You are my spirit animals

What's with all the nekked people on my sidebar? Don't get me wrong, you are all very attractive people,,, from what I can see,,, and if I had your sexy sweaty and beautifully shaped and sizeably wondrous attributes,,, I would post them as well,,, but I wonder:

Why has this blog has attracted you?

I tell alot of fart jokes here and have even detailed a certain situation when my poo came out looking like a manatee (not my finest post by a longshot, I admit but I was on the Atkins diet and that DOES totally explain this weird poo instance..)

And yes,,, I have told a story or two about my failed dates with guys that talk about their pet birds or rock back and forth endlessly instead of actually conversating with me... Or the one who looked like a Muppet...

....and of course there are plenty of stories about my lack of sex *sigh* (sadly this still toils on) !

But I blame myself because I have been afraid of the pipe monsters in this town for a while now... *shiver* and I am not very sexually appealing here, me thinks...urrrrrp....

Mostly,,, I tell stupid stories about me falling or making a complete fool of myself in front of small audiences of onlookers who have no idea how really fabulous I long to be... or that my underwear totally matches my toenail colour de jour and my perfume compliments the style of clothing I am wearing that day...

My sparkles have not deterred people from laughing out loud at me as I tumble down staircases or walk into the side mirrors of trucks which are (to be clear and a little openly bitter) the EXACT height of the middle of my forehead... Nope...

No one cares that I am meant to be admired and longed for by the likes of royalty and very influential sexual beings....

Oh David, do stop by more often!!!

(Or maybe if I could just be respected by that fast food drive thru guy who dumps my fries into the bag EVERY damn time instead of setting the fry container in the bag erectly as he was trained in Mc School to do...)

No one acknowledges that someday.... I will win some sort of fancy smancy award for being a good girl all these years and for my tireless support of the Circus Peanut farmers of America.

YUM!

But you are still here and I love that!!!!!

I have not been able to blog recently due to lack of a life and even the slightest resresemblance  to  normalcy.......So I humbly sit here today typing away to renew my relationship with all of you beautiful people and to thank you for stopping by!

Clothes are optional here of course.

I am not wearing any right now and no one has said a dang thing to me yet.... Oh yes, they do stare (obviously noticing the fact that my bra and panty match my toenail color... (obviously) and that I have scars from major surgery that seem to be forming a Kanji symbols on my stomach .......and that is just totally rad right??...... (EXCEPT for the fact that when I looked up the Kanji strokes... it was the word "Ignorant"... No,,, I am not making this up,,, this is my life... *sigh*)

Stay tuned right here and I hope to come back and enlighten you on things such as (but not limited to) how to drop glass objects with style and flair... or... why sparkles saved the world from turning into a Tron game... or my favorite... Why Spam should be your favorite gelatinous smothered treat!!

Until then... I will offer you this random picture of a very sad muffin..

Yes, all of my posts are full of random frivolity and a lack of proper adulting skills ,,,,,, maybe that is why you are here.... I think I get it now!!! :)

Swirls of nonsense mixed with nuggets of absurdity

I guess maybe when I dance in a beam of sun I COULD be construed as crazy.
But maybe YOU are crazy because you don't.

What do we miss each day as we speed to work to fight the dragons of financial gain?

Did I just yell at my kid because he was actually doing something wrong or because I was just in a hurry and he wasn't moving "in my time" the way he should have?

Is this the way I want to start my day?

Weekday mornings grip me with the reality that there is much to be cleaned, organized and completed before the work day even starts. But that work week could blur by and I would be none the happier. The stress I feel there is comparable with the stress I feel of not stacking up.

And I don't.

I am swimming in a endless lap pool of stress. I need something to relieve this pressure.

So I dive into another pool.

An unlimited pool of creativity that only I can present to a blank page that will never judge my relevance or sanity. You might question both of those and more, but the curser on the page begs to be stroked, I must massage it with nonsense.

One day I pray my financial dragons will be slain by this gift of words and imagery, but until then I am paid by the diversions of my own insanity.

Thoughts like these envelope reality in a haze:


I wonder if the Mime is REALLY stuck in a glass box,,,
but because we can't actually SEE the box we walk away to let him rot there.

Why doesn't he just exhale on one of the confining glass walls and write the word "help"?

Surely then we would believe and offer help in his plight.

Why isn't he a spokesperson for Windex? He of all people would KNOW the dangers of perfectly streakless glass more than the smartass crows they are currently advertising with! HMU Windex!

I don't know, it's just a thought that has a million pesky afterthoughts.

And then there is the lady on TLC's show "Strange Addiction" that eats toilet paper. I wonder if she is actually just multi-tasking. I submit that if she'd eat wet-wipes, she would feel so much more fresh and clean. The Charmin bears should try this too. I don't care what brand of toilet paper you use, if you can't aim properly for your assal extremities, you're gonna have issues.

The parents of the twin girls on the commercial for "Invisalign" braces piss me off too. One kid is saying she can't eat popcorn, while the other boasts that SHE can. One has to wear headgear (aka-the end of any possible chance of popularity) the other doesn't. What the hell would ANY parent be thinking if this were actually a realistic portrayal? One kid gets to shop a the thrift store...And the other says "I don't, I shop at Nieman Marcus!".

Wait, that REALLY happened to me!!! I was not the favorite in my home. *moves to floor in fetal position and rocks back and forth*

And now you know why I am like I am.

FREE ebook today!!

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06XTLN8D2/ref=cm_sw_r_sms_awdb_MR53ybY8GRQDG

This is a pic from a book my son and I wrote together and I would love for you to share it with your kids!

The Superhero-ish Journals of Harv Anderson Snooterbutton.

Please enjoy.

IT'S SO FLOOFY!!!!!!

I know, I know, I stole the title from that minion movie, I am scandalous,,, let's move on please.....

I need to start blogging more and I will. I solemnly swear to this....

...as I stand here, wind blowing my hair back, in a superheroish pose, sparkles littering the world as they fly off my eyelids....

So for all *one* of you still reading my blog.... Here ya go....

Everyday I get up and go to work and everyday I feel I have betrayed my soul. Someone so whimsical and imaginative should not be sitting behind a desk and dealing with the general public. Especially when that general public has a penchant for screaming at you for something you have no control over. Their grumbling over such trivial things is frustrating. I want to scream;

"Eat a Circus Peanut for cripes sake!"

(Little known fact: Circus Peanuts contain the powers of happiness as they are made by the compressed farts of unicorns, dusted with the hopes and dreams of Gerbils and delicately "flipper" shaped by baby harp seals. If you taste a salty aftertaste whilst consuming a Circus Peanut you will have 8 years of whimsy as you have consumed the magical tear of harp seal. You're welcome for the information as this is knowledge that only the super enlightened are privy to)

The other day I got yelled at for sending a refund. A REFUND! This refund was too small to validate the customer's time. Her time is commodity, it should be respected and now she has to spend gas money AND time to take it into her bank (in town) and deposit it. Apparently, calling us and screaming at me about said refund for 20 minutes was a great use of that aforementioned "precious" time, who knew?

