what to do, what to do

...when you receive an hour's grace from work?

The boy has also survived an ant attack. He got bit 4 times, however and I can only sympathize with the having of one.

He was riding his bike and didn't notice the ant hill because it wasn't very big. When his front tire went through the hill, the soft dirt sucked him down. He said he fell and then stood right back up because of the ants and they were already swarming all over his shirt, he naturally freaked and got them all off but a couple three or four made it up into his helmet and got him where his chin strap lay and up under the back part, right at his hairline. Poor little love.

When his cousin came running to me to tell me what had happened, my heart almost exploded. I was scared and running before I knew it, aghast at what condition I would find him in. Luckily, it was only a few bites, but even with one, you're uncomfortable for hours afterward because any time any thing touches it, it fills like stinging nettle has swiped across your skin. And the only thing that helps is ice. The Benadryl helps after 5-6 hours, especially if you've just eaten, right before the 'incident', but ice is the key.

And with the bites being all around his head, he had a hard time, finding a position in which to sleep and remain asleep and would wake up crying for the ice. So, my reprieve from work was granted because the boy was still asleep and needed a little extra rest.

Of course, five minutes after I got off the phone, the water truck drove by and the eyeballs of my son popped wide open.

the end to a withering kind of day

There it is, the sun as it goes down. The thunder clouds have been building and receding for the last couple of days. They build up and smother us in humidity and then blow away. It has NOT been pleasant.

We survived the weekend, barely. Prone to fits of rage and pure irrationality, myself, when bathed in sweat and baked by the sun, I don't know how any of us escaped unscathed. Only one of the motel rooms had an air conditioner and it is quite accurate to say that we slept in the bowels of hell as it's the only place I can think of that might be comparable in uncomfortability. But the bull riding was cool and I danced so much that Monday, I could barely move without wincing (it always takes 2 days, in my case, for serious muscle aches to set in after over exertion). And all-in-all, I label it a success. Memories. Not all pleasant, but there, nonetheless.

I meant to post a birthday post for the boy about the memories I have of him and all that flashes before my eyes at each birthday, but time and heat have a way of making sure that I don't. I will do it sometime this week.

The neighbor, who remains his normal, undersexed self, has been spending more evenings of late, over here. Mostly complaining, but chatting and laughing as well. We've come to a place where I can forgive him for hurting me, but I will never forget how badly he wounded me and how he cared so little that he had. He showed me a side of himself, that I, nor any of us, thought might be there and in doing so, made sure that I would never find him attractive or in any way appealing again. A friend of ours brought it up the other day "D and you would make such a cute couple". To which I replied "No, the handsome boy and I would make such a cute couple" And then I explained to her that if I was in ANY way attainable for him (D), he wouldn't even look at me twice, except for to bum cigs or hit on me when no one else was available. I've walked that path before and a Trail of Tears, it undoubtedly is. Nothing but hurt lies in that particular direction and I refuse to subject myself as well as the kid to it again. However, the man will always be a close friend of mine just because when he isn't whining or spewing vitriol, he is so full of life and so happy to just be who he is. He charms me. Not to the point that he literally sleeps in my bed anymore (for 2 years, the man slept with me and we had sex an astonishing total of twice throughout the whole time, the second time was just as bad as the first, if not worse). But he is always welcome in my home.

I have got to get to bed. I just didn't want you all to think I was sitting in the clink, somewhere, although, it did get close. When a drunk man that I was dancing with swung me out into the path of a drunk girl in a pink cowboy hat, she spewed "Well, fucking excuse YOU!" It took all I had to just roll my eyes and walk away. I was practically frothing at the mouth to give her (all 78 pounds less of her!) the ass whipping she deserved in order to teach the little snot some manners. But I took the high road and walked away. Later, I saw her being chased out the door by two cops, so apparently someone within the dance didn't have children and hadn't built up the amount of patience for ignorance that I possess.

