Catching Up, Heading Out

Today, I am officially on vacation. Thank God.

My sister arrived last Wednesday (today is Tuesday) and I don't think we've hit the standard bedtime, once. We started partying Thursday and didn't stop until Sunday. That might sound like a short bit of time for most of you, but for us old ladies that go to bed at 9:00 on the weekdays and only stay up a tad bit later during the weekends, THAT IS A LONG time.

There were bar fights, a rodeo in triple digit heat, cowboys galore, a Civil War re-enactment, lots of grubby little boy faces, a few tears, aching feet and $70 in tips.

My sister, BzBiff and I worked at the bar on Saturday night, pouring drinks to the already intoxicated. The benefits of being sober while working at a bar full of drunk cowboys are self explanatory. There was lots of Wrangler watching. Of course, the drunker a cowboy is, the more he flirts and naturally, that's always FUN FOR ME.

The boy showed his true nature this weekend. I tried to warn my sister, and yet, she did not believe that he is a spawn of Satan. He had a good weekend. He met his great-grandfather on his dad's side. They spent oodles of time together and by the time his ggf left, they were completely enamored with each other. Ty spent lots of time at the chutes, pushing cows and of course, he was in his element. He spent almost all of the time at the rodeo there behind the chute, hot shot in hand, until his Papa made him leave. He was quite disgruntled that Papa made him leave just when the roping horses were coming up the alley. Yes, we watched cowboys rope horses. An exciting event.

Anyway, it was dusty and dirty and long and hot and while I was somewhat snippy most of the weekend, I wouldn't trade it for anything. Making memories. I adore having my sister here. Especially now that we have the truck and we can cruise along in the twilight, watching the sun go down and enjoying the soft quiet of the country. I think she likes it, too.

And now, I am off to Nevada for a couple of days before I head to Mormon country for family reunion. I am so glad to have a few days off so that I can readjust to normal life. These crazy weekends screw me up so bad, I am pretty much a walking zombie.

I will be back in a week. Toodles.

Good times

My older sister is here and the partying commences for the weekend. We have an annual festival celebrating the blood sucking efforts of a certain bug to attend to.

Really, it is just an excuse to get together and drink and dance and have a rodeo/horse roping.

It started last evening. After my sister got here (her air conditioning froze up and quit working about and hour and a half away from here) we went to the bar for dinner. They serve some awesome pizza. While we were there, two gentlemen came in for dinner. They sat behind us and at first, all was well. But when you are in a little town in a little bar that is bustling busy while normally there are only 5 people or so in there and most of them are drinking, not eating, it is best to remember that they are doing the best that they can.

These older men that were sitting behind us proceeded to drink 3 beers each and then they got obnoxious. They started harassing the waitstaff about "goddammit, we've been here for an hour and haven't got our food while people who arrived after us have gotten theirs." I tried to talk him down and tell him that we all know what it is like to be busy and most people will call in their orders before they come in because they know how long it is going to take. He shut me down and proceeded to piss of all of the people who were working there PLUS the owners. In fact, when we left, the man that owns it who is, by no means, a shrinking violet, came out the door and wanted to know where those two old men were. I would have paid good money to see the expression on that old codger's face when Tom confronted him about his behaviour.

As it was, we had some good food, we were joined by good friends and while we were eating, our dinner and drinks was paid for by another friend of ours who I've been trying to write off because he is just so damn flaky and... chameleon-like. I have a hard time respecting people who change to suit everyone else.

It was a good night and we'll probably be back in there tonight so that Miss can play pool.
She even has a special glove that I thought (seriously) was a Barbi outfit.

A good friend.

Last night, my friend Clint called me. His car had broke down some many miles from town and he needed a ride. He hated calling me. I could tell that just by the tone of his voice. He told me that he had called the bunkhouse, hoping to get one of them up and around to come and get him, but they never answered the phone. I told him I would be right there.

Anyone who knows me knows that I dread driving at night. I just can't see and although the new glasses help, I still feel like I am going to smash into a deer at any given moment. I creep along. Slow enough to piss every one off but too fast for my own comfort.

