29 July 2007

Does this make my wallet look big?

I see these widgets on blogs about young girls and the rise of mothers' for modesty. Modesty is a virtue to be heralded and taught, I so agree. It is the finest display of humility and moderation. It is also becoming as rare as a one-piece girls swimsuit.

Our culture has integrated sexuality with pretty much everything. Movies, fashion, food, cars, mainstream media, you name it. So, it was no surprise to me the difficulty I encountered in finding modest swimwear for my 10 year old. Why would I have a problem putting an article of clothing on my daughter that is designed to look sexy? You may say that this is no big deal, and I'm a prude. Well, I am a prude (only Mr. Coffee knows differently) and yes, this is a big deal.

Having two young daughters, I decorate their room and buy their clothes. The floor of their room is often scattered with their toys and dolls. (I'm doubtful my frequently assaulted feet will ever recover). Appropriate purchases are made with my own standard of modesty.

No makeup for my 10 year old.
One piece swimsuits only.
No tube tops.
No hot pants.
No t-shirts that say, "I Take Candy from Strangers", "Property of the Boys Locker Room" or "Wanna Get Lucky with this Ducky?".


Unbelievable, really. (and no, I'm not making those up, I'm a tyrant for sure)

Armed with that retailer-coveted purchasing power, manufacturers should listen to what parents would have to say. Parents who've spent a good amount of moolah on stuff over the last 10 years. Parents like me who care about how my child is seen and influenced.

Let me tell you some cold hard facts.

According to the Internet Filter Software Review, in 2007:

Every second 28, 258 internet users are viewing pornography.

Daily Gnutella (peer to peer network file sharing site) "child pornography" requests: 116,000

Sexual solicitations of youth made in chat rooms: 89%

The Internet Filter Software Review site is well documented, I'm not trying to be an alarmist here, but make a point. So how do you get the retailers to sit up and take notice of this perverted interest in young girls (and boys for that matter)?

If you are annoyed, disappointed, or angry with a product, how do you deal with it? How do you fight retailers against thong underwear for a school aged child? How do you stop toy manufacturers from producing baby dolls with their butt crack/thong hanging out of their baby low-rise jeans? (you know which ones I mean, they start with B and end with B r a t z).

There are a few avenues you can take:

The power of the pen!
Phone calls can be ignored, but a well-written letter on a bright colored piece of paper would be more likely to get attention. Write several letters to all involved. The internet is a mecca of information when it comes to getting email and snail mail addresses. I always say, it's not what you know, it's how fast you can Google. If you can't find an address, email me. My friend Emmaline can find it for you.


Be an example.

I'd say this is a no-brainer but it deserves a large spotlight. I was just talking to another blogger and together we were cringing over the commonly heard parenting phrase, "Do what I say, not as I do". Great kids, I'm teaching you hypocrisy! I suggest instead, what better way to teach modesty by being an example of my own standard. I know. Diabolical isn't it?


Stop buying the items in question.
This is really simple and the most effective. Nothing appeals to retailers more than the bottom line. Just don't buy. When the bottom line disappears from black, (not just grey or pink, but I'm talking a nice neon red), I'll bank that retailers would get the picture.

Protect your wallet, be an example, and whip out your best letters. It can be done. Now go forth and be modest.

25 July 2007

PEBCAK and other computer thingie problems

I pulled up my New Post and have no idea where my brain will take you today. It should be interesting since the chlorine, sun and perhaps too many deep dives have altered my brain beyond common sense. Or maybe it's the lack of sleep as some bloggers can see my 3 am comments, in which I see a few days later and wonder who the heck hijacked my profile.

Two nights ago I stayed up late, my CD/ROM drive took a dive for good and I fell asleep, dreaming of the most perfect template. What a difference a good nights sleep makes with the end result. Happy Birthday to Dapoppins (last weekend) who is the proud owner of my latest template. Dapoppins also has a good discussion going on about hypocrites and what is a hypocrite. Good brain food for thought.

Dear Anon of 4:37pm from this week:

First, I certainly hope you don't kiss anyone with that mouth. I welcome anon comments but please, get a thesaurus. You really should consider finding and utilizing more than one adjective.