Birthday portraits

There he is: My birthday boy. Tomorrow, he'll be five.

My God, isn't he adorable?

And here is Merce's daughter, my niece. Isn't she pretty?

She'll be 9 on the 27th.

a quick warning about nature

My internet seems to be experiencing PMS as well as yours truly and won't let me on at crucial points in the day. As in, it won't let me do anything when I have TIME.

Quick Posting during my Lunch Hour:

I seem to have communed enough with nature that the bugs are simply beginning to think maybe they should hang out with me. Since yesterday, I have experienced a wasp buzzing my hair, a spider crawling on the front of my shirt, a different spider falling out of my shirt and crawling down my wrist, this morning, a spider dropping in to say hello as I reached for my first (full) cup of coffee and landing right beside it and a fire ant who was so apparently fond of me that he bit me on the ass (Love bites are overrated, I'm beginning to think). Or right below it, really.

While they all bug (pun not intended) the hell out of me, the worst was the ant biting me. Naturally. The others did no harm except knock a few decades off of my life, because anyone who knows me knows that Lori and bugs in the near proximity do NOT mesh well. The bite.

Ohmyfuckinggod! It hurts. Take this to heart, dear readers, should you see a few fire ants, do not set down anywhere close. Go inside, surround yourself within a circle of Raid on the kitchen floor and resume your watch with trusty can in hand. I sat down on the steps, to air up the boy's tires on his new bike, thinking that I would be ok. Well, one brave, tiny fiery red soul braved the crawl up into my pants leg and sat in the sagging fold of denim behind my right thigh (upper part, adjacent to right butt cheek) and when I stood up, he took a hold and stayed there as if his life might depend on it. Did we know each other in a past life? Anyway, do not fear. Said brave soul has now been crushed to tiny, minute bits. But do be aware! There are many more out there! And when they bite you, it hurts. A LOT. My whole leg was afire (you think that is why they are named such??), a swollen, angry red area the size of my palm was immediately affected. I took some Benadryl and it helped. Ice, as well. I am in recovery and you all will be glad to know that I survived the Great Ant Invasion of Lori's Pants - 2006. It itches like the most maddening of mosquito bites and when I touch it (GOOD LORD!!! DO NOT SCRATCH IT!!!) it burns all the way down the back of my thigh.

But I am strong and internet willing, I will survive to return and post on something less gray-hair inducing. Thank you, in advance, for all of your concerns.

Papa in his chair

IM000327
Originally uploaded by lorinty2003.

Happy Father's Day! A photo of my own...

my own memories

When I think of my dad, I think of all that he is. He's hardworking and honest. A cowboy with a myriad of talents. He's compassionate and loves babies of all kinds. He's funny and serious and when you have pissed him off, he'll let you know. He can be hard and unapproachable, but it is mostly a facade. He's intelligent and one hell of a poker player. He's everything that I look for in a man and thus far, no one has measured up. There is no one like him. Well, with a small exception, which is in no way accurate, only brought up in anger: When my mom gets mad at me, she'll tell me I am just like him, meaning it to be an insult, but I always take it as a compliment and thank her for it. She, for some reason, is not amused by that and oftentimes, quits talking to me.

Growing up, our dad seemed to me to be often a hard and unforgiving man. Looking back, I filter through memories and he was always gone or when he was home, he was too busy and too cranky to really spend much time with.

But now... The man is one of the closest people to me. He knows when I'm upset, he knows when I'm happy. Every morning he comes into the office, I give him time to settle in at his desk and when I go in, he's ready for our morning gossip sessions. It seems that I'm making up for lost time. I don't mean to sound like there are no memories of him that weren't special because there are many.

Him, lifting me up to show me a heart he carved into an aspen tree with 'Daddy's Little Girl' surrounding it and what must have been the date.

Him, holding me with one arm around my waist as we sped over the snow,riding a snowmobile and in pursuit of a coyote.