I almost hit three deer standing in a cluster in my lane. Not only did I narrowly miss smearing the deer but I was almost ran over by some dumb ass in a huge truck carrying a fifth wheel camp trailer who didn't even slow up.

Clint was thankful and appreciative and humble. He is always so humbled by the fact that anyone would actually go out of their way to help him. He always acts like he is so undeserving of it and it breaks my heart. He kept telling me that I didn't need to come out in the dark to get him, that he would have found a ride home. He finally quit his rambling when I asked him if he would have come for me. I know that he would. I know that all I need to do is ask and he will do whatever he can to help. He just really is a good friend.

He has helped me move. He has listened to me rant and rave about various and sundry. He has made me laugh when I couldn't stop crying. He has been there for me and never asks for anything in return. He is a gem.

What is it that makes a good friend? I suppose it must be different for everybody.

For me, a good friend should reflect the truth about myself as graciously and compassionately as possible. A good friend will realize the difference between what I want and what I need and will make me recognize the difference as well. A good friend will help me when I am desperate enough to ask because a good friend would recognize that it must be desperate in order for me to ask.

I am fortunate that I have several people in my life that I consider a real friends. Some are family, some aren't blood but considered family, all the same.

To them, I say thank you, for the rides, the shoulders, the laughs, the helping hands and the advice. I hope that I have returned the favor.

the first time

My son woke up this morning with a kinked neck.

It's his first time. He is convinced that he is going to fall apart and that maybe, he should go to the hospital.

I feel so bad for him. How do you tell a six year old to move his head around as much as he can so that the kink will be relieved? It sounds ridiculous to me and I am 30. When I told him that he would have to move his head around to get rid of the kink, he looked at me like I was ... intelligently stunted. 'Move it around so that it hurts more?' Poor guy.

Yesterday, we spent the afternoon swimming and I am really quite proud of the boy. He is trying so hard and when he comes up gasping for air with sinus cavities full of chlorine, he gags and retches and blows snot and then jumps right back in. This summer, at daycare, the kids all went to swimming lessons in a town nearby and it really shows in my niece. She moves like a fish.

Today, I get another office boy. The regular one is in California, broke down. He can't get parts for his truck until Wednesday so he'll be back on Thursday. The new one is the old one, if you all follow that.

The new/old one is my friend that broke his neck in a car accident, thus rendering him unable to ride horses for a couple of months. This time, he was bucked off onto some rather hard ground and broke a rib. He thought he had a back injury but what happened was the rib broke off next to his backbone. So he'll be in the office with me and the other one for a while, I think. He is hoping to go back to work on Thursday. Amazing what these guys will do just to get back up on the horse.

Oh, and the office boys? They both have the same first name.

By the way, the thousand and one flies have reproduced to eleventy billion and my friggin' fly swatter broke. Not good seeing as how the store is OUT of fly swatters. Nice.

a night in the life of lorinty

Last night, I went out shooting rabbits with Merce and her man. Actually, there wasn't a whole lot of shooting to be done. I think S shot at one rabbit.

Really all we did was drive around and listen to music (I have my XM set up in my truck!). We rocked out to Bee Gees and Poison. We laughed a bit. Drank a bit.

Then we went to the bar.

This is how a night at the bar for Lori is.

After approximately the second drink, the phone will ring. It will be the boy wanting to know if I am ready to come home yet. Repeat after the fifth, eighth, and every drink thereafter. Although to be honest, I only drank like 4 last night and he called me like ... four or five times.

I listened to the same old stories. Met a poor kid with dread locks that was subjected to small town rednecks gawking and being mildly offensive regarding his choice of hairstyle. He was very nice and refused to let anyone get to him. I thought he was a sweet heart. The post mistress informed him that something is "dead in Delaware" when she caught scent of his hair. Really, I smelled his hair and it didn't stink to me and I have a more sensitive sniffer than most. I don't know if she thought it really stank or if she was just being obnoxious.

I met a cowboy all of 21 who was awfully proud of himself. The cowboys who brag about themselves really make the worst impressions. And from what I hear, he is more of a buckaroo than a cowboy. Which basically points at "all hat and no cattle".