Second, I'll decline your repeated requests of copulation. I have had four kids in six years, do you think for a minute I am lacking in that area? I assure you, I am not.

Third, you insinuate that I'm a "lousie designer"? Thanks. Perhaps I am a lousy designer and I'll be the first to admit my templates are badly parsed. They work, so what else should I be doing? But do me a favor, first go teach yourself HTML, design your own blog template, and then find a way to get paid for your time to do this for others. Then head on over to your proctologist with all the money you make and have him remove your head jammed in your neither regions. (By the way, how does your shampoo taste?) You'll find it much more comfortable when you sit in front of your computer.

What I do is simply called entrepreneurial ventures of a mother of four and income of one making Christmas and birthday money (and perhaps a pedicure thrown in during the summer). I do these for how someone requests them, not necessarily what I would do for myself. I am always proud of my work, regardless.

And for inquiring minds with more than one adjective in their vocabulary, if you want a blog template that is free, you can see my Kaboodle list here.

In other news, our local IKEA opened up today. I'm in heaven. I was also at another blogger's post today and she was talking about an Edward Norton movie that was amazingly good, The Painted Veil. I just can't see Edward Norton out of Fight Club. If you saw it you would understand why IKEA and Edward Norton would put Fight Club on the brain. I loved that movie, although it is rated R for a reason. I think the movie makes for great conversation. Who has seen this movie and what did you think?

I'm off and running...sun, chlorine and ugly swimsuits are calling.

~Ems

Brain Food

I pulled up my New Post and have no idea where my brain will take you today. It should be interesting since the chlorine, sun and perhaps too many deep dives have altered my brain beyond common sense. Or maybe it's the lack of sleep as some bloggers can see my 3 am comments, in which I see a few days later and wonder who the heck hijacked my profile.

Two nights ago I stayed up late, my CD/ROM drive took a dive for good and I fell asleep, dreaming of the most perfect template. What a difference a good nights sleep makes with the end result. Happy Birthday to Dapoppins (last weekend) who is the proud owner of my latest template. Dapoppins also has a good discussion going on about hypocrites and what is a hypocrite. Good brain food for thought.

In other news, our local IKEA opened up today. I'm in heaven. I was also at another blogger's post today and she was talking about an Edward Norton movie but I just can't see Edward Norton out of Fight Club. If you saw it you would understand why IKEA and Edward Norton would put Fight Club on the brain.

I loved that movie. It makes for great conversation. Who has seen this movie and what did you think?

I'm off and running...sun, chlorine and ugly swimsuits are calling.

~Bee thinks this post is about brain food

23 July 2007

Touch Not the Cat But a Glove

Mackintosh is the family name and Scottish Highland were the Games.

Saturday, I went to the Scottish Highland Games with the whole family. It was fun to break out in our best Scottish brogue. Mine tends to go Irish on me but it was funny hearing the kids try. Our flickr.com pictures are here.

There was a wonderful ceilidh (pronounced KAY-LEE) with a dance competition, we ate bangers and mash (sausage and potatoes to us Yanks) and watched a sheep dog competition. There were also athletics: a caber toss, running, the Scottish hammer and last, the Braemar stone throw. It was great to see men in their kilts showing off their knees with wild abandon. I especially liked this bloke below, puffing the sweetest smelling tobacco on his pipe, meandering along so casual and unassuming.

Mr. Coffee got into the spirit and donned his noggin with a balmoral and the family name crest. We even saw a vender selling knives and I thought of Doozie Stabalot.

Everything there was a little spendy but we did purchase matching spinning celtic knot rings. Mine is smaller than his ring and I find myself absentmindedly spinning it around and around my finger. Mr. Coffee doesn't wear much jewelry, so I was happy that he wanted one.

The kids were so tired after several hours of walking around, so we sat down on the fiberglass bleachers and drank lemonade. Whatever compelled someone to create fiberglass bleachers is beyond me.

Much to our dismay our four year old started whining and crying, flailing her arms wildly while scratching her fiberglass covered arms. The kids were itchy, pooping out, and beating each other with their wooden sword souvenirs so we called it a day by mid-afternoon.

I think we will go again next year and stay away from the next episode of "When Bleachers Attack".

As for the title of the post, "Touch Not the Cat But a Glove" is the Mackintosh family crest. My 3x grandmother would be so proud.

