25 April 2007

Pollyanna Carpooling

I had an interesting drive this morning. Now with local gas pumps adding the convenient blood plasma donation catheter, it's actually affordable to drive.

On my carpool stint today, I was struck by the sheer number of courtesies extended. One driver was kind enough to try and perform a bumper removal while I was in motion. His thoughtfulness to spare my time by accomplishing this difficult maneuver in traffic was so heart-warming.

I was even compelled to motion that he was number one for a fleeting second. I chickened out, not having employed this gesture of goodwill in years. Needless to say, his tires were to be envied, as he utilized them at full capacity, weaving in and out of traffic with such agility, acceleration, and ease. I think I should check into some like that for my van.



Exhibit #1: This picture above, shows the thoughtfulness abounding even on my way home. What a refreshing change to see drivers stop at a light and leave ample room in front of them. You never know when the driver in front of you may suddenly need to back up a couple hundred feet in your direction. You can never be too careful. This driver just went that extra mile.



Exhibit #2: This mom's vehicle plate exhibits such spirit. I like her "MOMSCAB" proclamation. It shouts, "Hey, Mom just crossed the picket line at the Iron Workers Local 131."

She also could be a Curad Salesperson, but highly unlikely. I feel she is simply proclaiming her consideration to paint her van in yellow and black checkers. How refreshing to see the fuel industry blossoming with overwhelming support. I'm considering a license plate that says, "POS VAN" but I hear it might not fit.




Exhibit #3: This picture above is of a different red minivan with a driver possessing the most splendid resourcefulness. I would have never been so clever to transform my rear view mirror and the center chunk of the windshield into a pink, lush tropical garden.

This driver is so lucky to have x-ray vision to see through the foliage to safely navigate traffic. At her fingertips is the convenience of a half a dozen Hawaiian lei's, two air fresheners and a Jezebel's portion of Marti Gras beads. You never know when you might need a lei. (hey, pipe down in the peanut gallery)

I was also touched by her creativity to make the decor so entirely huge that she'd never have to dust her dash.

That was my drive for the day. Talk about escaping from the norm? I don't believe I could have handled any more goodwill...at least not without my cell phone/camera battery charged.

23 April 2007

Applauding the Supreme Court

I have never been a quiet one about my stance on abortion. I don't feel that anyone with a strong conviction should be quiet to spare getting into a discussion. A conflict, perhaps? But never to avoid someone else's genuine retort. Extremists are a problem in any discussion but I digress.

The Oregonian had two big fat articles regarding last week's Supreme Court decision upholding the ban on partial-birth abortions. I was shocked the paper would actually report both sides, as The Oregonian has never been fair at reporting conservative points of view. After I read both articles, I feel it is ignorant for anyone to ignore what partial-birth abortion is when we are debating this procedure..and further voting on it and ruling on it.

I challenge you to read on the partial birth abortion procedure. It is not for the weak at heart, or stomach. I hope it makes you think.

Feel what you may about abortion, pro-life or pro-choice, this ruling has not taken away a woman's rights, it just eliminates one of at least seven ways you can medically accomplish terminating a pregnancy. It eliminates the described inhumane actions of brutally ending a life. How can we not be applauding the Supreme Court? This ruling is outstanding news.

You may be one who doesn't want to know how it's done. Oh, rise up and educate yourself. Don't think the truth will go away if you don't acknowledge it. People should want to know. If it was any other subject, we would be deemed unpatriotic to not ask how, when or why. Whether it's voting or rulings on the war, oil drilling, assisted death, the environment, military prisons, taxes, the people should want to know. Knowledge is not power. Implementation of knowledge is.

I cried for 10 minutes after reading how this procedure is done. I remember my children, each at birth. I remember their simplest needs of security, warmth, full tummies, swaddled in blankets. Their surprise of something like being unbundled, with tiny arms jerking wide, little fingers grabbing on what they can grasp. It's a stark difference to the cruelty, the sheer sickening horror of this procedure done on an infant who at times, is fully able to live outside the mother. This infant would be only 3 to 4 inches from completely being delivered. If the child was fully delivered, not just a tiny body, but the head as well, it would legally be murder. Three inches makes the law somehow agreeable. This has nothing to do with a woman's right to choose. The new ruling, with incredible discernment by the Supreme Court, intervenes by upholding the ban on these partial-birth abortions.

