Life As I See It

I'm a wife, a mother, a day care teacher, a friend, a daughter, a sister. I wear lots of hats. And each and every one of them is weird. Does the fact that I freely admit I'm weird make me more or less weird?

Monday, February 06, 2006

And here it is after. Posted by Picasa

Here's my hair before. Posted by Picasa

Friday, February 03, 2006

I made yet ANOTHER blog. This time I made one from the same place. I'm really tired of posting from hello. No spell check, no going back to editing if and when I find a mistake in a previous post. Here's my new address: if that doesn't work try Posted by Picasa
My husband is having a bad day already. It's almost Monday-ish and it's Friday. C'mon, buddy, Fridays are good days. They are our friends. He started looking for a letter from the state board that he had to have to renew his journyman's license. He couldn't find it. "What'd you do with it? It was right here?" I don't touch his mail, I don't even get it out of the mailbox. He was starting to panic, I could tell. He was already late mailing it off, I don't know why he hadn't done it already, I guess he forgot. It was due in January. So, I go to the bedroom and sit, waiting on him to leave because I didn't want to go in there to start my breakfast while he was in there searching because I knew he'd try to chew me out for something he misplaced. I kept hearing him and his big dramatic sighs. It was 6:30 already and he was still here looking even though he's suppose to leave somewhere between 6:00 and 6:15. I finally took pity on him, and was wanting him to be on his way so I could eat without being harrassed. I started looking in the bedroom. I looked over on the night stand on his side of the bed and there was a pile of mail thrown on it with a mass of miscelaneous junk. I picked it up and started going through it. County commissioner tax info, better put that in a better place so we don't lose that. The very next piece of mail was his letter from the state board. It took me a whole 10, maybe 15 seconds to find it. Good golly miss molly. I walk in the kitchen with it and he says all down in the mouth "I can't find it, I don't know where it is. I don't know what I'm going to do." I hand it to him and don't say a word. He was all excited and asked me where I found it and when I told him he asked me why I moved it in there. What? I don't think so, pal. Then he says he has to get his check book so he can send them a check and he won't have to worry about it for another year. Well, he can't find his check book. I didn't realize that's what he was looking for or I would have told him right where it was. He came back in the kitchen all pissed off again and says "Forget it, now I can't find my check book" and I couldn't believe it. It was right there on the bar where he'd been looking for the letter. How could he not see that? I picked it up and said "What are you talking about, it is right here in plain sight!" He had the grace to look embarrassed and mummbled something about how he should just stay home today. As he was walking out the back door I told him if things didn't get any better for him today he should take off at noon, come home and go back to bed. I swear, the man couldn't find his butt with both hands. Posted by Picasa