So yeah. My life is boring and tame and I relish it. There is nothing like watching the sun go down from the front seat of a pickup singing along with the Bee Gees to "Stayin' Alive".

Oh, and this is a relief. I saw Tammy Faye on Larry King the other day and while I never was a fan or anything, it did break my heart to see her so small and shriveled with the heart of a lion. She was so cute talking about wanting to bite into a big juicy cheeseburger. I wish she could have had just one before she died. Poor thing.

chasin' that dollar

I signed up for another money making venture. I am sure that this one will yield a return, if only in the things I buy for myself.

I'm very hopeful that this will be a productive venture.

The product pretty much sells itself. I've tried much of it myself and LOVE it. One of these days when I am all set up, I will point you to my site so that you may order for yourself.

I spent the day fretting and worrying about money. How much of it will I have left after grocery shopping? Should I pay bills first and then grocery shop with what is left over? How will I budget to make the one BIG payment I have for next time?

Being a single parent, raising a kid with fairly snobby cowboy taste is not easy. It's not like I can go and get him pants from the thrift store. He is a bit pretentious for that. I know, I know. I put up with a lot from him. He is only 6 after all.

But I get where he is coming from. I've always been a bit of a label snob, myself.

So, hopefully, money will start being less of a worry and quit giving the boy a run for title-holder of giving mom the most gray hair.

I will have to step out of my box, a bit and put myself out there in a 'salesperson' type of manner, but I think that I am charming and engaging enough, I can manage it.

Wish me luck.

the neighborhood mom

Have any of you been the neighborhood mom?

It's expensive and I am so broke, it's not even funny. These children, they eat and eat. And one night this week, one little boy puked from eating so many of my treats.

I am the neighborhood mom. I have a thousand and two flies to prove it. At any given time, during a summer day, I have at least two kids wondering through my house, leaving whichever door they entered through wide open.

They all come here for a drink or a snack or to take a breather in the A/C. Maybe they come here to rescue the flies that are waiting patiently at the door, like little pets wanting to come in after an all nighter.

And I let them.

I never intended on being the neighborhood mom. I figured that it would be exhausting and spendy. But all the kids, well, they enjoy it here. And I am finding that I enjoy them coming to me to tell me about their little discoveries or how high they jumped on their bike. I feel needed when they come to me for a band-aid or a hug.

After a weekend spent at home with a revolving door of children going in and out, work is my vacation. After spending two days playing referee to multiple children and telling them that there really is no reason for them to scream while indoors ("It's not like I live in a huge mansion on the hill, guys. Really, I promise. Ty CAN hear you from across the room when you are only speaking vs. YELLING AT THE TOP OF YOUR LUNGS!!"), I look forward to the cool quiet at work.

And then there are the days when the boy goes to work with me. Oh. My. God. Vacation over.

At least, being neighborhood mom, he has choices of where to go and what to do and I think that is the reason I relish most about being neigborhood mom: All those children? They play with him and he leaves me alone.

Reaching Back

I wish I had my camera. I left it at work because the office boy was going to use it and he has forgotten for two days in a row now.

The vista tonight is amazing. Dark, lazy clouds rising up from behind the mountains. Meeting a sky that is robin's egg blue. With the sun peeking out at the eastern edge of the storm. It would make a nice picture and if it weren't the middle of July, I'd be thinking that we were in for a snowstorm.

I've been researching my dad's family the last couple of days and I can trace him clear back to Charlemagne, (and further to **Arnulf of Metz**) which I thought was cool until my dad pointed out that more than half of the world can probably be traced back to Charlemagne in some way, shape or form.

There is a sense of grounding for me in all of this research. The realization of just how far back part of my DNA can be pointed out to me is incredible. It's amazing to look at all of these names and picture their lives. Knowing that they are part of... well, me. I feel a sense of a familial tie to just the names and most of the names have no history attached to them, and yet, I wonder about them. Who they were, did they love their spouses and children? Did that one guy REALLY die on the day that he got married or was it a screw up in the research? What about the one lady that has the same birth day as mine, only 250 years earlier, what was she like?