Asking him for money, at whatever outdoor function we might be at (mostly rodeos) and him, correcting me until I automatically said 'May I?' instead of 'Can I...?' and then, palming the coins and giving me his finger instead of money.

Standing next to him on the truck seat, crooning 'Let's all go to the Dairy Queen' in his ear and his love of Peanut Buster Parfaits.

Him, taking us to see the 'baby Jesus' at the Courthouse at Christmas because we couldn't leave town without see him!

Him, letting me drive to town, with Merce in the back seat, when I was fifteen.

Him, telling me on the way to church on the day I was to marry a man I shouldn't have "We can turn around and go home, right now, babe. If anyone has anything to say about it, I'll take care of it. You don't need to do this if you aren't sure."

Him, holding and comforting mom when his mother died, the only mother she ever really had, during the whole funeral.

Him, during the whole 4 day ordeal of Ty's birth and the look on his face when he held him, even before I did.

Him, letting the boy ride on his lap while they mow lawns.

Him, helping Ty on with the first pair of cowboy boots.

Him, GIVING the child his own cowboy hat, the first of many and so proud of the fact that the boy absolutely worships him.

I missed a lot of my dad, growing up. And now I get to experience the side of him that I always wanted when I was a child, through my own child.

And what I remember most, is that laugh. It wasn't and never has been a constant. But when it is present, all is right in my world. It's a contagious roar and merely thinking about it puts a smile on my face.

Happy Father's Day, Dad. I love you more than any words I write could show.

getting restless

Yes, yes, I am still here and alive, thank God.

I keep (kept) meaning to post about this and that and it just never gets done. Too much to do in the few hours I am home.

We came home on Tuesday and then on Wednesday, we turned around and went into town to go to the circus. I joked that I wanted to show the boy what a true circus is, not just the daily one he sees around here. Oh, how true that is!

The neighbor was over here tonight. He came over to brag about mowing my lawn and ask me how my trip went. Eventually, talk turned to Merce and her man and the goings-on there.

He got me to talking about how I am feeling about this stuff and I realized, just as the words were pouring forth from my lips, how sad and lonely I am for her. It seems like I've been pushed clear off the radar unless she needs milk or something. I feel like I've been dumped.

Oh sob. I know.

Traveling with 3 children should require a prescription. Seriously. Maybe a heavy duty, long lasting one. When you travel 6+ hours in a car with three children who go through various degrees of meltdown, inside of and outside of (namely IN a WalMart) the car, life gets a wee bit stressful. Poor kids. They were all so exhausted from the whole vacation. I knew I should have come back a day early, just to have one day for recovery. Not to mention it would have been one day less of staying up late, getting up early and playing all day at a level guaranteed to kill lesser people. I hope they all had a good time.

I did. It was nice to be away. From everything. People back talking and lying. From the small town snarkiness and gossips. To be in another bosom of the family, being taken care of and reading for hours on end. It was wonderful and restful and I'll be going back in August. Here lately, I've been considering making it a permanent move.

I'm not getting any younger people and if my younger sister's relationship is any indication of what I could expect, hooking up with someone local, I think I'll take Nevada. We'll just have to see how it all goes. Besides, there is SO much to do for the kids there, where my older sister lives. It blows me away. And there is hardly anything for them to do here. No wonder BzBiff is so stringent in her mothering. They should all be alcoholics or drug addicts, according to the environment. I might be just getting restless.

too many people in too small of a space make Lori a very irritable girl

Well, I made it. I am here, partially.

I feel like a train wreck. There are so many goddamned people around and so much to do and here and there and everywhere. We've been at a 'shoot' all day. Watching children shoot shotguns at clay pigeons. The boys, my nephews, were shooting, all day long. It was state finals, so there were buttloads of people around and all the kids were (are) tired from staying up last night. And of course, us backwoods rednecks aren't used to this kind of activity so we are all dragging ass.