Thursday, February 02, 2006

I love Rock-N-Roll, so put 'nuther buck fifty in the juke box, baby. hmmmmm...just doesn't have the same ring to it, does it? Posted by Picasa
Shael is spending the night with my brother tonight. I am going over their for a Bible study later. I don't want to go over there for that. What I'd really like to do is go over there, grab Shael up like a rag doll and beat the crap out of her. Please exuse my abusive language for the moment. I got her grade "card" in the mail today. I won't say what her math grade is because, frankly, I'm embarrassed. Let's just say F. Mike told me he was going to call a tutor and have it all set up. Well, he ain't done squat. I called her and couldn't get a hold of her. After sending a curt email to her teacher, something's going to be done tomorrow. Here comes Mamma to school to bust some heads. I. Am. Livid. I politely asked her teacher to send me an email each time Shael didn't turn in a paper. She has NEVER, not once, done this. She told me that she gives Shael a printout every Monday that shows what papers have and have not been turned in and even what her grade was on the papers she turned in. That's all well and good, but the kid will not bring them home. I've told her and told her to bring them home but I haven't seen one all year. Yes, this is my fault. I blame myself for this. I would like to blame Shael, she's almost 12, you'd think she could turn her papers in. I'd like to blame Mike, he told me he would take the "homework help end of things" when I went to work. DO I HAVE TO DO EVERYTHING AROUND HERE??? So, tomorrow, I'm going to leave work to go to the school (good thing it isn't far and I can go back to work when I'm done) talk with her teacher with Shael in the room with us. I don't care if that's not the way things are done. That's the way things are going to be done tomorrow. I told that teacher if she didn't call me either at home before I left for work or while I was at work, I was going to call her at home Friday night. To give Shael a little benefit of the doubt, the lady is a terrible teacher. A girl from work who went to the same school and had the same teacher for math in 8th grade said that she's awesome at math, always got good grades in that subject, but got a D in her class consistantly all year long. She said she was horrible. Never actually taught, just told the kids what pages to do then left the room, or sat down at her desk for the rest of the class. And when someone would ask for help she'd not really help. I think I'm about ready to send the kid off to military school or something like that. Summer school is looking more and more like Shael's future. Summer '06, school school and more school. My luck it would be the same crappy teacher teaching summer school. So, I'm really hoping that we can get a hold of that lady and Shael can get some help. She won't let me help her, she won't let Mike help her, she won't let my Dad or my Mom help her. She thinks we know nothing and she won't even pay one single bit of attention. I think if it's someone she doesn't really know, she might feel less comfortable around them and do her work. If that doesn't work, she's going to learn how to dance. And she's going to cut the switches herself. She might get that experience sooner than she thinks. I'll have to calm down because I don't want to spank her while I'm this mad. I'm so ticked off what I want to do is wait until she's sound asleep and go in her room, rip the covers off her bed and start pounding away with a belt. Like I said, please exuse my abusive language. That kid doesn't even know what it feels like getting spanked with a belt. The wooden spoons around here and getting a little weak, I think the belt might need to be used. Or a switch. Any of you who think I'm being horrible and that I abuse my kid...kiss off. Those of you who know me, know better, right? Oh, and thanks to my sis and to Andi who sent me some funnies that kind of made me calm down a bit. You think I sound mad now, I was so mad when I wrote that email to Shael's teacher that I had to make it very short and to the point or I was going to go all out on that woman....I think I'm going to go make some tea. Maybe it will help wake me up. I've been sleepy all day long. I even went back to sleep on the love seat this morning after I ate breakfast. I like watching the History channel in the mornings before 7:00 and I fell asleep and missed the Most Moment on History's The Most with Mike Rowe. I'd better make a quick supper too because if I don't, who will? Dare I say Mike might venture into the kitchen and cook for us? No, he'll wait until I get home and say "What's for supper?" Posted by Picasa
I've finally found a song from 1986. Well, blow me down, it's If You Leave by OMD. That means Pretty In Pink must be from 1986, also. Yep. Remember Andie planting that big one on Blane after he tell her that he loves her, always then Duckie tells her to go on after him, she runs out there and drops her purse on the wet ground and is oblivious to the fact that her pink clutch is getting all wet because she's kissing "BLANE" (that's not a name, that's major household appliance) all the while If You Leave is playing. Then Pretty in Pink starts up. "Isn't she....Pretty in pink?" Can you imagine that the babies that were being born when that film was playing at the mall are turning 20 FREAKING YEARS OLD this year? ......Fame is on, now. The song, not the show. Reaching waaaay back to 1980. Fame! I'm gonna live forever, baby remember my..remember..remember...remember. *rockin' guitar solo* then Fame! I'm gonna make it to heaven.....Okay. Nuff nostalgia, I might choke on it before I'm done. Oh, but the song on now....he he. Now it makes me think of 13 going on 30. We are strong! No one can tell us we're wrong. ....Love is a battlefield.......On another subject (please, I'm sure you're asking) Mike said this last night and I quote "Man, picking Shael up cramps my style sometimes" I just looked at him with what I hope was a blank stare. Then he tells me how he could have gone fishing by 2:30 if he hadn't had to pick her up by 3:30 to take her to me at my work. Oh, boy. First of all, spare me the sob story until the day that I pick her up and drop her off at work with YOU, buddy-roe. I was thinking, but never voiced it outloud for wanting to avoid a fight at all cost, that he was wanting me to say "Oh, I'm so sorry, next time call me and I'll take off work early and come pick her up for you so you can go do whatever you so desire." Yeah, right.  Posted by Picasa