I've always liked history and I am finding I really like the research. I have been immersed, totally in it for the last two days. I like finding out where they came from and who they were. I want to find out more and I am starting to think that this is going to turn into a HUGE project.

**I had NO IDEA who Arnulf of Metz was until I got to the last of this research and then, it hits a dead end. Hell, I didn't really have an idea of who Charlemagne was. OK, I had an idea, but I didn't really know...

Loyal... or stupid?

I just got finished working out for an hour. I get so burned out on this shit. I bust my ass and bust it and yet, my ass has not decreased. Ok, it does. I have to work really freaking hard to lose maybe 4 pounds in 2-and-a-half months. If I DO lose 4 pounds, it is quickly replaced should I try to quit smoking or take a break so that I don't get burned out. I do get burned out pretty quickly, though. So I suppose that I should only be losing 4 pounds. I don't know. I eat fairly healthy. I try and eat my fruits or veggies every day and generally try and keep the fat content and calories down. I work out at least 30 minutes a day four/five days out of the week (many times, doubling that) and yet.... I just keep hanging in.

I live in a small town. A VERY small town. There are no available men for a responsible single mom here. I develop friendships with men and hope to try and make something more of it in time, but it always ends up friends. For one reason or another. And yet... I just keep hanging in.

I look at my son. He, here lately, has become a huge social concern for me. He calls me names, is prone to awful fits and the 'I hate you!!'s and he doesn't seem to be socially functional. Hopefully, it's his age and not the fact that I am a single mom who doesn't have a clue as to what she is doing. And yet, I just keep hanging in.

Do we see a pattern here? Is it that I am loyal or stupid?

My Stray Cat...

I inherited a cat from one of the oldsters in town. The people, they were settling into a nursing home and needed a home for their cat.

I assumed that the cat had been an integral part of the family. She is *ahem* well fed and mannerly. She is sweet and the only issue I have with her is that she has a sensitive stomach and if she eats to fast, she purges withing minutes. I wonder if she is doing it in an effort to become a dainty, svelte kitty like my beloved Twitch. I found out later that she was just a stray that they had taken in.

My dog has dry skin. The poor thing will scratch and chew at a part of her own skin until it bleeds. So, I give her a bath (translated to= I wrestle her into the tub, spray her and myself down, get SOME of the medicated shampoo on her and hope desperately that when I wash her off, I'm getting it all) with a medicated shampoo designed to relieve some of her 'doggy itch'.

My son, knowing what a travesty it is when animals scratch and chew their fur until they bleed, saw our hefty cat scratch behind her ears a few times.

One night, Ty was supposed to be taking a shower. I was talking on the phone to my older sister and listening to the shower run. Thinking that for ONCE, my son went ahead and got in the shower like a good boy would do, I blabbered on to my sister and thanked God for small miracles.

Then I heard the cat making the most horrifying noise, like she was about to erupt in projectile vomiting or an alien might be making it's way out of her plush, white belly.

I went looking for her all through the house, never once suspecting that my angelic child who was supposedly showering like his mother had insisted that he do, might have trapped said feline in the bathroom. Side note: he has a tendency to trap the animals in the bathroom with him in an effort to bond, I suppose. That or he's just a brat and enjoys their suffering. Welcome to today's topic: Axe Murderers: Childhood- the birth of a psycho.

As I passed the bathroom door, that cat let loose another squall and I stopped dead in my tracks, knowing to the marrow of my bones that I would not be impressed with what was behind door number one.

I nudged the door open, carefully, on the lookout for flying fur and claws. What I saw when the door was open is an image that will forever stay with me and one that I will draw forth when I think MY day has gone awry.

My son, standing in all of his little boy, pale fish skin, naked glory was holding my 20+ pound cat at the armpits, her feet dangling to the floor. Her face was a mixture of "I can't believe the mistreatment that I am receiving" and "If you don't do something about this RIGHT NOW, I will eat the face of this child!"

That poor cat. She looked like...