I'm tired and beat up, sunburned to boot. But not nearly so bad as dear Rose. I hope you feel better soon, sweetheart. It sounds like you took quite the digger.

There were tornados, the day that I came. In Nevada. Good Lord, I am aware that you were trying to warn me away from a slow, tortuous death from trying to cram everything we want to do into 3 days. Thank you for the warning. But some things, you just gotta stick with and I know that older sister would never forgive me for turning tail and running. Thank you for the warning and please don't destroy her new house with a tornado. We'd all be so much appreciative, if you'd direct any and all destructive winds from here.
I must go. Children need to be wrangled in. My eyelids are heavy and they (older sister, brother-in-law and nephews) should be coming home. Guess I'll go and clean the mess I made when I made dinner. Sheesh, maybe I should have stayed the extra 3 hours and splurged on the $7/plate dinner, huh?

How pathetic is this?

The UPS lady told me that there was a reason that people are always being referred to 'hot toddies' whilst suffering from the flu. The alcohol raises your internal temp and kills or sweats out the virus. So here I sit, having consumed two heavily laced margaritas, crossing my fingers that I don't develop the stomach cramps and misery that foretells of this nasty virus that is sweeping our apartment complex.

Cross your fingers, say a little prayer, not only that it works, but also that I may not become a raging alcoholic while trying to ward off vile germs...

have a nice day

I really don't have anything to post. Of course, I hardly ever do.

I am also watching My Super Sweet Sixteen. And as always, have the attention span of a gnat. Especially when these girls of an oh-so-tender age get to spouting off about how unfair it is that 2 girls showed up at their 500 person affair that weren't invited. I tend to actually despise these spoiled little snots, but you never know. That's why I watch. The eternal optimist. hehehe. Can't be that I am a total geek who has no life, could it?

Stomach flu has been making the rounds. Ty had it, Merce's 3 had it. And yesterday, I thought Ty had it again. I think that he just got too hot, actually. Because I got him home, stripped, lying on the couch on his multitude of towels. He slept and woke an hour later asking for dinner. Yep, just got too hot.

We're heading out to my older sister's house on Friday morning. As of this moment, I have NOTHING done. I have an entire house of laundry that needs to be washed, folded and put away and yet, here I sit, plodding along on blogger.

I am tired. I have been tired for weeks. I feel like I am constantly trying to catch up on sleep. I wake up tired, I die at night. And yet, I am still dragging ass. I think I may need to start taking vitamins again. I also need to start exercising again. No real weight gain as of yet, but that won't last forever. I think it has something to do with my lack of energy, as well. I'm pretty much sure of it. Blood pressure is still low and in a good spot. But sometimes, I feel like it's going up, especially when it's really hot. My older sister says that it's been in the upper nineties. Wonderful. I am going to keel over from the heat. Hopefully, I won't expire from a heart attack or a stroke and will return early next week to update.

Have a nice weekend, all!!

Funny(scary) story part deux

Another Sunday. Gentle afternoon breezes blowing the curtains out into the room. Plentiful sunshine. Birthday parties. Ahh, summer is flirting with us here in SE Oregon.

As promised... Part 2

So, the questions floated upon the agitated air... 'Shall I turn tail and run for my life? If so, would it be wise to actually turn my back on this animal?'

I backed up the slick steps, one at a time. Slipping once or twice, humiliation and anger burning acid upon my tongue. I know, I know, wimp. I was beyond incensed at this point. Ranch girls don't get run off by mere animals, for crying out loud! BUT a plan had started to flicker inside my otherwise stunned senseless brain. I had a brand new bottle of Windex in the house. Anyone with cats knows that ammonia makes for quite the deterrent and put ammonia into a spray form and BINGO! We have ourselves a handy little weapon.