Wednesday, February 01, 2006

I forgot to finish. Agin, like I said, I've heard many many times. But chimly? That's a riot! Posted by Picasa
Redneck grammar. At it's finest. I coulnd't agree more, Diva. Now, I've heard people say "agin" for against many times. My Uncle Mutt (now THAT'S redneck at it's finest. To have an uncle named Mutt, that is something you wouldn't hear of many Yanks doing) says that all the time. "I ain't got nothin' agin him, just wish he wouldn't come in here and waste my time" Yeah, like taking naps every couple hours or so on the "couch" isn't time wasting. "Couch" meaning the bench seat out of an old 8 passenger van that's propped up agin the wall. Posted by Picasa

Tuesday, January 31, 2006

Remember when Janet Jackson shocked the world with the revealing of her boob during the half time show? I heard an interview with Dolly Parton shortly after that incident and she said if that would have happened to her she would have knocked out the first two rows of the audience. HA! I think that woman is hilarious. Posted by Picasa
I was just making some mashed potatoes for supper when I remembered I'd used the last stick of butter last night. Oh, well, I thought, I'll just use margarine, I think I have a tub of it in the fridge. I looked, and sure enought, there was a tub of margarine in there. When I opened it up to make sure it was margarine and not some long ago forgotten left over, I thought of Shael. One time she'd seen me open the tub of margarine for something and she said, "Hey! I didn't know we had that! I thought all those tubs were just old moldy left overs that no one ever eats" I asked here where she thought the tubs came from in the first place and she shrugged and said she'd never thought of it before. I guess the thinks the margarine tub fairy comes and visits us periodiclly to make sure we have enough to keep our fridge full of stuff we never eat. I've been using real butter for so long, she'd forgotten about how her and her dad like to "kill the butter!" which means stabbing the tub of margarin over and over with the butter knife until it resembles a garden plot freshly plowed under. They know I hate that, that's why they do it. Little cretins. Posted by Picasa
Back to the car payment thread without going into my comments section. With the money from selling my Mustang and trading in my Lumina, we would only have to borrow around 12grand. Listen to me, ONLY. But, in perspective, we paid $13,000 for my USED Blazer back when I wasn't even working. I would think we would be able to make payments on a brand new Mustang. Enough of that subject or I'll get another twitch in my eye......The other day I heard something that made me cringe. Now, I'm no grammar freak like an English teacher or something. I've been known to use the word ain't here and there and have even finished a sentence with a preposition. Before you all gasp in horror, I could easliy become one of those grammar nazi's, but I choose not to. If it's my daughter and the bad grammer is enough for Mike to notice, I'll say something, but usually I just let it slide. There is a difference, in my opinion, between accent and bad grammar. Take the word "saw". I saw the man outside. Yanks call it "sar" but we Okies call it "saul". I saul the man outside. With that background (hmm...are you even suppose to begin a sentance with a preposition? oops! My bad) this girl came up to her Mom the other day (and no it wasn't my daughter coming up to me because I would NEVER say this) and her Mom asked her where so and so was. Her daughter replied with "I don't know, I saul him earlier in the hall". Not improper grammer, just thick Okie accent. But her Mother says "SEEN!" in that way that mothers have when correcting their child's improper grammar. OMG, I could have melted into the floor. There was no way on God's green earth that I was going to correct the woman in front of her child. That would have been WRONG. I didn't even bother correcting her when her child left. I was too embarrassed. Talk about! Posted by Picasa