Only she looked MORE pissed. Like a demon being exorcised.

My angel child had thrown the cat in the shower, not once, but twice and the evil little shit had nary a mark on his see-through white skin.

Poor kitty. She suffered a great humiliation at the hands of the boy and it was made worse by the fact that when she came out to the living room and the dog tried to clean her up and make it better.

Friday the 13th

I asked my new office boy if he was superstitious and he said 'no'. Strange, how many people are.

I've always considered 13 to be a lucky number and Friday the 13th to be a good day.

I suppose it's just the rebel in me.

Ty and I took the new truck out for a drive tonight. We drove along the river and several dirt roads. There is nothing like driving on a dirt road at dusk, the dust drifting behind. Don't get me wrong. I hate dust. It affects my allergies like none other and before I know it, while I am traversing a dirt road, I'll be mouth breathing. It isn't until I swallow that I realize how much dust my mouth has acquired.

I do love living here, in Oregon's Outback. I like the freedom and wide open spaces. I like the easiness of it all.

My older sister says that she can feel herself slowing to our 'pace' when she's been here for a day or so. In order to understand that comment, you must first understand my sister. She used to yell at me for not rinsing all of the soap residue out of the kitchen sink after I washed dishes. (I still rinse all of the soap bubbles out.) She is constantly running hither and yon. She coaches, runs a business, shuffles children, is a league director for the Elko AYSO. She always has more than a full plate. She has a heaping full serving platter (to my way of thinking, anyway). And when she comes here, it's like she is shedding that other person, the 'soccer mom' who is in a rush, rush, rush ALL of the time. She finally gets to slow down and breathe. She enjoys the scenery and the laziness of it all. Of course, if she lived here, she'd be in an institution within 2 years from the idleness of it all.

Me, I'm more laid back and easygoing. I'd rather sit at home and watch TV, clean house, bake some bread, laundry, whatever. A night on the computer with the TV in the background and the boy softly buzzing his trucks around the living room floor is a perfect Saturday night. Some call it lazy, I call it enjoying my life. I could never live the way that she does. By the time I come home from her house, I am usually ready for a vacation because my poor, old, fat body isn't used to all of that activity.

I like my laid-back, dusty, sunset gazing life.

Most of the time.

Differences of Religion

I was surfing around on the internet and found this 'mommy' blog.

This particular entry made me stop and think.

This weeks topic: If your child wants to study, learn and participate in a religion that is quite a bit different than what you have brought them up in, how do/would you react? What would you say to them and would you allow them to do as they wish in their searching?

My thought is that if Ty wanted to study, learn and participate in a religion quiet different than my own, I would support him as long as he was earnest in his faith. As in, not copy catting someone to fit in. If he really believed, I would do my best to support him, as long as he respects me and my faith.

I was raised in and around the Mormon faith. My dad's family is faithfully Mormon and while I disagree with a lot of what they practice and preach, there is a lot to the Mormon faith that I respect and admire.

I'd like to believe that I am a well rounded person and I believe that everyone has the right to their own religion. I try to respect their decisions and their faith, as long as they give the same respect right back.

However, if someone preaches AT me about how I am wrong in my beliefs and wrong in my decisions about my faith, I shut off.

I would never do that to the boy. Unless maybe he decided that he was an atheist, and I would TRY not to preach at him about God or anything to that effect, but I would question him until I was convinced that he was convinced and then I HOPE that I would be able to accept his decision, try to at least.

And I would tell him that if he truly believes, then to study it and immerse himself in it. If it was Wicca, Hinduism, Mormon, whatever his choice was, I would want for it to be the right decision for HIM.

Of course, you want them to believe as you believe. When you are Christian and accept Jesus as your Savior and acknowledge him as such - like I do - then you would hope that his belief would follow your own so that he may rest in Heaven alongside of me.

But in the end, I want him to do for himself and if that means that I have to quietly turn away while he kneels and prays to Allah, then I shall.

Well, scratch PayPerPost...

I WAS REJECTED!!!