Partial-birth abortion is abhorrent. It's inhumane. Destroying life at it's weakest, most vulnerable state. It is LIFE. We hold living microbes at the bottom of the sea with more respect and concern. Everyone should understand how this procedure is accomplished to implement our knowledge to make the most sound decisions in women's health care.

22 April 2007

Interview With a Badoozie

1. Your false teeth have just fallen out in the toilet. You can't afford new ones, and you can't live without them. What would you do? Oh, I forgot to mention, its not YOUR toilet, its a porta potty full to the brim with human excrement.
I would buy a blender.


2. If you could have any brand of wheels known to man, which ones would you chose for your windstar van?
Omega Wheels. Then I could sell the wheels and pay off my van. Then I could donate my van for a Van Smash for Charity. 5 bucks for two whacks with a baseball bat.

3. IF you had to attend a self help seminar, what would it be about and why?
Understanding Schizophrenia and Mental Health issues. My mother.

4. What was your all time favorite pair of jeans?
A pair I purchased at the GAP, size 6..long. I was 19 and when I left the incredibly crowded dressing room to look into the mirror, the entire dressing room area, including sales people went silent. I felt lots of eyes on me, I was so embarrassed. The very gay GAP employee said snapping his fingers, "WOW! HONEY, if you don't buy those you are craaazy!" Really. I took his advice. Those were fabulous jeans.

5. How many guys have told you that you were a good kisser?

Badoozer, I should kick your butt for asking this. Mr. Coffee is the only one that counts and that I remember. So the rest...I plead the 5th.

**And no, I am not chicken. Every guy I kissed never once had complaints. I can count it on one hand. Hey, I'm no one to kiss and tell.

20 April 2007

Hairy Situtations

I have a problem.
It's my bathroom.

I know, not the most incredible blogging prose to produce and let you wallow in, to allow you to rest your eyes upon, and waft up your nostrils. I'm talking even more dirty grit..like when hairy bathrooms need to become clean again. Clean bathrooms are important but I have discovered something peculiar.

I am just going to say it. I have very long hair, down past the middle of my back and my bathroom is enduring the gruesome fallout of a rapidly balding head. Hair has kind of....a little...yeah, completely taken over my bathroom.

Birds nests in my sink and hairbrush. Stray hair on my floor. I could have stuffed a mattress by now or made a mullet wig. The good news is that if cloning ever becomes a reality, I'm going to live forever.

The master bath...also knows as Mr. Coffee's bathroom, gets surprisingly filthy on a daily basis. I have to practically cross myself before I step foot in the room, holding garlic and a wooden cross. I use and love Clorox wipes which, have no doubt, was the brain child by a mother of more than one boy.

Speaking of brain child...my van is under attack. I know, lousy segue.

I believe my vehicle has a sign on it that says, "PLEASE bang the crap out of my doors with your doors, because this van can't depreciate fast enough without you." The next inconsiderate bozo, so help me, is getting A Heater Vent Special. Eggs, buttermilk, and one can of tuna might be involved. Right down the windshield air vents.


Putting aside a possible stint of vehicular mischief, I am sore and grumpy. This is plainly the effect of some hairbrained idea that my treadmill is "good exercise". Pffft.

I've been working out, walking on the treadmill, and cycling. I love that I can pop into the community gym at my apartment, ipod blaring with something motivating like Metallica or Van Halen, while two 95lb Backstreet Boys attempt unsuccessfully to impress me with the number of reps they can bench.

I drink bigger cups of coffee than these guys.

Even as I may appear to be some outdated relic, they must be jealous of my techno savvy and exercise prowess. I can tell. I just flash my smile while I rid myself of kimono arms.

Who's the old lady now!? Yeaaaaaaaaaaaah....oh, that's me.


~Bee is listening to "Brick House" by the Commodores.

19 April 2007

I've Been Busy

Here I am writing something worth a darn.

I've been busy.

Haven't we all? Don't you love it when people say that, "I've been busy." It's the ultimate excuse. It's uses are so entirely versatile.

You forget to pick up your kids at school?
I've just been busy.

You miss a deadline at work?
Hey, I'm swamped. I'm so busy.


You hit someone with your car?
I was busy dialing my phone.

You forget to go to the bathroom?
I just wet myself, I was so busy.

You forgot to take your heart medication?
~Mumble mumble garble farble warble~

Why a mumble? That's what it sounds like from the inside of a casket 6 feet under. My point? I like asking questions and using question marks. My other point?