22 July 2007

This Post Is In Braille



Because I know how many blind customers navigate the McDonalds drive-thru.

I think we should thank McDonalds for embracing diversity. Thank you, McDonalds and a special gold star for you for being so daft in the signage department.

20 July 2007

Riding a pine rollercoaster

I admit. I like to research dead people.

Gone but not forgotten, assuming room temperature, bought the farm, fettucine al deado, taking a dirt nap, cooking for the Kennedy's....and I don't mean mostly dead.

I'll spare you the details but I've been researching my family tree for years now (okay, okay, 2300 documented personally and counting).

I'm now pursuing my license as a Board Certified Genealogist. I've passed a preliminary test with flying colors. I'll be the first to say, I've become an incredible researcher because of my hobby. I think I can find just about anyone. Even Emmaline would be proud.

I wanted to post this, because I've recently run across some incredibly disrespectful people at the cemetery. It dawned on me that many probably don't know proper etiquette. From this day forward, if you do visit a cemetery, I will have singlehandedly prepared you with a few tips and courtesies you might find useful. This might also spare you the ill-fated pleasure of being brutally bludgeoned with a garden spade and then buried alive by cemetery visitors, such as myself.

Please respect a burial site.
A marker or headstone may not be your family but it is someone's family. Walk in the isles whenever possible. Don't sit, throw or leave your garbage on someone's marker. Bottles and ciggies also fall in this category. If you have a pet with you, please, for the love of dog biscuits and everything glad-bagged, make sure they do their business away from the markers and obey the scoop law.

Be courteous to those who are already there.
Most people who visit cemeteries don't care to be disturbed. Hosting a rave or tagging party is not recommended. Do be aware of your surroundings though, cemeteries can be pretty secluded. I have a genealogical contact back east that twisted her ankle on a hill at the cemetery and wasn't found until later that evening when she didn't come home. Cell phones are recommended in case you have an issue arise.

If you clean off a marker, I do suggest bringing a few tools and items:
Gloves, spade, hand broom, garbage sack, tap water, paper and chalk/crayon for rubbings, camera. You would be surprised how dirty markers can get. I also like this hand tool the best. I purchased mine for under 10 bucks at my local hardware store. Make sure to throw away all garbage including debris (grass or dirt) removed from any markers you clean.

Get the kids and family involved.
I'm really big on this because even though this is a sad thing when people die, it's also the natural end of life. I think this also brings comfort when there is a death in the family. I feel it's very important to know where your roots are and where you have come from.

Happy Trees!!

With that, I'll be gone until Sunday. I'll be having fun sorting some twigs in my family tree.

~Ems

Cemetery Etiquette

I admit. I like to research dead people.

Gone but not forgotten, assuming room temperature, bought the farm, fettucine al deado, taking a dirt nap, cooking for the Kennedy's....and I don't mean Princess Bride-ish "mostly dead".

I'll spare you the details but I've been researching my family tree for years now (okay, okay, 2300 documented personally and counting).

I'm now pursuing my license as a Board Certified Genealogist. I've passed a preliminary test with flying colors. I'll be the first to say, I've honed some incredible researching skills because of my hobby.

I wanted to post this, because I've recently run across some incredibly disrespectful people at the cemetery. It dawned on me that many probably don't know proper etiquette. From this day forward, if you do visit a cemetery, I will have single-handedly prepared you with a few tips and courtesies you might find useful. This might also spare you the ill-fated pleasure of being brutally bludgeoned with a garden spade and then buried alive by cemetery visitors, such as myself.

Please respect a burial site.
A marker or headstone may not be your family but it is someone's family. Walk in the isles whenever possible. Don't sit, throw or leave your garbage on someone's marker. Bottles and ciggies also fall in this category. If you have a pet with you please, for the love of dog biscuits, obey the scoop law.

Be courteous to those who are already there.
Most people who visit cemeteries don't care to be disturbed. Hosting a rave or tagging party is not recommended. Do be aware of your surroundings though, cemeteries can be pretty secluded.

If you clean off a marker, I do suggest bringing a few tools and items:
Gloves
Spade
Hand broom
Garbage sack
Tap water
Paper and chalk/crayon for rubbings
Camera
Cell phone for safety!