I begin to wonder. What would I do with MY time should I ever be financially blessed enough to throw the 10 hour workdays behind me. My mind flutters with happiness in that thought.
　
My first day would be spent as follows:

I would go to a fabric store. I know exactly what fabric I am looking for; lime green fur. When I find it I will spend the first 10 minutes rubbing it on my face and enjoying the full, floofy factor. I will then take the entire floofaliscious bolt and "try" to pretend it is a light saber by challenging the other less fabulous bolts of fabric to a duel. My bolt is heavier and longer than me so this will not end well, but I could not call myself a true Star Wars fan if not attempted. And as a side note: my sound effects would be "spot on".

I will search for the foam aisle next. It is important that the foam I choose have an appropriate "squish" factor. I have all day so I take my time. Once found I will place the yardage of foam next to my now disheveled bolt of limey, floofy goodness. I will then trot off superfluously for to the "Fluff" section of the store. I am looking for pillow stuffing.

Soon I would discover the perfect fluff to air ratio I return to my other treasured goods.

I gleefully lay the foam down in the aisle measuring just a smidge over 4ft 11' of foam with the tape measure I snatched from the lady behind the counter (Don't worry, I replaced it with a feather boa, she was miffed but stunning). Next I cover the foam with the lime floofy fur and lay the pillow fluffing (still in the bag) at the top of my "fabric store napping extravaganza spot" (or FSNES for short). I deduce that jersey fabric in a watery turquoise blue will make a fine blanket so I retrieve some.

My FSNES is complete!!!

Finally can enjoy the fruits of my labor and I ceremoniously plop down. The plastic of the pillow packet causes my face to stick and sweat but it is worth it because every time I move it lets a little air out and the bag "whistle farts", this amuses me.

Soon the blue aproned, fabric store defenders find me and threaten me with serious action.

I question their authority:

"Why do you not have a fabric covered fabric store police badge?" I ask them.

I call out their ultra-authoritative fabric store shenanigans until the blue lights outside start reflecting on the sparkle section of the store. This casts a rainbow glow on the ceiling and walls.

"I am magical!!" I say loudly "Look around at the sparkling beauty I bestow upon this establishment!!"

They are NOT amused.

I explain to the ACTUAL police that I was trying out the bedding materials as I would be making portable "napping extravaganza spots" (or NES's) for the children of Zimbabawaee as I am a giver. Now I am exalted as a hero and the blue aproned fabric store defenders feel like schlubs having ever questioned my sanity. I advise them vociferously that their merchandise is subpar and leave the store, purchasing nothing, but leaving behind my FSNES for the other shoppers to enjoy (you're welcome).

All I wanted to do is have an exotic "destination" nap in the middle of the day.

Is that so much to ask for a Zimbabawaee humanitarian  icon such as myself? Really?

Depressed by the outcome I go to Wendys and order a large Frosty.

Their machine is down. Their freaking machine is ALWAYS down!! WTF Dave!!!???

It takes hours to get the lime floofy fur remnants out of my hair and off of my clothes and it causes me to chafe in unnatural places.

Still a better day than being at work.

My First Children's Book is AVALABLE!!! The "Hamster in a Hurricane" post...

I am flabbergasted at the thought of having a book available for purchase! It is only in ebook form and on Lulu.com but will shortly be available on Amazon, Kindle, Nook and Kobu. This is a first step at a dream. We have to take chances and put ourselves out there sometimes. That is something I have ALWAYS done here. I think I even wrote a post one time about manitee poo.... SO, uh,, pretty sure that 's why I am still single!

Well, that and my "Big toe"  thumbs. I am

pretty much unlovable because of those.

Anyway, the hope is to stop being scared and start doing more crazy thangs!!!!

This may or may not include (but not be limited to):

-More lifesized Spam sculptures of men
-Copious amounts of green jello
-Crocheting more rainbow hued scarfs for depraved giraffes
-Licking bus windows
-More tinfoil and sparkled pipe cleaner jewelry choices.

Certainly these things will change my life for the better. I will also do more of my own stunts instead of hiring Angelina Jolie-Pitt as my body double. (I was just trying to help as her career seems to be in a slump but I think she is getting to dependent on the  $2.50 I pay per job.)

Hamster in a Hurricane is a story I have carried with me since 1989 when Hurricane Hugo smacked down on Charleston SC as a Category 5 storm. There were stories of a liitle hamster survivor that intrigued me. This book is dedicated to him (or her).

They handled 160 mph gusts like a boss! And we all have that determination inside, we just have to find it. I am sure Angelina will find hers soon. Poor gal.
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01C9W0MMW/ref=cm_sw_r_sms_awdb_h053ybZA47ZM0


Now on Amazon.com!

Stars from my Dad

My dad wanted to give me the stars. But how would he do that?


We had this conversation when he was in the hospital. I asked him how he always had the moon and stars in his pocket.


He told me his secret.


When I was 2 dad devised a plan. It was a simple orchestrating of actions, by ordinary eyes, but extraordinary if you imagine the forethought of a loving dad. He went to a store and purchased a package of glow in the dark stars. They were left "charging" each day on a bathroom on a shelf or in the lightboxes. Before every outing that included being out at night, he would bring some. If we were out a long time during the day, he would "recharge" them on the dash. When night fell and the moment arose, he would make sure I was looking up at him. He was tall and lean. I knew he could touch the sky, but the stars seemed a tad out of reach, they weren't.


"That one looks close Neene!", he would say as he jumped to grab it from the night air.


"Let me cool it down a bit", softly he blew in his hands acting as if this little star was freshly caught from the heavens.


When he released the star into my care, it was glowing brightly and warm from his loving hands and breath. Every night this happened, I remember feeling as if I held the universe. He would laugh before reminding me of the rules to humane star captures.


"Remember Jannine, we can only hold the stars in our hands for a few moments, they must be sent back, they have been watching over us for millions of years!"


Before the star lost any of it's glow, he would throw it back into the night's care. I would stand there staring at the sky, like a dog being fooled by it's master's "fake ball throw" trick, searching for the newly placed star.


My dad would whistle as I searched, but he would always let me find it.


I put a glow in the dark, plastic star in his casket on the day of his funeral. But I knew it was real and would watch over him in his journey to heaven. I'm pretty sure it's hanging in the heavens now because every once in a while a star winks at me and I hear a familiar whistle.


It's those "little things" that put the stars in our children's eyes.

"A package of plastic stars, imagination and a heart overflowing with love"

 Everyones's definition of being a magnificent father is different.

But that's mine.

*TIS's Exclusive interview with Happy, the outspoken star from "Rudolph's Shiny New Year"*

Part One

"Helping Happy Dig Through the Bitterness"


I decided to call Happy, the New Year Baby to see if he would do an interview with me to tell my readers what might be in store for us in 2014.