 

Apparently, I didn't meet their standards. Oh well.  They did tell me to come back when I did meet their criteria.  But the sting of rejection will probably prevent me from extending myself in their direction again.

 

Within the space of 2.5 months, I've been rejected twice.  One by a man in real life and the last by...  a website.  My life is pathetic.

Making money...

Life isn't easy from where I am sitting.

So I decided to try and make some money online. I joined several pay per post websites and Bloggerwave was the first one that I found that I could actually find a posting opportunity to post on. Granted, at the moment, there are only two opportunities and I'll be using one of those up. Hopefully, soon, they'll start rolling in and I can make at least enough money to buy myself a nice treadmill for Christmas.

Wish me luck!

Blech

I just feel blech today. The sky is all smoky and gray and if it were raining, then maybe it wouldn't be so bad. But it's just smoky and making my eyeballs itch and puff up. My sinuses are on fire and my throat hurts from the wildfires all around polluting my nice clean, country air.

Today, the new office boy came to work for half a day. I can already tell he's going to be climbing the walls within a week. Although, he does have a fondness for the computer, so maybe all is not lost. He cracks me up and guess what!? He's going to be in National Geographic next month. It will be fun, once we get used to each other.

That's about it for today. I am tired and cranky and PMS'y and have cried twice in the last two days. I think I need to up my Prozac prescription. Thank God for big cushy beds, sleep and margaritas. That's how I am finishing out my day.

I joined another one...

This one is Blogsvertise . 

 

Once you register, you add your blog for approval.  Your blog gets looked over and approved or denied.  Once / If you are approved, your blog is added to the list.  Then the administrator assigns you a writing task to complete about a website or product that you mention in a blog post.  You must link to it several times throughout the post.  The post will remain on your site, not to be deleted.  You can eventually request to earn more per posts. 

 

I am looking forward to this.  I always did like writing assignments in school.

 

Wish me luck!!

Losing my mind...

I have my own site http://www.lorinty.com/ that I am trying to set up so that if you click on it, you go straight to my blogger addy. Obviously, I am not cut out for this crap.... Working at it though. I refuse to give up until it all works. Or at least until the computer starts flashing bright red letters that read 'GIVE IT UP, IDIOT! YOU ARE GOING TO CRASH THE ENTIRE INTERNET WITH YOUR STUPIDITY!'.

This weekend had it's shares of ups and downs.

Friday, we had a huge lightning storm. And now we have the smoldering fires and smoky skies to show for it. I also got my ass chewed by my dad because the kids were home alone and I didn't think that it was lightning that badly. Well they did and though they never called me or their mom, they told Nana that they were scared and she, of course, told Papa. I am betting that somewhere along the way, the meter reading of how terrified they actually were got jacked up a bit.

Merce's bf's cousin came to town and apparently, he is an asshole. He really didn't make very many friends and almost caused Merce and Steve to split. Ahhh, the drama.

Saturday, Merce yelled at me for calling my dad to go and check on her (I was grocery shopping with my nonexistent funds). Her neighbor called, worried about the fighting and my nieces and Merce took off and blah, blah. High drama. All is well now, I guess.

Yesterday... well, it was off and on. I got my floors mopped (yay!) and watched a movie. Then, Ty and I took our truck out for a drive. We were about an hour and a half into it, when I started sweating and getting all worked up over not having a jack to change a flat tire. We were out 10 miles east of Egypt in very rocky terrain and honestly, the only living thing we saw were 6 antelope. The thought of being stuck out there with no cell service and flat tires, a slightly panic ridden child and a dog that hides behind me when strangers pull up had me a tad bit on edge. We prevailed, though. I drove slow and prayed that God would suffer us fools and whaddya know? We got home alright. Slightly disheveled, exhausted from worrying and more than a bit sweaty (air conditioning doesn't work in the truck), we arrived home safe and sound.

Thank God that I live in the place that I do. I think about it sometimes. The people that live in cities and one on top of another. How often do they wish they could live like I do? Yes, it's simple and oftentimes, it's more than a bit boring. But I can drive for three hours and not see anyone. I can look out my bedroom window as I fall asleep and see bright and shining stars. I can watch lightning dance along the butte from clear across the valley.