You would be surprised how dirty markers can get. I like the small flat axe on one side and a tri-forked prong on the other side the best. I purchased mine for under 10 bucks at my local hardware store. Make sure to throw away all garbage including debris (grass or dirt) removed from any markers you clean.

Get the kids and family involved.
I'm really big on this because even though this is a sad thing when people die, it's also the natural end of life. I think this also brings comfort when there is a death in the family. It's important to know where your roots are and where you have come from.

Happy Trees!!

19 July 2007

Liberating

I want to thank you all for such supportive comments and ears open to hear.

Time does not heal all wounds. You heal when you decide to.

It's been very, very liberating to finally get these issues out. I fear the responsibility for how the people involved are perceived but I cannot change the past, nor the mistakes made. If sharing this helps someone else with the same issues, just one person, I feel it was all worth it.

This was my only reason for holding these things so close and not sharing them..even to my own detriment. They are what they are, and I cannot change the past.

I am VERY blessed to have Mr. Coffee who's only hand and words to me have been outstretched to help, love, and comfort (and give me back the silly crap I deal him on a regular basis).

Thank you for your encouragement and outspokenness from those who have experienced the same being bravely transparent enough to share. I was *not* expecting that at all. I hope my story brings healing for more than just my own self, but others too, to be brave, speak out or remove themselves from these types of issues.

Feeling the love......

17 July 2007

Mothers Against Book Discrimination

I read this morning that Borders Books is pulling the comic, Tintin In The Congo, off of the children's shelves. After complaints of racism, Borders decided to put that publication in the graphic novels over in the adult section. According to the Associated Press, other Tintin titles will remain in the children's section.

I've read these comics growing up. This one in particular is silly, fun, and adventurous. It was originally written in the 1930's by Belgian born, illustrator and writer, Herge'. Herge' later stated the book was a bit embarrassing but merely a reflection of the naive views of the time. Some of the scenes he later revised for later editions of Tintin in the Congo.

If anything, it is offensive that these books, these very books that encouraged me to read as a child, are being picked apart bit by bit. Some people might consider the karma sutra offensive...or perhaps Hilary Clinton's biography as offensive. Maybe I should complain about the Tintin books, his dog *is* named Snowy and there are drug addicts out there. Hello?!

How overly sensitive do we have to be now in the name of political correctness? P.C. in my book just stands for Pursuing Controversy or Pissy and Complaining.

What I don't understand is Borders reasoning. If this book is racist in the children's section, why isn't it equally racist in a different section? Heck, why don't we just ban them all, paint on little Hitler mustaches and make a bonfire. Is it irony that sales of this particular edition have shot 3800 percent since this controversy hit the news? I know they aren't banning the publication, but limiting children's access.

Apparently the outrage I hear and read is that reading such publications will make children racist and yet in the next breath I hear that I'm ridiculous because, of course, Harry Potter won't turn your children into little sorcerers. Can you say double standard?

As a former employee of two bookstores (let's call them Morders AND Darnes & Soble), I understand there is very little those bookstores can do to remove a book, unless it is deemed illegal. As a self-proclaimed photographer and former bookseller, I have encountered books that I consider full on child pornography. I complained about these two books with my manager at the time after removing one of these publications *twice* from the men's bathroom. (magazines were also common...ewww very gross) These were full of nude child photography 'done artfully and tastefully'. Certainly not my words. Somehow within the year, both of the dust jackets got ripped and damaged for being looked at so often. They were returned to their publisher as damaged and never reordered.

There are reasons to limit access to publications, but Tintin and his dog Snowy? Pleeese. Let's just view these how the were intended: A silly comic about the adventures of a boy and his dog. It's not rocket surgery.

Snowy Crackers In The Congo

I read this morning that Borders Books is pulling the comic, Tintin In The Congo, off of the children's shelves. After complaints of racism, Borders decided to put that publication in the graphic novels over in the adult section. According to the Associated Press, other Tintin titles will remain in the children's section.

I've read these comics growing up. This one in particular is silly, fun, and adventurous. It was originally written in the 1930's by Belgian born, illustrator and writer, Herge'. Herge' later stated the book was a bit embarrassing but merely a reflection of the naive views of the time. Some of the scenes he later revised for later editions of Tintin in the Congo.