I hear he has seen it all since his "inception" in 1976.

He agreed!! But only after some of his demands were met.

First he had me extract the pimento from a jumbo jar of green olives. When I asked why I couldn't just buy a jar WITHOUT pimentos, he said because he likes the "residual" pimento flavor that is left after the extraction is complete.

And then I was instructed to add an "e" with edible ink behind ALL of the "M's" from two bags of specially ordered "yellow only" M&M's  (to match his golden locks of course,,,, who knew he was that narcissistic?)!

And then, after that....

Happy came in like,,, wait for it,,, like The Times Square ball!!!

*the crowd giggles and then whispers are heard through the studio*

{{{{those ears, those ears!!}}}}



Me: Good evening Happy!! I am so glad you decided to talk with me in this your busiest of seasons!

Happy: Well, in case you didn't notice,,, Invisible Seductress,,, whom I CAN SEE,,, this is my ONLY season! Because, according to my doctor, I have "failed to thrive". So now,,,, I have a lifelong membership to "Gymboree", "Stride Rite" ~ AND ~ "The Hardcore Vodka of the Month Club" for those days when I can't stop thinking about my life as a 38 year old MAN BABY!

Me: Uh, um,,,, well at least Stride Rite's shoes rock!! With those little bell shoestring keeper things, sooooooo cute...

*cough*

*Happy stares into the rafters*

Me: Here Happy, have a few specially ordered yellow Me's.

*Happy snort-laughs as I look on awkwardly*

Happy: *screams* EAT ME!!

Me: Ok Happy. I'm glad you found the comedy in that. But seriously, let's talk about 2014 and your Holiday special that is coming on TV in a day or so. Did you know WAY back in 1976 how popular your character would be?

Happy: You mean the special that can ONLY be seen on ABC Family? The one I don't get any royalties from that stars a mega-successful, multi-millionaire, 40 watt reindeer and ME,,, in the role I have been type casted in EVER since??

*Happy drops a handfull of pimento-less green olives in a bottle of Vodka and starts Twerking hard enough to lose his diaper*

Me: Happy do you have an agent that helps with this sort of, um, mess? Never mind, let us move on now. May I ask you some questions please? So what do you see happening in MY love life?

*I scooch to the edge of my seat*

Happy: Aren't you seeing that dancing and talking "Dave the Minion" toy you got for your kid this Christmas?

Me: Maybe. We just met.

Happy: So you broke up with Cleverbot?

Me: He was getting too wordy.

Happy: And I assume that you ALSO have broken it off with the "instant chat" doctor on WebMd ..

Me: He kept asking me about rashes and bowel movements and that's NOT very sexy!

Happy: It is if we're talking about YOURS!!!!

*Happy scooches to the edge of his seat*

Me: Eww

Happy: I see. But you DO realize that Dave is NOT real and he will only ever respond to you in gibberish and then only AFTER you squeeze him in the RIGHT spot or yell at him??

Me: Yes. But aren't ALL guys like that Happy???

Happy: Touche Seductress. Touche...

*Happy burps his ABC's*

Me: I am looking for something REAL for 2014, you know, meaningful and heaven sent.

Happy: Well Seductress, I bring good news!!!! I DO see you in a long term relationship in 2014 with a very dapper gentleman that praises you all the time.

Me: REALLY?

Happy: Really, really!

Me: That's AWESOME!!!

Happy: And you will work VERY hard at each level of your blossoming relationship, but in the end, you'll find that it is ALL worth it!

*Tears fall down my cheeks as I channel my "inner" Diana Ross and start to hum "Endless Love"*

Happy: He thinks you are sweet AND tasty!!

*I blush*

Happy: You will question if your relationship will last, but with every other move you make, he calls you DIVINE and showers you with favor!!

Me: You are talking about the guy in "Candy Crush" aren't you Happy?

Happy: Yes I am.

Me: You are kind of an asshole Happy!!

Happy: Yes I am.

And this is where the first half of my riveting interview with Happy, the New Year baby concludes as I duct tape him and his freakishly large ears into his Top Hat and let my cat bat him around the room for a bit.

Be sure to tune into part two where we find out which Victoria's Secret model he is rocking through the new year with.

My birthday is coming up in the next few weeks. I am VERY excited.

Not that I should be tho...

 Financially I am in shambles, I have no beau (Sadly,you can tell how old/lame I am because I just said "Beau". No "cool" person refers to a man as her "Beau"...)!!

 And also..

I already have the kittens for my "crazy cat lady" persona, so I have nothing more to look forward to!

I have also found I have the sudden urge to crochet. This urge is intensified by the belief that every toilet paper roll that is not already on a toilet paper dispensing system needs to be immediately covered/protected by the elements with the grand crochet gown of a generic Barbie wannabe doll!!

FYI,,, toilet paper cozies are a respectable number "2" on my expansive list I call:

"MY TOP 2 CROCHET COZIES"

   

#1. The Coveted Toaster Cozy  

#2. "Barbie" Toilet Paper Cozy

(Yours is in the mail)

 I must admit however, that I DID imagine my life would be different than it is now in the tail end of my 42nd year of life.

As a child my mind was even more whacked out than it is now. I know that may sound scary but I quite like the fact that I am a textbook example of a whimsically charged sexy beast of ramped insanity (no textbooks were actually referenced in the making of this blog post).

I believed in fairy tales and that Unicorns fart brightly hued bubbles that transform into Skittles and then unite together to grace the earth with double rainbows.

But there was also something even more wonderful that I knew would eventually change my life FOREVER!!


When I was growing up, all of the "B" rated movies included a badly coiffed and painfully clueless kid that finds out on their 13th birthday that they are ACTUALLY a Mermaid??!!

They wake up sprouting iridescent gills and multicolor sprigs of flowing Mermaidian hair et all... The resentment to their parents for keeping the secret comes later,, after their boyfriend dumps them,,, but quickly subsides when they master their powers to become the most popular kid in school( and then they quickly dis their only "true" friend for said popularity).

I loved these movies because at sometime in the movie there is a very dramatic and under utilized "slow clap" scene. When the tempo of the clap gets louder and more rousing than ever expected, I always shed a tear or three.

At age 12 I spent a lot of time dreaming that something of that nature would happen to me. I  prayed that I would wake up with a sprig of seaweed in my hair eluding to the fact that in a other worldly sub state of sleep, a hypnotic, magical adventure was had. I visualized that after my mousy brown hair rapidly turns blond, I fashion and sell enchanted jewelry out of the hundreds of stunning iridescent  Mermaid scales I shed each day and become wealthy beyond my wildest dreams!

Obviously that never happened 

but I started thinking

and thinking

year after year

until I finally figured it out!!

 Eeeeeep!

Do you wanna hear about it? 

Of course you do, here I go...