So, the battle commenced and I used the entire bottle on him. First, I dumped it on him, a sneak attack from above. He wasn't predicting that, in fact, I think he was still setting in the spot I left him, chortling to himself over stupid girls. I opened the before mentioned window, leaned out over the platform and dumped a quarter of it on his head. Whooo buddy, he was beside himself. Spitting, hissing, he turned and ran, only to stop when I laughed. Eyes slitted as he plotted my demise. It was a good thing I could duck back into the window and slam it shut because I was not putting it past him to leap to the platform and plaster himself to my face as was no doubt his plan. All the good it did was to move him a yard or so away from the tree and out of dumping range.

So I had to go out and actually spray it at him. I spray enough at him that I get him to the corner of the house, far enough away that I am feeling I might have a chance at getting the fricking cat out of the tree. I backtracked to the tree until my back was pressed against it, not daring to take my eyes of the great white one as I reach up to the cat. At that point, I had to chance it and turn towards the tree because apparently, when I was so irresponsible and left the cat outside, she had found my hidden supply of SuperGlue and glued herself to the tree. I would pull on her from her belly and the only thing that would move was some fur. She was NOT coming down from that tree to face the demon and I can't say that I blame her. He was just a tad too much man for anyone. As I was attempting to peel her off of the bark, I heard the crunching of leaves coming up behind me. Instantly, my heart was in my throat and I was saying the Lord's Prayer because I knew that the end was near.

Cradling the idiot animal that got me into this mess, I turned. Hysteria working it's way up. In my mind's eye, I see all the white fur surrounding his red eyes. **Editors note: Looking back, it's very probable that said animal DID NOT have red eyes. Although, his character traits more than made up for the cosmetic loss of evil, devil eyeballs** So slowly I moved because the first rule in dealing with any kind of wild animal is to move slowly so that they don't perceive you to be a threat. However, I have already proved that while I might not be a major one, I am some sort of threat to the probability of the demon spawning.

And there stood the child. My sweet innocent boy. I was afraid for his mortal soul! And screaming at him to get his ass in the house RIGHT FUCKING NOW! It does not occur to me until much later that the boy came from around the front of the house and therefore, had to have come across Satan. I spent the night alternately waking him up to make sure he wasn't speaking in tongues or a demon voice, checking his pupils and studying him for any signs of possession.

The wicked animal, who now senses that he has lost the battle, is slithering around the corner, calling to Twitch. He is all sweetness and light and actually SIMPERING at her. Coquettish in manner and black at heart. Isn't that just like a man?

a funny story

There is so much banging around in my otherwise empty head, I might easily become overwhelmed.

However, I do have a post for you. I have saved a funny story for you all that I wanted and had planned to post from the addin. But for some stupid reason, the Microsoft Word add-in for Blogger won't work for me ::hmph::

So I must type this whole thing out and I am tired.

It started one September eve. Rainy, cold, wind blowing at it's normal 'seasonal' hurricane force here in SE Oregon. My dainty, delicate wee kitty, Twitch, was in heat and I was coming verily close to bouncing her off of the wall to make her shut the hell up. For that reason, although a good enough one on it's own (is there a worse noise in the universe?). But also to put an end to her backing up to my then 3 year old, innocent boy who really found it quite amusing to scratch her just at the spot where her tail joined her body because "She looks so weird when she stands like that, Mom!".

Finally, I opened the door and through a series of complex ninja-like moves and lightening fast reflexes I tossed her out the door, simultaneously slamming said door behind her. Coming up on 5:30 p.m., I realized that I had left her outside for two hours. At this time, it's rather apparent that she will be soaked through and through (bucket of rain, anyone?) and tenuously holding on to a slightly higher than a 'probable chance', she'll be very knocked up.

I went to the dining room window, opened it a smidgen because I really didn't want to drown, myself, and called for her. Nine times out of ten, she'd jump up on the air conditioner support that sat there and come through the open window (after I'd opened it to at least 4.25 inches, she wasn't that wee or dainty). But no.