If anything, the offensive idea is that these books, the very books that encouraged me to read as a child, are being picked apart bit by bit. Some people might consider the karma sutra offensive...or perhaps Hilary Clinton's biography as offensive. Maybe I should complain about the Tintin books. His dog *is* named Snowy and there are drug addicts out there. We also know that Snowy is just another name for Cracker. Not cool, unless you are a saltine or triscut.

How overly sensitive do we have to be now in the name of political correctness? Or should I say, PC: Pursuing Controversy or Petty and Complaining.

What I don't understand is Borders reasoning. If this book is racist in the children's section, why isn't it equally racist in a different section? Heck, why don't we just ban them all, paint on little Hitler mustaches and make a bonfire. Is it irony that sales of this particular edition have shot 3800 percent since this controversy hit the news? I know they aren't banning the publication, but limiting children's access. In their own argument, adult racism is allowed but childhood racism is not?

Apparently the outrage I hear and read is that reading such publications will make children racist and yet in the next breath I hear that I'm ridiculous because, of course, Harry Potter won't turn your children into little sorcerers. Can you say double standard?

As a former employee of two bookstores...for clarity's sake lets just call them "Borders" and "Barnes and Noble"... I understand there is very little those bookstores can do to remove a book, unless it is deemed illegal. As a self-proclaimed photographer, I have encountered books that I consider full on child pornography. I complained about these two books with my manager at the time after removing one of these publications *twice* from the men's bathroom. Blurgh.

The photography books were nothing short of full of nude child photography, done 'artfully and tastefully'. Certainly not my words. Somehow within the year, both of the dust jackets got ripped and damaged for being looked at, in and out of the bathroom. The books were then returned to their publisher as damaged and never reordered.

There are reasons to limit access to publications, but Tintin and his dog Snowy? Pleeese. Let's just view these how the were intended: A silly comic about the adventures of a boy and his dog. It's not rocket surgery.

~Bee still thinks Tintin's bearded twins are funny

15 July 2007

Baby, You Can Drive My Car

If you have ever played X Box or driving games, you probably agree that these are fun for a while. I like combining my love for muscle cars, my lightning reflexes, and the added benefit of relieving tension. Nothing like totaling a Ferrari to make your day complete.

You drive by smashing cars off the road, raging around your opponent, crashing with maximum amount of damage, and you even gets points for taking down other cars.

Enough about my carpooling, I'm talking Burnout Revenge Takedown.

There is nothing like tasting the sheer excitement of seeing parts ready to fall off your car, the hood crumpled, totaling your opponent watching the doors hanging off their hinges. It really is a tension reliever.  

Take that Mr. Postman!, OH YEAH! who has the bad address now?! 


Max is 8yrs old and we've plowed our way through so many levels (starting with a little rice burner..by the way, is that a racist saying or not?) the boy is driving, smashing, raging, racing around in a Fire Engine. He asked me today if it would be cool to have a Smart Car to race with. That's about as funny as a moped on the Autobahn.

So, we raced our way to high score. Call that 30+ hours of wasted time, never to be retrieved again. But hey, it's top score, so that has to count for something for Max, right?

Fast forward to his future in BUDS/CRT Navy military training:

"FNG!!!!? Are you the bottom of the barrel?!! THE ONLY EASY DAY WAS YESTERDAY, BOY! SECOND PLACE IS FIRST LOSER!!! MY GRANNY COULD HAVE RUN LAPS AROUND YOUR EXCUSE FOR A RUN....ARE YOU GOING TO RING OUT?! YOU WANNA RING OUT?! WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF?!"

[insert Master Chief into face here]

"I CAN DO IT, MASTER CHIEF. SIR! When I was eight, my mom and I got top score IN A FIRE TRUCK ON BURNOUT REVENGE TAKEDOWN, SIR!"

"WELL THAT'S THE KIND OF PROGRESS I'M LOOKING FOR, FNG! AS YOU WERE!"

So maybe racing won't get him far in life, but I don't think he'll forget that he and his mom got down and dirty racing in his firetruck as we laughed and sped our crumpled fenders to the finish line.

Drive Like You Stole It

If you have ever played X Box or driving games, you probably agree that these are fun for a while.