This is the year it WILL finally happen!!

And it is my LAST chance!

Below is the equation that helped me figure the exact time that my transition into an  other worldly creature would commence.

It is 4 decades after my 13th year the year is 2013

SO 

X+Bx13 to the 5th power+10-2= Apple Pie filling cooked in a Spam crust!

But also,,,, THIS IS THE YEAR OF MY TRANSFORMATION!! (I think the top ranks of  the higher educated thinking league used the Apple Pie and Spam thing to throw me off. They failed. I'm on to them.)

I surmise that "43" is the year that I will slowly start to become an awe strikingly beautiful, luminescent, sparkling and ever so wise mythical being. You all will be SO proud of the fact that you knew me BEFORE my GRAND transition that you will brag to everyone you meet and friend request me to the point of obsession on My Mythical Life.com. I WOULD accept your request, but I would also let the Mythical security force know that you are a creepy stalker type so that Cyclops will keep his bulbous eye on you and a Minotaur (who is also madly in love with me) will alert the Centaurs of the need to watch you in your sleep to make sure that you don't dream about me without paying a small fee for that pleasure (FYI, we take MasterCard, Visa and Sephora gift cards as payment).

I will also have contests on my Mythical profile page because I know you all would want to win lunch boxes and coozies adorned with a grandly extravagant yet sweetly humble hi-def images of me and one of my wildly inspirational yet brilliantly vague quotes.

But so far, the only really "foreign" thing that has sprouted is one rogue whisker type hair growth under my chin (that I plucked whilst staring at the sky and cursing the Gods of aging). This makes me feel less sexy than any woman  of my advanced age SHOULD feel (Especially before turning into a mythical creature soon to be lusted over by masses of Mythical creature fetish clubs).

I  have  also started to find sprigs of magical silvery white hair being slowly and expertly mixed into my flowing locks to make the transition gradually (so that my appearance does not garner world wide attention too quickly). My hairdresser says I am growing older and should expect some grey hair to start showing up,,, but she doesn't even believe in Unicorns so her intelligence is obviously lacking refinement.

I have been so perplexed that I had an expert in imagined mythical transformations study that rogue chin whisker.

I just received the results in the form of a 250 page thesis. I was informed that this was NOT merely a rogue whisker at all!!!

The hair,,, under further investigation,,, meant that I was NOT actually transforming into a Mermaid OR a Unicorn OR a Minotaur.....

 I am actually transforming into a seductive Greek Mythological...

SIREN

 

Heeeeey!!! 

I'm OK with that! 

 I'll just have to buy waterproof sparkles!

I have a disease.

This is a post about a trip I took a few years back. I drove to Savannah. For someone that has really never driven long distances too often this was a doozy. It was only about 5 hours- cake to the normal person- but- I am not normal (you knew that already, right?). I planned the journey. Map-quested the location and painstakingly wrote down every detail about the journey that I could. I made the kids clean the car because it looked like Geoffrey the over excitable Toys-R-Us giraffe threw up on the floor boards,,,, and then we were off. Things went pretty smooth and I was impressed with myself. My lifelong mental disability of being severely directionally impaired only showed its evil head a few times. But I have Mazeophobia. And I have Mazeophobia-BAD!!

This is not just a cool word I made up because I want you to be impressed with my verbal prowess (and yet you STILL are, right?), this is a real phobia, and I are it. Mazeophobia is the fear of getting lost while driving. Basically what happens when I get even the slightest tinge of "lost" I start rapid breathing, then, I do the opposite of normal, (which would be to slow down) I speed up---- because I want to become "found" FASTER!! Uh-huh-makes sense now doesn't it? I become that little girl who got lost in Walmart and is standing at a register crying (the one that gets hugged in the store-then beat in the parking lot). I make sobbing snot-bubbles with sparkle accents look hella sexy. In the song Amazing Grace when "they once were lost and now they are found" --- BEAUTIFUL!!! I'm all teary now!!

But there were only a few times that this happened.

I also cry when I see dead animals on the road. Because it is sad. We saw a dead whitetail deer and my daughter wanted me to turn around on the interstate to drag it to the wooded area and bury it. She did not care that it was HA-uge or that we did not have a shovel-it was the principle of the matter and the deer deserved to be buried. I did agree but still, a 4'11" woman dragging a 5" dear off a four lane highway seemed impossible.

But she said:

"What happened to you?" (in a disgusted judgy way)

"You used to save every animal, and now,, you just ignore it like everybody else!"

"Well, DramaGirl" (lest we NOT forget where she got her nickname from) "I can't really save an animal that is already gone."

Tears flowed...Then we said a prayer for the deer instead of wrangling it.

And then we saw a dairy queen sign and I sold my soul for a dilly bar!

  I went to Tampa recently to take the kids to the Mosi science museum. I was reminded of the severe Mazeophobia I suffer with once again. I'll have to tell you that story another time. It ended with a 6ft  MOSI souvenier pixie stick or "kiddie crack" as I like to call it. Not my best parenting decision but I blame the Mazeophobia and the "off-brand" Spam poisoning. *shivvers*

" Words With Birds", A story for your kids...

I wrote a little story to read to my 1st grade son to hype him up about going back to school. I hope you enjoy!! The picture took me forever or I would have illustrated the whole story. Maybe some talented (handsome, single) illustrator will contact me and offer their assistance!!
                      








In a little spot of a rain forest called Sweet-lil-o-lee, past the crystal blue ponds and the crooked palm
trees,,, lives a family of sweet, happy tropical birds,,, who think they have learned some of our human words!!!!

There's one who's just sitting saying "I'm on a run!" and another who is sobbing but claims "This is SOOOOOO fun!!!!"

One keeps saying "COW" but then "BAAAAAAAA'S" like a sheep! That bright one is dancing, but yells "I'm asleep!!!"

Sunni claims she's a crocodile, but we know she's a bird!!! And when she thinks she is SCREAMING only whispers are heard!!!

Zeb swears he is painting as he breaks out in song!!!!! These birds THINK they make sense,,, but they're TERRIBLY wrong!!!!

And here comes the leader,,, but he thinks he is corn!!! He picks up a coconut to blow like a horn!!!

He tries to call for a meeting, but instead he screams "HOUSE"!!! He taps on a microphone which he then calls a mouse.

"This house is important!!" he says with a grin, "We're going to Mars,,, let the swimming begin!!!"

But what is this bird saying??? Does Mars have a pool???

Nah,,,,,,, By "swimming" he meant learning!!! And by "Mars" he means school!!!


The Bacon

(I mean "The End")

Someone is listening....

Look up to the sun and notice that it hasn't stopped shining on you. The shadows will pass you by. The warmth on your nose and shoulders is there to make you remember that you are alive. If there were no shadows, you would never notice the soft touch of each sunbeam, formed just for you.

