Stupid is, Stupid does...

There are days that I think of myself as an intelligent woman, but then there are days like today where I realize that I am just short of retarded. I have ulcers. I know I have them. They were diagnosed after many expensive little tests. I was told to avoid certain foods. I do not. Now, an intelligent person after going to the trouble to find out why they occasionally have agonizing pain in their abdomen, would make choices that would keep this from happening. This is where retarded comes in. Of the top three things they told me to avoid, I eat every one of them every day. Stupid? Yes. Asking for it? Heck, yeah. But how in the world could I abandon my lifeblood (soda), my sanity in times of trouble (chocolate), and my fun (ketchup).

So here I sit today, a total worthless blob after spending half the night curled up in a ball of misery while the other half was spent vomiting. I had hoped it would help ease the agony, but the acid was out to make me pay. I'm still wondering if it was all the oreos, soda, or the chili dog I ate for dinner that pushed me over the top. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

S-M-U-D-G-E

Pathetic has a first name, it's S-M-U-D-G-E... It doesn't roll off the tongue like OSCAR, but it's still been stuck in my head since I saw this little scenario.

Horsey Dreams...

This is a rare shot of Punkin not only holding still, but actually sleeping during the daylight hours. A rare and unexpected moment of absolute stillness...

Here we have Cowboy Jack sitting on our buddy Herndon. (Sorry the pictures are blurry, but I think the camera was rebelling because it was low on juice) I'm actually taking lessons to try and become a halfway competant rider, and Jack gets on and looks like a natural! My friend Marlie pointed out that they sense fear, and that would probably be why they give me such a hard time. Well I figure if they sense fear, then they must also be able to sense outright TERROR! I'll talk about that in a little bit, but first I'd like to talk about Cowboy Jack. Uncle Neal will appreciate the nickname because he is his favorite "cowboy". Please excuse the blatant "Brokeback Mountain" reference, but Neal and Jack do make a cute couple! Anyway... Jack has been embracing mine and the kids obsession with horses and he even practices "driving like a honkey". A useful skill I'm sure. After getting off of Herndon he was thinking out loud that he wanted to get himself a cowboy hat, and I have a really hard time picturing it, nickname aside. I wear boots, but only because I have fears of getting my feet caught in the stirrups and because there is no tread with which to get horse crap in. Not that I don't think cowboys in a nice hat are hot, I just can't imagine Jack in one. You know, it just doesn't go with his cargo shorts or his red and silver Nike's. Maybe it's just me but...

Back to my terror story. This is a story that happened a long time ago. We won't talk about how long ago, because then I'll start feeling old and get all cranky. It is a story about a girl who was dumb (me), and an adult who was dumber (we'll call her Sally because she sure was silly!).

Once upon a time I went to my friend Rochelle's cabin up in the woods. It was a beautiful fall day and she had this genius idea that we would go catch ourselves a couple of the horses in the pasture and go do some trail riding. I was soo excited! I honestly don't think I had been on a horse at that point since I was a toddler and my mom had put me on her horse with her. Not exactly alot of experience. I distinctly remember walking up the path after Rochelle caught them and put on their harnesses, musing that my horse named Rebel seemed so sweet and mannerly. In fact, I specifically said "Why did they name this horse Rebel? He seems like such a nice horse." Notice I said the word "seems". I think back to that and cringe because I was just sooo stupid. When we got up to the front drive Rochelle just put some bareback pads on them and we were off! Actually, no. WE were not off. Rochelle and her little mare started off down the drive while I sat on my giant horse wondering how to get him to go. I yelled my dilemma to Rochelle to figure out what to do since he didn't respond to "Alright, let's go Rebel". I don't remember what her advice was at this point because it was the beginning of the end of our little outing. Something about my ignorance made Mr. Rebel want to earn his name. Next thing I know, hooves are pawing the air, and his head was thrown back just right so that it could make contact with my facial bones. I don't even know how many times he reared up and beat me in the head but it was long enough to have a mental debate as to whether I should stay on and take the abuse, or to take my chances getting off. I decided that bailing would be the best route. It seemed to work for me as I did not get trampled. After my not so glamorous dismount, he was once again deceptively un-rebellious. As if I still held him in that light anymore. He was a Hell Horse from what I could see out of my blurry vision! So here's the part where Sally comes in. Sally was actually the owner of the horses and had seen the whole thing. She had said nothing to me about the nature of Mr. Rebel before I got on him. After though, she just had to tell me, "I actually don't even ride Rebel. I just didn't want to scare you." I'm sorry, whaa? Scare me? Caution is not usually scary. My wild ride was! I wanted to beat her then, but since I was still seeing two of her it would have been a bit difficult. I was redeemed by Rochelle's sometimes volatile dad though. He came home, saw my face, got the story, and went downstairs and let Sally HAVE IT!

So herein lies my horsey fears that keep on creeping up. I am doing pretty good overcoming them, but that first moment of terror when they actually start moving still creeps up, and then I realize that I know what to do, and I'm all good. I shall conquer the beast!

*Rochelle- I thought it was time to share this story. It was just time. Maybe the one with the rope swing will be next! That is one of our classics!

Bee Troubles

Over the last few weeks Jack, the kids and I have been watching a bee colony increase in numbers with much concern. Yesterday we decided to do something about it. Jack got some bee spray at the local hardware and when dark fell, he did it. The buzzing was so loud we could hear it in the house and we could see hundreds of bees swarming out of the hive and then dropping to the ground. This morning it looked like total genocide! There was a carpet of bees all around our front door, but we could still hear alot of buzzing. We knew we had to strike again. I warned Jack that they would likely have some sort of strike team waiting by to take him down. He laughed, grabbed the spray and headed for the door. Only he was not wearing anything but his underwear. I told him he should put some clothes on. He nodded and grabbed his shoes... Now I'm not sure, but a man facing an angry hive of bees should be wearing more than a pair of underwear and shoes. I'm not sure if it's stupid, white trash, or a little of both. I do have to be grateful for his bee killing techniques because I got a serious laugh watching him barrel back in through the front door with bees coming after him! Not such a smart man, but definitely entertaining!