Directly across from me, she was up in the tree, howling like an innocent child possessed by something so frightful as to make the hair on the back of my neck stand up. Little did I know that what I was soon to come face-to-face with was eerily close, but not quite of a demonic child sort of situation. (I don't think. Time and a couple of miles of distance have blunted the sharp edges, a bit). So, in a mood, I threw myself about, looking for suitable footwear. Pissed at the stupid animal because she wouldn't come down out of the fucking tree and still howling like the neighbor is after her with a butcher knife. **Again, time has softened most of it a bit, but knowing the neighbor as I do now, I wouldn't say for sure that he wouldn't go on a bit of that sort of rampage... Thank God that the little prick has moved away**

Anyway, she had pulled this before, this cat, who as a youngster, would climb up drapes and loll about on the rods. Or when feeling especially adventurous, she would reach out and hang from a three and a half inch planter hook a foot away, thus rendering herself STUCK. So, I was mad. I went out to get her, throwing a fit at her Southern Belle antics. It was pouring rain, of the bucket variety. I was walking through 6 inches of wet leaves in flip-flops. Leaves were clinging mightily to any available patch of bare leg they might adhere to. Did I mention the cut off shorts? The leaves felt like leeches, unwilling to give up their patch of neon white skin. There I am, flouncing along, mad as hell, preparing the speech I am about to give her (oh, a single woman and her cat!) about the perils of hanging about in trees while 6 inches of water are pelting down and describing the dangers of slumming around with males who would actually be out in that kind of weather! and something growled at me.

This wasn't a 'was that a growl or wasn't it?' sort of growl. This was the deep in the throat, demonic, if you take one more step, I will eat your face off and possess the soul of your child for the next 100 years sort of growl.

Anger, weather, neighbors going blind from catching a peripheral glimpse of my pasty whites, Twitch - all wiped completely out of my mind.

What the hell? There, in the semi-darkness, was the biggest fucking domestic cat I have ever seen, on TV or in real life. I have seen fully grown cow dogs that were small compared to this animal. It had long, white, wet fur sticking out all over the place, lending it a slightly electric look (as in: it had been hit by lightening and lived, solely, to tell all of it's inbred, backwoods, cross-eyed cousins the tale before he chopped them up with an axe and ate them). And it was positioned for attack.

At first, I copped an attitude. All bravado and 'fuck you, fuckin' male cats all hanging around my house because of one stupid bitch cat, blah, blah, blah'. Simple muttering to keep myself from hysteria because I have looked into the eyes of the Devil, people! Bravado was to quickly fall to the wayside, however, because I rapidly realized that for every step I took, the 'great white one' would leap towards me about a foot (or was he floating?).

It occured to me that A: This cat demon is trying to stay between Twitch and myself, B: It is surely all male and C: If I am stupid enough to take on a horny male cat who has caught the scent and is bound and determined to eat my face off so that he may commence trying to knock one off with the fey Twitch, then it is questionable as to whether I am intelligent enough to raise a child.

I am stuck. Partially in fear, partially due to the fact that I am infuriated at the thought of being bested by a fucking cat.

So, I picked up the first thing that caught my eye. Of course, it wasn't a rake or a double barrel shotgun, complete with silver bullets. No, it was a rope, although it did have a rather large knot in the end. I picked it up and the enemy inched forward. I swung it at him and the little bastard side-steps it, shooting me a rather belittling look at my best attempts at defense against the unnatural. It was looking bad. He was gaining ground, while I was quickly handing it to him on a silver platter. I was, in unconscious self-preservation, backing up. Until then, I hadn't noticed that the backs of my legs were touching the bottom stair.

The only thing going through my head at that point was "What the hell are you still sticking around for, you idiot girl? RUN!! Save yourself!! Life will be terrible for the boy with a mother who has no face due to a maniacal, amorous feline animal!! RUUUUNNN!"

K, I'm tired. Story to be continued...