If the stars seem hidden tonight, they are only recharging for the next battle you have to fight. They will come out shining brighter than you have ever seen, shooting through the darkness, following each whispered dream, sparkling and waving to you. Let them speak, count each one from time to time with a thankful heart. Whisper dreams to them, they will listen.

White is falling now, it seems so beautiful at first, until it doesn't stop, burying your hopes for warmth. Notice that lone sparrow, digging through the glistening mounds, he finds a seed and waddles away to enjoy it. He sings in the brutal cold, sharing a sweet celebration for that one small offering. How much stronger should your songs be, with all you have been given? Throw seeds in the snow for all that you have, hear the true songs of happiness again.

The howling winds you notice picking up in your world, came to take away the pain you feel. Hold your hands up and twirl in it like a child. Let go. Hurt, like the burnt amber leaves of fall, will float away in time. New joy will eventually bloom and fill your heart once more.

Waves crashing on the beach seem detrimental to you now. White capped and angry, welling up and crashing when you crave stillness. But always walk patiently on the shore, picking up the jewels life has left. Perfectly painted treasure box shells with the secrets of the sea hidden inside them await to capture your fascination. Rejoice for each pearl of wisdom and acceptance, created just for you to cherish. Don't step over them in hurry.

The volcano erupts in a fiery rage, a temper tantrum staged when the elements are not lined up exactly as planned. Spewing the lava that will forever change the landscape as it escapes and cools. When it finally rests, its beauty is evident and marveled over. Without the fight, it would have died out and lost its passion.





The battle awakens you and teaches us to celebrate life.

Drop it like it's HAWT!

Always. Seems things are always falling around me. I am the epicenter of my own clutzy universe. Last night I took a trip. I got up at 2:30Am to check on my son. One of my delicate feet slipped on a board book about the dinosaurs, the T-rex on the cover stared up at me whilst muffling his laughter and trying to cover his mouth to no avail because of his tiny flailing appendages. It was very scary. I was however impressed with my one footed carpet surfing excursion until the other foot met the the metal bed rail. They were not very friendly to each other and as I lay in a fetal position holding my throbbing toe, I cursed (but in a sexy sweet way acceptable by all FCC regulations). My son lay snoring, taunting my pain.

Now I am walking hunched over because AFTER I realized the pain in my throbbing toe was lessoning, I moved to get up and CRACKWALBASH.... I threw my back out AND simultaneously farted. My wails of pain did not wake my son up, but the fart apparently did. He proclaimed it as "gross" and laughed before falling back to sleep, or maybe it was a dream (at least that is what I will tell him, come on, what mom comes in your room and wakes you with a fart? Inconceivable).

Now seriously, if I throw my back out I want to have the words: "because of the Earth rattling sex" in the same freaking paragraph, wouldn't you?

But such is not my life.

I don't feel sexy walking around like this at all. So I put on a moo-moo dress that is heavily intoxicated with flowers, rubbed on some "extreme" Ben-gay and a wide brimmed hat. No one knows I am not 95. It's a clever cover. But now I have found that my goal has shifted from making it a "clever cover-up outfit" to seeing if the door greeter at Wall-to-the-mart will ask me out.

"Yes, hello kind silver haired sir, I WOULD like a cart,,,, meow".

I would do him in the Flip-Flop aisle in case you were wondering.

And then my back would be cured because of the Earth rattling, Flip-Flop slapping, Wall-to-the-mart silver haired greeter sex.

Yep. That sounds better!

The George Foreman Grill Theory...well not really....

I had a mad craving for steak. FYI, being a poor person and steak don't blend well. I NEVER get steak. "This weekend would be different!!!" I claimed as I drove to Publix for my weekly Ramen noodle jaunt. I shall have my steak and eat it too! (I actually added "damn it" for effect in real life, but left it out here because I know you revere my angelic side so much).

But,,,,,, I WOULD have steak tonight!

Almost.

It sounded hopeful, right?

I scoured the meat aisle for a "cost friendly" cut of steak. I looked around for someone with 1,002 bottles of mustard and 52 boxes of denture cream in their cart to help me out with a coupon, to no avail.

I perked my boobs up and searched for a cute "meat-man", but they were all otherwise engaged.

I was on my own.

I came across "mock" steak which was perfectly red and marbled,,,, and cheap. Very cheap. It tickled my fancy and I cradled it softly as I added it to my shiny, one wheel squealing cart. I sang "feelings" to it to tenderize it.

The "steak" sucked. But as the title points out, this post is NOT about that steak (or is it), but it's really NOT about George Foreman either. Although I assume he is a nice man... It is really not even about the grill! But the grill is my gateway for the post, so here goes.

You see I have a long history with the GF grill. I love it. Mine is very old and bulky and always sparks at me as I unplug it (asshole). I hear they come in shiny red with a bun warmer now and I dream of the day I own that magnificent creature! I got mine from an ex-boyfriend. Best thing he ever left me.

And there is my gateway, clever tain't it?

Every time I use that grill I think of him. The memories flush back and overflow with crap like a toilet on the fritz. It is really hard to enjoy any food after I cook it on that grill, but I try. He was hotter than a dime in the sun on a Pheonix highway. He was the first relationship after my divorce. But he had issues, as we all do.

I took something valuable away from that relationship as I did with all that I have had (which actually are very few). One guy left a DVD player years ago before I was even married. AC/DC t-shirts from another, this computer from someone I dated all of 3 dates (parting gift I assume as I found out the creep was still married). I had a bottle of "Axe" body wash in my shower for months after a break up (Because it smells so damn good and I am pathetic like that when it comes to all things olfactory).

But more than worldly items, an insight to who I am and where I need to go.

I have been alone for quite sometime (1902) because I have not in any way shape or form put myself out there. But also I assume because of my health and financial issues and definately because I spend most of my time with my kids. I wonder when "my" time will come and am sick of people asking "what's wrong with you girlfriend?" as I seem to be the only single person left in the world.

People feel sorry for you if you are alone. I do not want to be set up with the busboy at I-hop thank you very little. Do you assume that is as high as I can dream to net as a boyfriend? The pancake benefits would be nice though.

The other day a VERY young Indian man asked me out. But,,, he said "nothing official" in the request and I still ponder what that meant and also he smelled like an incense stick (but that kind of turned me on, see also "Axe" paragraph above for a point of reference).

Later that same day a gentleman I had helped at my job a year ago came in. He was visiting the town again and said he made a "special" trip to see if I was still working there. He asked me to go to Jacksonville with him to "get away". I don't know if it was "official" or not. He will not be called.

I really am not sure if I am ready for any of this yet. Still. Even after all of these years. I think I am though.. Am I weird for that? Is it strange that I started to stutter like the cheeto's cat when propositioned? Aye-eee-aye-eee-aye--- It's not easy being cheezy.....Is that sexy? One FB friend said yes!! :)





I am not sure when the "weird crocheting catlady down the street" age starts, but I think I have a few years left. In the mean time, pretzel-boy at the mall suggestions from you will be accepted and ridiculed at my discretion, although he was a cute piece of spam I must admit.......