Aaaah...

What once was lost, now is found...

Sad news...

The Jetta key is gone. In my defense, I had nothing to do with it. Melanie pulled my new key contraption out of my purse yesterday and said, "Mom, you're key is in here where it's supposed to be!" Later, I pulled the keys out and the zipper was open with the key gone! It's not in my purse, and I haven't driven it at all, so totally not my fault! I think that it's just an evil plot. I'm not sure who's orchestrating it, but I shall find out! This just goes to show that no matter what I do to prevent chaos and mayhem in my life, it still finds me. Damn...

My Solution

Yesterday I found myself at Vicoria's Secret looking for a miracle. I did find one, but much to my disappointment it didn't have straps, cups, and the promise of bounty that I have never before experienced for myself, but rather a more practical miracle. This miracle will likely salvage part of my sanity that has been misplaced, help with timeliness, AND marital relations. If you have read my last post you will agree. Keys are one of the banes of my existence, somewhere on the list between the little dog and Al-Qaeda. So back to the miracle, it's actually a simple contraption that is a little beauty bag that I was able to attach to my key ring. It has a zipper so that I can put my Jetta key in it to keep it safe since it no longer has the hook to keep it on the ring. Also, this beauty bag is big and bright so that it will help me find the keys easier! The only problem with this whole theory, says my husband that knows me so well, is that I just need to remember to put the key in this little bag not the freezer, my pocket or any of the places it's been found lately (oops)! I may have to pray for that miracle! And, I also found a cute purse that happens to match my key holding contraption. Life is good!

Symmetry

Symmetry is a concept that Syd was learning about in math not too long ago, and while I was laughing/crying in a hysterical manner last night and reflecting on my day I thought of symmetry. It can be a good thing and inspire good feelings because it allows you to know what to expect. What is on one side is the same on the other. This is good and bad, depending on whether you want things to be the same. I thought about this because there was an unerring symmetry to my day yesterday that sadly was nothing in any way, shape, or form what I would desire.

First thing in the morning I was hurrying to get Mel to school on time so that the Tardy Nazi's didn't have anything to grump about. The night before I had driven Jack's old truck because it was easier to get to, and had left the garage door opener in it. I didn't get it out because I couldn't find the keys to the truck. To solve the problem I just backed out and had Melanie push the button and run while jumping over the sensor. As I watched the door shut I realized that I had a significant problem. The set of keys that I couldn't find also had my house key on it and obviously I didn't have the garage door opener. Bad. Bad. Bad. I sat there staring at my closed garage thinking to myself that it figured that I was wearing one of Jack's shirts without even a bra, a jean skirt and some old flip flops with un-brushed teeth. The girls in the back were in their panties. I had been, after all just planning on going through the drive-thru to drop Mel off and heading straight home to a shower and a toothbrush. Naturally I was also supposed to be babysitting a friend's little man. In any case I had to gas up, grab the little guy, and head out to Phoenix to go grab Jack's garage door opener. When I told him about my predicament he didn't even have the good graces to sound surprised or even a little sympathetic. It amused him. Anyway with that all said and done, I thought that maybe I should just stay home and let the rest of the day ride out fine. I didn't and it didn't. I did find my keys. Yes, the mailman brought them to me! Apparently I left them at the mailbox. Seems like a good place, no? Soo... I went to my horse riding lesson fully prepared to get maimed or worse judging by the rest of the day. (there was more, but I don't want to list ALL of the annoying things as I don't have that much time) I did not end up in the ER, but as I was leaving at 9:15, I went to open the truck door, and what did I find? A locked door! Oh yes! I locked the dang keys in the truck! This is where the previously mentioned hysteria kicked in, and I thought it appropriate that my day started out screwed up because I couldn't keep track of my keys, that it should also end up screwed up because of it. Needless to say, I had to get Jack to drive way the heck out to where I was to bring me keys which was something that he found way less amusing than my earlier problem. In truth, I could say that he was downright ANGRY!!

In conclusion, I've decided that I am not always a fan of symmetry. In fact, sometimes, it really sucks!

Weed Update

In case you care, (as if you were busily fretting about my weeds) we have won the battle! "We are the champions, my friends..." Anyway, just when I thought I was going to have to rent some goats and stake them out in the front yard, they just started to die. Apparently the poison was very slow acting and snuck up on them. Really, I don't care how it worked, I am just so dang grateful it did! Now I can walk through the neighborhood with my head high! I do think that the goat thing would have been fun though! That would be until the HOA caught wind and fined us up the arse! (Ha! Ha! I said arse!) That, would be way no fun. :( But then we could stake goats out in their yard for a surprise! That would be fun! I just think that goats are fun! They like to nibble...

Procrastination Tag

I was tagged to discuss what I have in common with Procrastination. I have to say that Procrastination and I are bedfellows; the best of friends. I can't remember a time that we haven't been together... Sometimes we get into trouble together, because not everyone understands us. Those are the people that discriminate against my companion, Procrastination. We do get alot done, though maybe not when we should. Therein lies the problem...

I tag Rochelle and Aundrea to discuss their relationship with Procrastination. I promise not to get jealous if you too love him as much as I.