finish the season undefeated, 20-0. My husband has his heart set on a scholarship.

See Jane

My Georgia and I went to see Georgia Rule this weekend. My expectations for the film were extremely low, but I have to say it was sweet. As we were leaving the theatre, George said, "Jane's pretty hot." This from a girl who's never seen Barbarella.


Sometimes I Wish I Could Scrub My Brain Clean

Not infrequently, I use Google Images for work or for my blog, stealing the pictures so there-for-the-taking. I guess it serves me right, then, when I get something I didn't bargain for--since I'm not actually bargaining at all, expecting something for nothing. Still, I don't think it's fair that I can be happily googling along, entering "catbox cake," "wrapping paper," or "mobile home" and end up being subjected to images the likes of which I never could have imagined.

Misery loves company, my dear companions.


On Gifts and Such

I was a real bitch at Christmas this year. Looking back on it, it's a wonder Biggy would ever try to give me anything again. And I AM sorry. But maybe the problem was he'd set such a high standard for gift-giving in the past, always choosing the perfect item, the most wanted, personal, thoughtful thing...that his misses this past Yuletide season resounded like gunshot off a canyon wall.

First, there was the black COAT, which I tossed--still in the box--to the floor. He'd slyly asked about coats while we were shopping, picking up a sleeve here and there, to ask, "What do you think about this one?" I'd told him every time and in no uncertain terms that a coat was the last thing in the world I needed or wanted. I have a closet full of Sadie and Georgia hand-me-downs, thrift store fake furs, and my special Newport-News-catalog-order black fony pony that I keep for dress occasions. That he hates all of these is no concern of mine. And if he wants to buy me one he likes, it should come out of his own allowance and not take away from the gift budget allotted for me.

Then there was the framed photograph of the two of us after hiking Panther Creek, which should have been sweet, touching, romantic even. Except that it was an awful picture of me--with bad hair and a Blair-Witch expression, and he had wet pits to his knees. It was not something I'd choose to display on my desk at work or hang at home, and I knew the reason he liked it was because his guns showed. At first, I thought it was a joke--that there was gonna be a new puppy hidden under the tissue. I couldn't even pretend away my confusion and disappointment.

Mamoo and Granny were concerned by my reaction when I unwrapped it; you could feel the tension in the room. Until I passed the frame to them, at which point they broke into hysterics.

My people understand. They "get it" so well that for my birthday this past March, Mom and Granny gave me THIS (below) in a nice frame. It tickles me every time I look at it, thinking about how the discussion must have gone beforehand re hairstyles and accessories.


I'd Like to Thank the Members of the Academy

Collin, who is certainly worth arguing with, bestowed upon me a coveted Thinking Blogger Award, for which I’m greatly honored. God knows Collin reads many a'blog and judging by his many a'links I had some stiff competition. Now, I’m to spread the love by choosing five worthy blogs of my own, a duty I take as seriously as blogging itself. You who receive this award are charged with the same task, and you’re asked to proudly display the Thinking Blogger tag and be sure to make a nod to her whats did the choosing. Those are the really rules. I didn’t make them up. Now for my 'Five Blogs That Make Me Think':

1. Debbie Millman, for her smarts, her variety of subjects, her honesty, and for always asking the right questions.

2. Howard, for being One of The Few Good Men (Men Who Think) and for keeping us current on all the good music.

3. Jennifer, for being so audaciously shocking and intelligent. She’s got to work on her frequency of posts, but I’m allowing for her recent health issues.

4. Grayson, for staying on top of all things political so I don’t have to and for exercising so many different media.

5. Dave, because there IS no greater thinker. And because when he becomes a bajillionaire, he'll still be a sweet boy.

Next Song To Learn on My Guitar


If Men Were From Mars, Wouldn't They Be Smarter?

Biggy and Garey left to go "off-roading" around noon yesterday, in two separate cars. My husband took Jack and his friend Tyler in the beloved FJ, so Jack could practice driving (!) and Garey let Lo ride in his prized Land Rover. (Gare, I'd like a report on the car-ride conversation, by the way.) Georgia kindly begged out to study for an AP Government test, but I didn't even feel the need to make up an excuse not to go. I DO NOT SEE THE POINT. Around 7:30, I began to worry a little and called to get their ETA:

TR: Y'all ok?

Biggy: Yeah. We're not sure about Garey's car, though. He dented the side, bent up the luggage rack, and his transmission is acting funny. We hope it makes it home.

TR: Maybe you should call a tow truck?

Biggy: Nah. Right now we're looking for a place to eat Bar-B-Q. We're just going to let it cool off and see what happens.



I call this 'Sunday Stella.'

Dietary Update

So I told you back in April that I'd agreed to try a vegan diet with George, not for any reasons of health or conscience but mainly because she asked me to and I'm afraid of her.

We stuck to it for two weeks, as was the initial plan. Then she went away for the weekend--to her father's, where she couldn't pass up his salmon (I have to say, the man can cook). And while she was gone, I went with Lo and Biggy to Wild Wings, where the only vegetarian item on the menu, nachos, was not--needless to say--made with soy cheese. I ate the cheddar, and it was good. This led to a dairy binge of eggs and smoked gouda for breakfast the next morning.