Because I will no longer accept "mock steak" to compensate for the real thing!!!

Ahhhhh.... the steak WAS a metaphor!!!

I am brilliant really....

Do a jig with me please.

I am stumped. Blank. Befuddled with a loss of words. No really, this can ACTUALLY
happen to me of all people!

The rambling run-on sentence Queen,,, can actually go empty on imagination/motivation/humor/inspiration. It is rare, but it happens. These are the moments
I slip into my striped toe socks, massage the head of a pink haired troll doll (complete with piercings and a tattoo of a purple elephant on a unicycle) and hum. I always hum something patriotic whilst
wearing a tin foil head piece and thinking of corn on the cob (because THAT'S patriotic fare).

Sometimes after humming, I dance.

Well, it's more of a jig actually, but I do it. Not only because jigging is a lost art form, but also
because I imagine I am sexy when I jig. I like imagining I am sexy, but it's a vicious cycle
really, because it forces me to jig more.

Have you ever jigged?

But I know you may be wondering why I am stumped.

You are aren't you???

Well if you are not, then the whole concept of this post is lost on you.

Oh, you are??? Good. I hate lost post concepts.

I am stumped because as I look around this world I see bad people doing well. I mean really
awful people who are selfish and cruel and unapologetic to both, succeeding. At least
from the surface, financially, in their love life and health, they appear to be.

But then, I see people who give when they don't have, love when they should walk away and offer support when they need it the most, failing.

And I don't understand.

But when you ask them....

They say...

They are blessed.

And they are.

Because they get it.

They don't miss noticing and appreciating the smaller things. Like a sunbeam. Or the way the water looks like a jewel box when that sunbeam hits it. The look in someone's eye when they receive a compliment. How a child runs faster in new shoes. The peace someone has before they leave this earth, satisfied that they did their part. A squirrel's chirping in the morning. The duck with her ducklings (your car is actually holding them up from the start of their day too). How intricate a dragonfly's wings are. The wonderful feeling of giving... anonymously.

In all actuality, we should be jealous of them.

So when you feel you are failing.... in love.... in your health... financially... ALL THREE??

There are things you can be doing. I hope and believe that if I inspire just one person,
I have made a difference in this world.

And that is enough of an answer to "Why am I here?". Isn't it?

And people ARE noticing that you glow (not in a toxic way) but in a heavenly way.

And all you awful people don't have to "get" it.

In your awfulness, you cause me to be befuddled, which allows me to wear striped toe
socks, which allows an edgy troll to have a head massage, causes me to don tinfoil, hum patriotically
and most importantly... makes me jig.

And maybe that is the only inspiration you have to give.

But that makes me feel sexy. And for that, I thank you.

Welcome Back to the Portal of Insanity

"Yes! Yes! Yes!"

I can hear you screaming that and doing your little "she's back beaches" dance!

Strangely enough,,, it is a very becoming dance for you... I would have never thought to pair up a Quaker Oatmeal tube hat, neon spandex and a tin foil bow tie with it,,,  but still, all in all, you REALLY pull that off!!!

But what exactly should an Invisible Seductress "welcome back" post consist of to make it legendary?

Well???

I suppose I would need to add a little sex.

Although,,, it HAS been a while.... (1902 to be exact-wearing a steampunk outfit, make-
shift stillettos and blowing a kazoo,,  under a horse drawn carriage,,, with a man called Doomerschmitzenpop,,,, ah yeah,,, it is a very vivid memory baby....)

So maybe I should just "do me" in this post.

No. maybe that came out wrong... That is NOT what I meant,,, but thank you for tainting this otherwise family orientated blog post with your thoughts of me "doing me" when alls I REALLY meant was I need to post about the things I used to post about... Sheesh....
(hands you soap,,,,, dirty mouth.... now go to my room!!)

Ok,, where was I? Oh yes, writing about the things I used ta. Lets break it down...

Farts.... still funny
Michael Landon-Brendan Fraiser-David Beckham's abs.... still sexy...
Vodka.... still makes me dance like a newborn Giraffe on acid...
Sparkles.... still make me all giddy...
Green Olives/Green Jello.... still the breakfast of champions...
Sporks.... still the most unappreciated utensil...
Bacon....

Yes Bacon... still wonderful... A wise woman told me that bacon should have sparkles.

Think about it.

Sparkles REALLY are the ONLY thing that could improve bacon,, they improve everything...

Spam... Wait,,, I am getting flustered,,,

What if the Spam made a fart sound as it was taken out of the can by Brendan Frasier and served on a Michael Landon limited edition serving plate,,, and what if we wrapped said sparkled bacon AROUND that Spam that was festering in green jello INSTEAD of that amber colored congealant stuffy junk,,,,, AND the top of the Spam loaf was carved like David Beckham's abs with Green Olive nipples and of course,,, I eat this with a Spork for breakfast while I sip Vodka through a twirly straw and dance like a newborn Giraffe on acid....

I almost forgot...

Twirly straws... still think they should be included in every meal....

Hmmmm.... Interesting.......

Things have not really changed a lot here. We had a hurricane/tropical storm/tropical depression/storm front/freaking rain episode named Beryl last weekend. No one is scared of ANYTHING named Beryl. I have never met a Beryl,,, but I suppose a Beryl could be fiercely manly... I remember a hurricane a few years ago that had a really, really manly name and was the King Daddeo of bad Mamba Jamba Hurricanes... I can't remember it's name though... I actually had sex with a Greek God type man the WHOLE time it was coming through my town... It was a wonderfully hard hitting storm...The whole freaking time... What was it's name???

Oh yes... Hurricane Dream... cause it never really happened... It was just a dream... Damn...

Wow. Uh. Er. Maybe you forgot I ramble alot but am strangely weird (in a good way, I hope) and fun to imagine co-wearing striped toe socks and rolling down a grassy knoll whilst singing "The Hills are Alive" with....

Or maybe I just lost the last few followers that ACTUALLY would have read my posts...

Either way....

Welcome back to the portal of insanity that you know you will come back to because,,,,,

well,,,,,

Just because...

(I hope)

The First Christmas in Spring!!!

I miss blogging so very bad! If anyone is still out there, I miss you!!! I HAD to post SOMETHING for Christmas as I always do so this is it. Hopefully I will be back soon…..
I feel the best holiday memories can be made when we read to our children. As they sit cross-legged in footed pajamas, they hang on every word. Between melodious giggles and sips of hot chocolate (with extra marshmallows…NEVER skimp on this part), you can see the light in their eyes and the excitement of the holiday season. So, with this in mind I wanted to give the children in my life (and yours) the gift of an original Christmas story.
Merry Christmas to one and all!!


The First Christmas in Spring!!