You make time for what is important to you.
Plain and simple.

You don't wet your pants, do you? You aren't too busy to take life-saving medication, are you? These are priorities. You make the time because your priorities are high when it comes to life and death, embarrassment, or sacrifice.

When you say you are busy, it simply means the other things you were doing, you have absolutely decided, were more important to accomplish. Is this just a conscious decision you've made to use your time for_____.

My motto is to make time. Just do it. (hey, that's kinda catchy)

Be honest with other people about your time. More importantly, be honest with yourself and take responsibility for every minute being a product of your own choices.

With that in mind, I have been making bacon-cheddar-cheese potato soup with french bread and home-made Rice Crispy treats after cleaning my kitchen and unpacking my stacks of boxes after helping kids with homework. I devour one chapter of my new book, "Blink" and it's lights out for the kiddies, and only after making both my daily phone calls to best friends that I have time to blog.

Once again, I made time for what is really important.

~The way we spend our days, is the way we spend our life.~


17 April 2007

You should see the room service

I pulled out this CD and had to post it. Stan Freberg always has me in stitches. I needed a smile today....

13 April 2007

who's your foodie now?

I feel like typing my brains out this week. I'm inspired and I just keep typing, pounding my drafts like I'm a New York Times reporter two minutes to deadline. I wish I could write like this every time I sit down. Speaking of writing, Laurie Notaro's new book is coming out at the end of May. Her wit, humor and life experience is enough to keep me howling for weeks.

Mr. Coffee surprised me with a new vacuum yesterday, the former antiquated vacuum now gracing a landfill somewhere. The new machine is green, HEPA filtered, wide path, bagless...blah blah blah ~glaze over~ I vacuumed my whole place yesterday. This vacuum really sucks. They make these things so light now, my old vacuum felt like I was tugging around a small bus.

Yesterday, I stopped on the way home from dropping the kids at school and got my morning coffee inside that 'Star place' in Safeway. I grabbed some things for this week and noticed the meat department stickering their clearanced items. ($15 roast for $2.07) I was able to stuff my freezer with meat for the next three weeks for under $20. Since my two boys are now auditioning to be the up-and-coming Competitive Eating Champions, this was a great find. I'm off to Costco this afternoon for my barrel of steak sauce and 20 gallons of milk.

Make sure to check out the music video below. This artist is fabulous....

10 April 2007

yesterday I was...no, wait, that wasn't me.

Barn

I love living here in the Pacific NW. Can you see why I am typically armed with my camera? You just never know when a barn will catch your eye. At least I am not living out in this barn. I think it has cow poopies in the field. Anyone for some frisbee?

So, I'll make this short and sweet. Our house had an offer, and sold in a week and a half. We moved everything in three days and closed within 10 days. wow.

The kids love their rooms and are trying to test the soundproof-ability of the walls between us and our neighbors. I almost sound like a recording now, "NO RUNNING!".

Mr. Coffee is attempting to fit all 62 boxes of books into bookshelves in our living room. I think if we sold every one of these books, we could be a homeowner once again with a cash sale, too.

I'm settling in, enjoying my kitchen which doesn't look big in the pictures. Oh, but the storage...it's divine. I was with friends, shopping for a vacuum at Best Buy and saw some washing machines that I would seriously consider marrying and having little washing machine babies. They were so pretty, and front-loadingish. The next house we buy will have these gracing it's laundry room. (they come in red, royal blue and a couple other colors which I can't remember)

I've also encountered an unusual phenomena where complete strangers are encouraging their children, ranging in ages 4-10, to converge upon our new abode. These are the same children who's parents have no problem with me, a perfect stranger, babysitting their offspring. I'm a little sickened that I haven't met one parent here. And. They. Keep. Sending. Me. Their. KIDS.

~KNOCK KNOCK~

I open the door, "Hello?"

A small child in front of me looks up with big eyes, "Hi, can your kids play?"

I squat down a little to his level, "Well, they can't come out right now, they're doing homework."

The child stares blankly.

Me: "Were is your Mommy?"

"She just had a baby, " he replied matter of fact.

"Oh," I was a bit surprised as I thought to myself, "Why have another when you don't take care of this one??!"

"How old are you?" I was curious, and since this child was so forthright, I had no qualms in asking him questions.

Child: "Four."

Me: "Does your Mommy or Daddy know where you are?"