Muscle cars, lightning reflexes, and the added benefit of relieving tension. Nothing like totaling a Ferrari to make your day complete.

You drive by smashing cars off the road, raging around your opponent, crashing with maximum amount of damage, and you even gets points for taking down other cars.

Enough about my carpooling, I'm talking Burnout Revenge Takedown.

Nothing compares to the sheer excitement of seeing parts ready to fall off your car, the hood crumpled as you total your opponent. The doors smash off or hang off their hinges. It really is a tension reliever.

The Game Cubist is 8 and we've plowed our way through so many levels. The boy is driving, smashing, raging, racing around in a Fire Engine. He asked me today if it would be cool to have a Smart Car to race with. That's about as funny as a moped on the Autobahn.

So, we raced our way to high score. Call that 30+ hours of wasted time, never to be retrieved again. But hey, it's top score, so that has to count for something, right?

Fast forward to his future in BUDS/CRT Navy military training:

"FNG!!!!? Are you the bottom of the barrel?!! THE ONLY EASY DAY WAS YESTERDAY, BOY! SECOND PLACE IS FIRST LOSER!!! MY GRANNY COULD HAVE RUN LAPS AROUND YOUR LAME ASS EXCUSE FOR A RUN....ARE YOU GOING TO RING OUT?! YOU WANNA RING OUT?! WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY FOR YOURSELF?!"

[insert the Master Chief's into yours]

"I CAN DO IT, MASTER CHIEF. SIR! When I was eight, my mom and I got top score IN A FIRE TRUCK ON BURNOUT REVENGE TAKEDOWN, SIR!"

"WELL THAT'S THE KIND OF PROGRESS I'M LOOKING FOR, FNG! AS YOU WERE!"

So maybe racing won't get him far in life, but I don't think he'll forget that he and his mom got down and dirty racing in his firetruck as we laughed and sped our crumpled fenders to the finish line.

~Bee will not tell you what FNG stands for. ~ehmmm~

11 July 2007

Fun, fun, fun, fun, till daddy took the glue gun away

Today we go back in time to my youth, to the time when cars embarrassed the heck out of me. I'll say, these are facts, to the best of my recollection and in no way intending on disrespecting anyone.

My dad enjoyed his cars. He also was a firm believer in not buying new for the debt factor. As a result he had many cars during my childhood.

The first thing I remember riding was a motorcycle because, naturally, this is the preferred transportation of families with multiple children worldwide. Don't ask.

The very first car I remember from my childhood was a Dodge Charger. It was a muscle car and my dad first repair was taking off the glass packs. The green paint glittered, very 70's ish when the sun hit it and the doors were very possibly composed of surplus Pershing tanks.

Seat belts were optional. Seat belts were never legally required back then, but the doors would undoubtedly shield us from any perils that came our way including a nuclear blast. Later on in years it also had the ability to idle for about 30 seconds past ignition shut down.

~Sputter ...rattle ...sputter ...gshaaw gshawwwww ...pffffffffffff~

Rather like the Uncle Buckmobile.

We had lots of fun in that car but the most memorable trips were when we'd head on down the to the dump or even behind the mall. We'd sit quietly and watch the back exits as Dad would unload our personal garbage straight out of the trunk into the movie theater dumpsters.

No, I take that back.

That actually came later when we owned our Mercury Comet with bucket seats. That car was deemed 'The Vomit' by me and my sisters. It was yellow and small. So small, in fact, my knee print was permanently indented in the back of the two front seats. The time we went from Oregon to So. Cal and back, my uncle bought my dad shocks for the car because they were so blown in the back. Who knew four girls would grow up and be so heavy?

There was the time, when I was about 15 that my dad went through a classic car stage. We had four cars in our drive.

A homely Plymouth Duster that my father wanted desperately for me to buy. I declined. I liked cars in something other than primer grey with the gas tank attached.

Then we had a vintage Plymouth Gran Fury.

You'd climb into the driver seat and the smell would hit you: antique store and moth balls. Adjust the mirror to see out the curved glass in the back window. Fasten your seat belt and grab onto the over-sized steering wheel. As you backed out, you would quickly remember the ¼ turn in each direction before the wheels would respond. Talk about adventures in driving. It needed some work so it sat in our driveway on blocks for a few months, complete with dead battery.