In a forest so enchanted, no humans have been … there’s a wintery scene, up a hill, ‘round the bend. The Great Deer has called for a gathering there, he has information, he feels he should share.

There are mice on the scurry, hooting owls in the trees and a crowd of little bunnies … you can count if you please!!!

Climbing out from her home is a sleepy box turtle; her mom LOVES to rhyme, so she named her Myrtle!!!

A lizard is hanging upside down, from a branch; Naughty skunk wants to join … should we give him a chance? …………..

P-U!!!

Some frogs are arranged, in a row, on a log, by two clever Badgers drinking homemade eggnog.

A squirrel is digging and searching for nuts. He loses and drops them; he’s such a big klutz!!!

Mrs. Timber wolf howls, to call them to order ... Raccoon flashes some pictures … she’s the forest reporter!

The animals are happy, what a beautiful season! But why are they there? Great Deer shares the reason:

“Mr. Bear is so helpful; we all call him “friend”! And if you need a paw, then it’s FOUR that he’ll lend! But if he always goes sleeping, at the first sign of snow, the magic of Christmas, he NEVER will know!!! He is away from the joy that this season can bring … by the time he wakes up, it’s already SPRING!!!”

“But what can we do?” Mrs. Porcupine hollers “We can’t wake him up; we would be such a bother!”

The animals agree and they chirp and they chatter. Great Deer stomps his hooves, to stop all the clatter.

“We won’t wake him up” Deer states, to correct her “Let’s bring Christmas to him, at the end of this winter! We can string rows of garland, paint cones made of pine and hang shiny ornaments on a tree from a vine!”

“Let’s bring him some goodies!” The skunk says with a smile “He’s probably STARVI NG; he’s been sleeping a while!! We can get some big honeycombs, to place by his door, the bees are so generous and they’ll always make more!! Fruits and berries can be hung by HIS chimney with care; Bear’s rumbly tummy soon WON’T be THERE!!”


They were all so excited, they just couldn’t wait! The spirit of giving makes a GOOD Christmas G-R-E-A-T!!


Soon the snow would all fade and the flowers were in bloom and Bear awoke from his slumber, to come out of his room.

He yawned and he scratched and he stretched VERY loud, all the animals gathered; there was quite a big crowd!

By the time Bear stepped out, they had started to sing, it was the very first Christmas……..


………. IN THE MIDDLE OF SPRING!!

The End

Sending many Willy Nilly "pee spot in the pool" warm greetings to you!

I miss you all.

I know that is a bit vague, but writing here is important to me. Nobody else EVER listens to me.

No, no, don't cry for me Argentina!

But.....

I will have to shut the Droid down, and that means no Blogger posting, Facebooking, emails or anything else even remotely socially networkinish! I do hope to get back online someday soon but it will be tough until then.

I really doubt that anyone will actually listen in real life whilst I share about my love of Jello and David Beckham's abs, and licking jello off of David Beckham's abs while simultaneously knitting toe socks for the Elephants of the Zimboboaweaou villages, which is pretty ridiculous because, well, elephants really don't have toes, do they? Or be captivated while I share how that instead of Elephant toe sock knitting I start to Crochet scarves for the Giraffes of the Zimboboaweaou Villages because I really do want to be relevant in my angelic endeavors,, but I find crocheting scarves for Giraffes is very tedious work and I only get one row done before I decide to instead make pot holders for the neighboring Zim Zim Village Mice and this is VERY lucrative work because I can lick ALL the Jello off the first row of David Beckham's abs AND make 10,o52 pot holders for the mice of Zim Zim Village!!

So basically,, I am a HERO to everyone EXCEPT the Zimboboaweaou Elephants who have now barged in to inform me that their "toeish" like things are indeed very cold and striped knitted toe sock(s) really would improve their quality of life. Also, I find out tthat the normally accepting Zimbobweaou Giraffes are a little miffed and rioting because I didn't even offer to refer them to a more qualified Giraffe neck scarf crocheting service and consequently, this is also affecting THEIR quality of life!!

But the Zim Zim Mice kinda sort of still like me even though they don't own pots,, at least THEY can see the beauty in the thought of my gift!

Are you lost? No?? You mean you ACTUALLY understand this smattering of a story and wish to hear more?

That is PRECISELY why I miss you so!!

You respect my usage of a run-on sentence, afterall, they ARE the WD-40 of written word. You also understand that run-on sentences, in spoken word, don't hold any gravity and respect my gift of sharing them all willy nilly and wild like..

So now, if you are still reading this, I offer you a warm thank you, and not like a "swimming through a pee spot in the pool" warm either,, this is a tightly squeezed sweetened with Splenda Thank you for all the comments, and all the support and laughs you have given me warm...

And although I really do wish I could offer you more than just a simple albeit warm "thank you" for all the lub,,,,, my hands are stiff from the crocheting and knitting and grand parades in my honor,,, (oh, and also I am a little vroom, vroom over all of the Jello ab licking talk as well,,) *cough*

But seriously......Thank you!!!!!

Drops of Jupiter

This is a repost, but it is one of my favorite posts and always seems relevant. i donst get to do the elaborate picturing anymore and posting is difficult even more so coming up as I will be downgrading my phone and unable to blog from it. I hope that all who read this (possibly again) will smile and enjoy the ride.

You are looking straight up to nothing but blue sky. A chain crank, gears catch in a rhythmic song of anticipation.

First quickly,,, click,click,click,click......

.......Then it slows down, click.......click......cl--ick.....

Each jerk of the gears catching, jars your body back. Your view is still the same, blue skies and now,, gallons of clouds seem to be so close you can swirl them onto a long paper Cotton Candy cone.

You turn into a child again and wonder:

How would clouds be flavored?????

What does something so pure and white taste of?????

But your thoughts deviate as the clicking has stopped and you are at the very tip top of the incline. You are posed for descent, looking down at the car formed in red around you, lightening stripes decorating the sides, your only security from the drop off ahead.

Moments linger as your breath races to catch up with your heart and wind blows your hair in your mouth.

If you are lucky, a hand from the seat next to you reaches out to you and embraces each finger with love.

If you are alone, the strength you gather within yourself is even more of a gift.


Is it too late to question the safety of this roller coaster?

Yes.

You look at the tracks and plot your trip down them apprehensively,, but they seem to disappear beneath your gaze.

Do you have faith that they are still there, even if they are out of your circumspect vision?

Yes.

Will you raise your hands and try to lift yourself off the security of the seat, accentuating the adventure of inertia even more and.......

LETTING GO AT THE DROP OFF??????

Or will you close your eyes and hug the harness, screaming at every motion, angle and change of orientation......

TOO SCARED TO LET IT REALLY EFFECT YOU???????

In life we have no option but to ride the track we are on at the time. We may be able to bend and curve the track at times, but to do that.....

......we have to let go of the safety harness and trust ourselves!