Child: "Uh-huh...playin' outside...."

I know it's judgmental but these parents wouldn't leave a stinking bike out in the stairwell, but they let their kids leave for hours at a time, talking without reserve to strange adults. I guess being a mom with kids qualified me as safe. This has initiated the 'no neighbor kids allowed over' rule. On second thought, I am also tempted to send the innocent visitors home with this note:

Dear Parent,

I am new in the complex and would love to have your kids over. I spank but don't leave too many bruises just so you know.

Feel free to send your kiddies over anytime after school...except for Tuesdays when I meet my parole officer, oh, and Friday nights cause I go out on my 'second job' and there's no one home with the kids. Your kids can come on weekends if they don't mind helping my kids rolling their Daddy's "cigarettes". Otherwise, I just set them up in front of the Gameboy and they are pretty quiet. I'm pretty hung over until noon, so make sure your kids know not to knock too loud in the morning or I wake up in a foul mood. I don't mind, either if you send over some granola bars or cheetos, or something your kids eat. All I have here is warm beer and protein bars (my kids never complain)

Here is my cell number in case I get extradited and you have to pick your kids up from Child Services. (Mrs. Dawna over there is really nice. She knows my kids real well.)
Thanks.
555-1212

Okay, maybe not but it might solve my problem.

Complex Babysitting

Barn

I love living here in the Pacific NW. Can you see why I am typically armed with my camera? You just never know when a barn will catch your eye. At least I am not living out in this barn. I think it has cow poopies in the field.

So, I'll make this short and sweet. Our house had an offer, and sold in a week and a half. We moved everything in three days and closed within 10 days. wow.

The kids love their rooms and are trying to test the soundproof-ability of the walls between us and our neighbors. I sound like a recording now, "NO RUNNING!".

Mr. Coffee is attempting to fit all 62 boxes of books into bookshelves in our living room.

I'm settling in, enjoying my kitchen which doesn't look big in the pictures. Oh, but the storage...it's divine.

I was with friends, shopping for a vacuum at Best Buy and saw some washing machines that I would seriously consider marrying and having little washing machine babies. They were so pretty, and front-loadingish. The next house we buy will have these gracing it's laundry room.

I've also encountered an unusual phenomena where complete strangers are encouraging their children, ranging in ages 4-10, to converge upon our new abode. These are the same children who's parents have no problem with me, a perfect stranger, babysitting their offspring. I'm a little sickened that I haven't met one parent here. And. They. Keep. Sending. Me. Their. KIDS.

~KNOCK KNOCK~

I open the door, "Hello?"

A small child in front of me looks up with big eyes, "Hi, can your kids play?"

I squat down a little to his level, "Well, they can't come out right now, they're doing homework."

The child stares blankly.

Me: "Were is your Mommy?"

"She just had a baby, " he replied matter of fact.

"Oh," I was a bit surprised as I thought to myself, "Why have another when you don't take care of this one??!"

"How old are you?" I was curious, and since this child was so forthright, I had no qualms in asking him questions.

Child: "Four."

Me: "Does your Mommy or Daddy know where you are?"

Child: "Uh-huh...playin' outside...."

I know it's judgmental but these parents wouldn't leave a stinking bike out in the stairwell, but they let their kids leave for hours at a time, talking without reserve to strange adults. I guess being a mom with kids qualified me as safe. This has initiated the 'no neighbor kids allowed over' rule. On second thought, I am also tempted to send the innocent visitors home with this note:

Dear Parent,

I am new in the complex and would love to have your kids over. I spank but don't leave too many bruises in case they get out of hand.

Feel free to send your kiddies over anytime after school...except for Tuesdays when I meet my parole officer, oh, and Friday nights cause I go out on my 'second job' and there's no one home with the kids. Your kids can come on weekends if they don't mind helping my kids rolling their dad's "cigarettes".

Otherwise, I just set them up in front of the Gameboy and they are pretty quiet. I'm pretty hung over until noon, so make sure your kids know not to knock too loud in the morning or I wake up in a foul mood. I don't mind, either if you send over some granola bars or cheetos, or something your kids eat. All I have here is warm beer and protein bars (my kids never complain)

Here is my cell number in case I get extradited and you have to pick your kids up from Child Services. Ask for my parole officer over there. She's is really nice. She knows my kids real well.
Thanks.
555-1212

~Bee is SO tempted right now