The last vehicle, I would love to own myself. It was a pearly blue Pontiac Tempest, and that baby had a 383 short block. We are talking some serious cojones but sadly, this wondrous machine did not have Dodge Charger tank doors. It had been in at least two accidents. One with the front smashed in and the second, smashing in the driver's door.

I remember repeatedly seeing my father's eyes light up when, as if on cue, some dork would pull up next to us and holler over something like, "NICE car, GRANDPA, wanna race?". Peals of laughter would follow from the other passengers. My dad would just smile, and hit the gas on green. Then the payoff was worth it: waving at them in his rear view window.

Cars made my dad young.

One night some dim bulb decided to steal our cars. The dude hot-wired the gas tank-less Duster.

Robber Bob then tried the one with the dead battery.

The third car was on blocks.

Robber Bob must have been high. I wish I could have seen his face on the third car.

The pinnacle of driving was The Caddy.

It was a 1970 Boat Cadillac Coupe De Ville (I can still hear my father's voice) "...and a 440 engine in it".

It was white, with a black fabric roof that peeled incessantly. The blue stripe on the passenger side door came later from my step-mom hitting a blue postal box. The story goes, my sister mailed a letter and failed to close the door quick enough when getting back in the car. I don't know why I think that is so dang funny.

My dad also carried a case of oil in the trunk. The Caddy leaked oil. The roof peeled which necessitated a giant glue/caulking gun next to the case of oil. My dad would pull over in a vacant lot and we knew that was our cue to duck down while he topped off the oil and/or caulked the roof while he was at it.

One year as our Church camp bus pulled into the parking lot, my sister and I suffered the worst possible fate. The entire bus of High Schoolers rolled by my dad, armed with his caulking gun.

He stood adorned in his I'm A Parent And Will Embarrass You Lime Green and White Striped Terry Cloth Tank Top.

And we saw it. Everyone saw it.

There he was gluing down the fabric roof our Caddy.

Glue. Roof.

Now I wonder how much my van will embarrass my kids. bwhahahaa....

08 July 2007

Unce, Tice, Fee Times A Mady

Why do I always change things around here? I'm sorry. I am obsessive-compulsive. I can't stop. I also can't stop the song rolling through my head this weekend by Eddie Murphy: Buck Wheat Sings Love Songs.

Lookin pa nub in all duh wong pwaces......

That was SNL when it was funny.

Today, I got to lay out at the pool and listen to my iPod to make Buckwheat go away. I think the other moms at the pool have technology envy. One lady even admitted she just bought her first CD last week. She had.....wait for it......an eight track. I told her she could probably get some money for her eight track on eBay. She just looked at me, "What's an eBay?"

Wow. I didn't see that coming.

Have you ever thought you have a painful road in life already traveled and left behind to then have someone come along, open it back up, and turn it into a four lane major highway. I get so annoyed when that happens.

In other words, someone pushed some buttons this week and now I'm stewing over it. Like it or not, I'm not throwing the baby out with the bathwater. If this makes no sense, I haven't a clue either.

Huh? Did you say something?

My kids are sucking the life out of me, by dragging me to the park, mall, and pool, typically all in one day. Add 80+ degree heat...

HEY, It's not a dry heat


....exercise, commenting, reading, investigating online, cooking three or more meals a day and doing 1.4 metric tons of laundry. Throw in some coffee and welcome to what I call a typical Monday.

Two days ago I had a bird that flew into my dryer vent and it finally made it's way out the next morning. This is normal stuff folks.

I posted more photos on flickr.com. No, I won't make you see my photos but I posted some ones of me more than 14 years ago. I also ran across an album of a friends wedding and everyone appeared to be um, distillery enhanced.

On a side note, don't you think it's funny (funny=weird, not funny=haha) when you see pictures of someone who is completely sauced and their face is really red? I like to call that Three Beets to The Wind.

We had a good fourth here in the Pyro State. I took pics, of course, especially with the kids and their glow stick necklaces and bracelets.

I'm tired


and off to bed


and now you've read


the jumble in my head.


Burma Shave.