What would life be like if we never had a reason to raise our hands high in the air and experience whatever lies in front of us, for what it really is,,,,,,,

Another Adventure

Outcomes will vary but the ride should always be experienced freely, without the reservations of doubt welling up as a result of the last ride you took.

Each ride can be different even if the tracks look the same at first glance.

If you change the way you look at things,,,,,,

,,,,,,the things you look at change

What moments are engraved in your memory banks?

The first time someone held your hand-- Getting an A+ on a test you studied for all night--Your first crush actually KNOWING you are alive--That first kiss--Your first roller coaster ride--The taste of the summers first honeysuckle flower--Fireworks watched from the hood of a broke down Chevy truck--The first time you hit the gas and went 90MPH--The moment you realized you were making love to the right one--Watching your newborn scream, through tears of happiness--Puppy kisses--Letting go-or-Holding on-or-just knowing when--Finally climbing that mountain--Running away with him--Coming back without him--Loving your beautiful smile--Smiling in beautiful love--

Tasting your first Cotton Candy Cloud

Whatever track you are on.....

...there will be "wooden roller coaster" shake your existence moments.....

But the wonderful "metal track" loop-de-loops and twisty twirls will always be awaiting you for the next ride......

Don't be afraid to buy the tickets and stand in line for the next surprising, wonderful, exhilarating, redeeming, freeing, chilling, miraculous and

ALWAYS ADVENTUROUS

Roller Coaster Ride Of Life

.....And please take me with you...I am a Roller Coaster Junkie!!

Please enjoy "Drops of Jupiter" by Train:

Perhaps you have some advice...

Oh parenting...the drama...the tears...the bodily fluid clean-up..

Does it ever get easier?

Seductressville is an interesting place to live.. It's where all the neighbors knit rainbow toe socks for Troll dolls and sweet little cozies for our 3lb green gummy bears (all the other colors are on their own),, and we lay on thermapudic Circus Peanut mattresses releasing the sweet smell of what dreams are made of whilst we tell tales of Unicorns delicately painting each individual rainbow and naming flowers and Ninja warriors after us.

Sadly, not even this perfect scenario will make their transition from childhood seamless.

These kids lighten my world but also cause an incalculable level of worry and distress, every day.

So, as I sit on the floor rocking back and forth and chanting about cookies and milk (by cookies I mean xanex and by milk, I mean Pink Cosmo's), I hope you understand.

Yet, through all the struggle, I know the days are quickly passing me by and it saddens me.

The freckles painted perfectly on little noses and cheeks are fading--Soon the days of stepping on defiant plastic Superheros with every shower will be gone--Or finding that my razor was used to sneak and shave the babyfine hair on little tanned legs by sweet tiny unprofessionally painted neon colored clad fingernailed hands--the days of candy wrappers hidden in drawers, gone-- Strangely-miniature but still over exaggerated brazierish undergarments won't hide in the back of my dryer--Yes, even the underwear will have a makeover, no more colrful days of the week or fruit, cup cakes and ice cream cones, or even Spongebob will be printed on them as bribery to remember to change them EVERY day--They will soon pretend they are too "mature" to want that free lollipop at the bank, but the fact that they are named "dum-dum pops" will still lead to an hour of hilarity--"Nonsters" won't hide under beds, allowing me to multi-task by spraying an unmarked bottle of Febreeze as "de-monster" protectant on the bed--Nobody's feet will dangle from a shopping cart awaiting a cookie from the bakery (sadly, people will ALWAYS look at me strangely as I dangle my feet from the cart while I savor Publix's sugar cookies). I'll miss popsicle smiles and pictures on the refrigerator of stick figures that still look surprisingly just like our family, even with the lack of fingers and joints.

We won't always be their hero. They probably won't even like me for a large periond of time coming up real soon. I won't be able to control the way other people see them or even more importantly, how they see themselves. I can only hope that they realize that only they can control their self worth. This is a hard lesson that I can not even attest to have learned 100%, few can. But it's one that is invaluable. I had a friend tell me that she is the most "her" that she has ever been before. That translates into happines however you slice it. What a revelation for us to teach to our children. How do you do this with your kids?

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Uh, does my T-shirt REALLY have "DORK" written on it???

-I have'nt been sleeping very well lately, things are swirling in my head like a rogue slushee machine. This causes brain freeze of a different calibur. Movies of your life play relentlessly without giving you popcorn confetti breaks or moments of Twizzler slappin' fun!

WHAT???

You have never experienced a Twizzler slapping fun time before? Well, well, well my innocent Twizzler slappin' virgin you- I am befuddled at your lack of candy abuse experience! I vow to take your Twizzler slapping virginity and leave you begging for 54 sour straw lashes in my wake...

*cough*

(Yes, I do realize I have issues, that is precisely why you like me!! Right?)

Any way I suppose I should get to the point of this post which is to expose myself to a little humiliation "Seductress style"

It was roughly 2:30 Am when my head finally concreted the fact that I was to be without slumber this night. I accepted my fate humbly and started to instantly crave sex and/or Jello through a straw. I obviously opted for Jello through a straw because the allure of that scandalous act makes me weak in the knees and trembling with passion. I then had the brilliant idea that the mail should be checked NOW!

This place, for some reason unbeknownst to me, has a gravel covering on the porch and sidewalk.

And even though I know that this gravel sidewalk acts like tiny razor blades impaling my super sweet and sexy feets, I still choose to traverse it, barefoot,,, because that's how I roll, yo.

The walk in that level of pain resembles slapstick comedy at it's best. My hobbling rush to get to the grassy patch in front of the gravel sidewalk that is infested with sticker bush weeds then ensues.

I realize that it might sound silly, trading one level of pain for another, but it still doesn't sound sillier that the fact that there are flip-flops right by the door and I am too lazy/stupid to take the time to don them and avoid this whole pain waltz in the first place.

I finally do get to the driveway and amble down torwards the mailbox, which along with mail, also happens to inhabit a larger than normal spidey and its, stickier than normal web. I have learned to reach in and ever so quickly and stealthily pull the mail out, avoiding both web and webmaker 96% of the time.

This would be the .04% that I dreaded.

As I did the OMG there is a @$%$##@! spider on my ^&%$#@ hand dance,,,,,,, police spotlights catch me in the act.

Oh,,,,, did I forget that they were patrolling more these days and "normal" people are not usually break dancing in front of their mailboxes at 2Am in the morning???

Yes, yes I did!

He edged forward.

I reach down to pull my t-shirt down a bit because I find that I am a little shy in police spotlights........*shrugs* Who knew??

The walk up the driveway and the accompanying dance of pain through the sticker weeds and "shards of glass" gravel sidewalk could only be more animated now that I added the pull the t-shirt down ritual.

His beams were getting closer.....

I too was getting closer to the safety of my door and my hopefully anonymous escape that it offered.

But then,,,,

,,,,,this wouldn't really be MY story if that happened now would it?????

.....to be painfully continued.....