I could also be carried away by mosquitoes if I starve myself down to 100 pounds, but that's for a different post. I'm trying to appear positive here.

Some days, I'm very thankful. Some days, not so much. On those days, I'll have to come back and look at this post and remember how peaceful and right I feel about my place in my world, out here in the boondocks.

I signed up for Pay Per Post!

Just to let you all know, I signed up for Pay Per Post. 

 

It's a place that offers you compensation for posting about and linking to specified products and/or services.

 

I am really looking forward to this because, as you all know, I have a pretty hard time coming up with fodder for the blog and (hopefully) this will make it easier.

---

Building a website is a piece of cake.
Yahoo! Small Business gives you all the tools to get online.

Golden

Last night, I took Ty on his first camping trip. Needless to say, he is thoroughly exhausted and a complete butthead today. BUT... making memories, right?

What is it about the male species and fire? Particularly campfire? My son, being the 'man' he is, was obsessed with poking at the fire, sitting on his haunches gazing into it from a mere 8 inches away and completely pissed when the smoke would get in his eyeballs. At one point, curiosity got the better of that cat and he picked up an ember. Why, I have no idea. He found out pretty quick that it was REAL hot and has a mark on his finger to show for it.


This afternoon, with the temperatures quickly gaining on 100 degrees, we decided to test our fortitude and take a dip in a pool containing water that was slightly higher than freezing. My poor dog fell in and being the big scaredy cat she is, she took off for the OTHER end of the pool, eyes abulge and feet paddling faster than I thought possible. I could have drowned, I laughed at her so hard. Of course, the only thing worse than the water was the concrete that we stepped onto after our "Polar Dip". Lovely when, after lying on it for five minutes, it's still hot enough to fry little fat sausages on. 'Sausage' referring to yours truly.

I must have yelled, threatened and cursed at him a thousand times today. He has smashed his finger, burned the back of his hand (in a separate incident involving sparks flying everywhere - his doing), hit his head a hundred and one times and the boy, he can barely walk more than six feet without falling down.

It has been a long day, but it has been a beautiful day and I wouldn't have traded it for anything.

Some days are just.... golden.

Fourth of July

Happy Fourth of July!

Ty's birthday picture

What a handsome boy, no?

Instead of getting better...

I just keep getting worse about posting.

Anyway, I left off with Father's Day. My dad had a heart attack on Tuesday preceding Father's Day. It left us all a bit unnerved and emotional. I told him that it was nice to know that he really DOES have a heart, but really, proving it this way was a tad excessive, no?
It was scary and eye-opening and all that you could imagine it to be with the added bonus of my mom and us girls butting heads because, hey, guess what! Apparently, it's WAAAYYY worse to experience a loved one's heart attack when he is your husband instead of JUST YOUR FATHER. Bite me. He's my dad, one of my best friends, my boss, the only REAL father figure to my son, my hero. I know that it's different for her. I know that, I respect that and I acknowledge that. But the fact that he is YOUR husband in no way, shape or form negates all that he is to me. My fear and worry and stress is not any LESS than yours because he is your husband. Anyway, I'm still carrying around a little irritable-ness about that.

But anyway, he is fine. He says that he feels better than he has in eons. He's quit smoking. I tried to quit in support of him, but when my clothes quit fitting, I caved and went and bought a pack. I am half completely pissed at myself and half understanding. I don't know. It's a sore spot. But back to the matter at hand. He's fine, he now understands that *GASP* he IS mortal, after all. And he is listening to what his body tells him, finally. I can't even put into words...

Ty is SIX now. I have caught myself looking at how long his fricking legs are here lately and it constantly amazes me at how big he is getting. He's also turned into a complete shite heid and more often than not, I am threatening to strangle him and/or cut out his tongue for all of the back-talk he gives me.

And it is summer. Last night, the moon was amazing. The kids are in and out and the fly population in my house FAR outweighs the human population. The air conditioner is running and the mosquito bites are driving me fucking wild. Ahhh, summertime.