06 July 2007

TTYL

I have a hypothetical question and answer for cell phone etiquette. I always text my hubby back unless I'm driving. But what do you do if you got a lovey dovey text from your honey, would you:

a) text back asap and say 'thanks'

b) do nothing

c) text back only when you could get a quiet moment and say lovey dovey things back

d) keep a list of pre-made text messages to reply back appropriately because you are typically indisposed

e) send back naughty messages and symbols representing body parts and giggle when they send back the same. (*)(*)

Um, nice eyes.

f) pretend like you didn't get it because you are playing hard to get.

g) Text back, "WEG, thats OTH, CU L8R, H&K, LYL"

h) text back telling them, "I don't have the blackmail money, PLEASE for the sake of my family, don't tell my boss.."

i) text back telling them, "GET LOST freaky stalker...I'm calling the police"

j) Call them and tell them that was The Best Text Message EVER!

So, what would you do?


05 July 2007

The Best Post EVER

Our Blogger meet went well, as I said in my last post, Mr. Coffee and I along with Doozie and The Boy got to meet Jenn from My Life Is A Cartoon and her husband.

Jenn and her hubby made it over to The Rainiest City Ever here in the NW last weekend. They were fortunate to enjoy phenomenal 70-ish degree weather.

We met downtown and ate like kings at a restaurant touted nationally as One Of The Best Top Ten Seafood Restaurants Ever. The place was very fun, good food, good atmosphere, and reveled in the dinner banter. We talked about bloggers, the town I live in, and of course, The Boy declaring his dislike for the open display of "bodies and stuff" and "p e n i s e s" at the OMSI exhibit. I think Doozie wanted to crawl under the table from embarrassment. Pretty funny stuff....

After dinner, we walked a few blocks and enjoyed The Best Symphony Ever, thanks to a friend of mine who plays first chair violin there. She was being featured that night and we were ecstatic that she hooked us up with tickets. The music was outstanding although The Boy Who Was The Most Bored Ever was ready to leave after about 10 minutes. He was a trooper, though. We decided to pop over to The Best Bookstore Ever and drown ourselves in Odwalla juice, tea, and coffee.

~Bee had the Best Time Ever.

02 July 2007

Blogger Peeps In My Phat Ride

This weekend was a whirlwind, starting with Doozie coming into town with Walter.

It was so good to see her and amazingly the visit was abnormally uneventful. No car chases, no bail money, no oaths of silence or even tabletop dancing and jello shots. I've also grown very fond of Walter The Boy, as he and my oldest are about the same age. Even with gender differences, I think he and my daughter relate on the same level so it's easy for me to be myself around him.

I'm sure The Boy thinks me a bit odd, but hey, welcome to the club.

So, I had dinner with Dooz and The Boy on Friday night at the local Shari's. We all ordered our food and I have to say, The Boy ate like a bird.

One of these days he going to start eating things like an entire buffet or boxes of pancake mix, or small farm animals.

For our evening entertainment, The Boy also brought up repeatedly how Dooz would hurl things at the dog when the dog would start yapping. I'm 110% sure The Boy was saying this entirely for comic effect because at first it was small things hurled at the dog, a hairbrush, a cellphone, then on to a microwave.

By the end of the meal, he was sharing stories of hurling small appliances, the refrigerator, the washing machine and then finally, that Dooz would just hurl the dog when she got mad. Hurl and abuse a laptop, perhaps, but hurling the dog was new to me. That takes some wicked skilz.

I am also more than impressed seeing Doozies sweet rims and low profile tires in person. I want them too, but on my van? That's like putting a security system on a Yugo.

Viper is armed!!!!! Please step away from the vehicle!!!!


For those of you with any kind of imaginations, I'd go for the fuzzy dice, neon running boards, a lift kit, roached tires with some sweet spinners, tinted windows, and perhaps hydraulics and some bull horns on the front.... on my 1996 silver Ford Crapstar with the sporty red racing stripe down the sides. Saaaaahhhhweet.

I love making people laugh. That would do it.

Something like this would also do, but darn it if the kids fall flat on their face when they get out. I hate that.

I'll be busy today. When Doozie and The Boy were in town, The Boy told me my van stunk and asked me seriously, "Is that air freshener just for decoration?" Yeah, I'll be cleaning my van.