Since, we have both continued putting soy milk on our cereal and in our coffee, and I have yet to eat a bite of flesh. For some reason, I just can't bring myself to do it. No Publix fried chicken, no Ted's bison burgers (Their veggie burger is quite tasty), no Tuna Helper. Strange. 19 years off, 6 years on, and I'm off again.

But I've figured out why I was such a bad vegetarian before--why the hair loss and split nails, why the muscle aches and fatigue. Eventually I get lazy--too lazy to open a can of beans or boil a bag of rice.

See the picture I posted? A carton of Paradise. No meat/no sugar. I had two cups for dinner last night and two more for lunch today.

I can already feel the roots of my hair shriveling up.



Lo: I really want an iPod.

TR: You're too young for an iPod. You might lose it.

Lo: That's nonsense.


To Borrow From Amy Winehouse, What Kind of Fuckery is This?

I don’t watch much TV these days—what with Lo’s softball, my guitar lessons, making turtle costumes, and cooking gourmet meals. But I still watch Grey’s Anatomy, still look forward to—and plan my entire week around—being in my bed in front of the television at 9 p.m. on Thursday night.

This means figuring out my exercise schedule, the best day to use the crockpot, how much time to set aside to practice Free Bird, and how to make sure Lo is sufficiently exhausted by Thursday evening that she’ll fall asleep by 8:45. I also have to remember to drop a couple of subtle comments about the hole in the kitchen ceiling so Biggy won’t dare mention the fact we have no milk or clean towels as I crawl under the covers.

So you can imagine how excited I was yesterday about the special two-hour episode. I’d hear the commercials for it on the radio as I sat in traffic, and before I knew it I was forgiving the Blue-tooth-wearing asshole in the Hummer for cutting me off. Or suddenly, I’d lose count of how many people driving maroon Ford Tempos have Mardi Gras beads hanging from their rearview mirror.

Those commercials promised great excitement in the land of McDreamy and McSteamy. Two hours—it was going to be like getting a baked potato AND French fries with my steak!

Last night, with that extra hour’s incentive, I managed to put Lola down, make the three requisite returns to her room--ice water, another kiss, find the Atlanta Braves blanket—and assume the position by 8:45. I even got to see the last scene of The Office.

Well, less than five minutes into Grey’s, another show appears on my screen. Two characters I’ve never seen before are driving in a car in L.A., not Seattle, engaging in dialogue not about Meredith or Izzy or George. What the hell? I think maybe Daisy has stepped on the remote (I could kill her), so I pick it up and start clicking. I’m on the right channel. I wonder if there’s been some mix-up at the station. I wait for them to straighten it out. Then I press 6 again just to be sure.

Next thing I know, Addison appears among these SoCal strangers, and I realize I’m in the right place. Unfortunately. It doesn’t take much longer for me to realize--as they shift occasionally back to Seattle Grace in a totally uncohesive, incoherent manner—that I’ve been HAD. They have lured me here to hold me hostage—that in order to see my Grey’s, I must sit through their new pilot, a cross between Scrubs and Melrose Place, the cross being an insult to both.

To make matters worse, the bones of Grey’s they were tossing me were farcical—Chicago Hope meets the Three Stooges (again, an insult to both), apparently written to jibe with the other show—to no avail.

Disappointment doesn’t begin to describe it.

Friday Nostalgia

Donny--telling me why we couldn't be together. Early 70's.


Our Greatest Fear

Click on the image to see some of the reasons I don't mind helping with Hank's 6 a.m. classes.

Yesterday, we came to that point in the quarter where everyone's exhausted and wondering if they'll ever be successful, if they'll ever "get it," or if they're merely hacks pretending to be designers or writers or photographers. That time in the quarter when they're so afraid, we have to pull out this passage written by Marianne Williamson, which always moves me and serve as a reminder--because we all forget:

***Disclaimer: As they say in AA, think "god of your understanding."

Our deepest fear is not that we are inadequate.

Our deepest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure.

It is our light not our darkness that most frightens us.

We ask ourselves, who am I to be brilliant, gorgeous,
talented and fabulous?

Actually, who are you not to be?

You are a child of God.

Your playing small does not serve the world.

There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other

people won't feel insecure around you.

We were born to make manifest the glory of
God that is within us.

It's not just in some of us; it's in everyone.

And as we let our own light shine,
we unconsciously give other people
permission to do the same.

As we are liberated from our own fear,
Our presence automatically liberates others.

-Marianne Williamson


A Bedtime Story

Lo: I want to tell you something that happened at school today. On the playground.


Lo: Well, A and I were on the balance bean and T was standing by the fence with his back to us, looking like he was up to something. Finally we could see he was peeing. It's not the first time it's happened, either. It happened once in kindergarten. So we told him we saw, and he started crying and begging, "Waa-waaa...I had to g-o-o-o-o reeeeeeeeeeeally b-a-a-a-a-d...(snuffle, snuffle)...Ple-e-e-e-e-ease don't tell on meeeeeeeee. (sniff, snuffle, sniff)."

The PROBLEM is we had a substitute, and she said she couldn't do anything about it.


TR: So you told on him?

Lo: Uh, YEAH!

Speaking of Eating

Hank showed me these at work today, and I thought I should pass them along. Diet or not, they are utterly cool.

About Me

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Writer, teacher, student, mom.

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