Monday, January 30, 2006

Being a Monday, you half way expect your day to be crap. But, the only crap I had to deal with today was the FIVE poopy diapers from the same baby. Five! I never even changed a wet diaper on that girl all day because each diaper I changed was full of crap....Anyway, I got the kitchen nice and cleaned up before I left this morning, I thought it looked so nice and it stayed that way all day because no one was here to mess it up. When I got home from work, I started on supper right away. Chicken Parmisan. It smelled good. 5:30 came and went, 6:00 came and went, 6:30 came and went and finally 7:00 rolled around and Mike and Shael came strolling in like it was normal for them to be so late. Mike looked at the table completely set, just waiting for us to eat, and says "Oh, I didn't know supper was ready already" Like supper is never ready by 7:00. What? As it turns out, I should have eaten alone as much family conversation as I received tonight. Mike and Shael sat down and promptly scraped off the Parmesan from the Chicken Parmesan. Shael grabbed a bottle of b-b-q sauce and dipped her chicken in that. Mike brought a motorcycle magazine to the table and hardly even looked up from it to put scraped chicken into his mouth. Oh, well. .... I was thinking on the way home from work about how unreal it seems that people who were born in the year 1986 are going to be 20 years old some time this year, if they aren't already. I promptly turned the radio to 80's music to try to find a song that was released in 1986 to compare it to. But, I only got to listen to two songs I don't really even like. I was as bad as Shael at turning the channel back and forth trying to decide which station I wanted to stick with. The two songs were Stevie Wonder's I Just Called To Say I Love You and The B-52'S Roam. I never was much of a B-52's fan. If you can tell me what year the Stevie Wonder song was released, let me know, okay? Roam was from 1989. .... It good to know that Shael has been passed along the wonderful trait of critisizing. During supper she looks up and me, points her finger in my face and goes "You've got a HUUUUGGGEEE zit next to your eyebrow." Yeah. Thanks.  Posted by Picasa

Sunday, January 29, 2006

I got to go on a bike ride today. Yay! Since Mike's other plans fell through, I was plan B. Oh, well, you take what you get. We "drove around the block" as he likes to call it. In other words, we went from Grove to Bernice, from Bernice to Ketchum, from Ketchum to Langly, from Langly across the dam over to Disney/Tiajuana, from there to Topsy (I dare any of you to tell me how to get to TOPSY! lol) from Topsy to Jay, from Jay back to Grove and then finally, back to Wyandotte. Thank goodness because I don't think my ass could have made it one more mile. I was trying to concentrate on how cold I was so I could distract myself from how much my butt was hurting. The last leg of the trip was very painful and by the last five miles, I coulnd't help myself, I started squirming. I tried not to but I was needing some kind of relief. But, I never once complained to Mike about it because I didn't want to hear any lectures from him about how "I wanted to take this trip" and maybe "he shouldn't ever take me again". So, I suffered in silence.......I think I have my old Mustang sold. I know the day it gets hauled away I am going to bawl my eyes out. I love that car. The reason I'm selling it, you ask since I say I love it so much? Because for the past TEN years it has sat and gotten more and more deteriorated. Which breaks my heart. I would rather see someone buy it and take it away from me than to watch it get any worse. Which I'm sure it would. There's never money for my project. When Mike wants a motorcycle, he gets one. He's had a boat, a couple motorcycles over the years, a four wheeler, he's spent uncountable man hours and cash on his truck that he takes out below the dam and rock climbs in. Don't get me wrong, I benefit from all those things as a side effect, but, dang it, I want my Mustang fixed so I can drive it again. It's a 1966, red, beautiful piece of metal. I use to drive down main street Miami just so I could look at it's reflection in all the store front windows. I had a standing appointment with it every Monday to take it to the car wash and clean it up and out. How many of you know that when you have a car you love and are proud of, you take it to the car wash and keep it looking good? The car I'm driving now I can truthfully say that I have never taken it to the car wash. Not once. Mike has several times and bitches the whole time because I don't do it. It's because I take no pride it the thing. Don't get me wrong, it's been a good car, but not really my favorite car. It's a car. Nothing more. Not my baby, not my pride and joy, not my "Luminaaaahhh". It white, for heaven's sake. I'm not old enough to drive a white car. (No offense to those white car drivers out there) Mike suggested that when we sell the Mustang to take that money and trade my Lumina in on a new Mustang. A new car. Me, driving a new Mustang. Heck, yeah, I can so see myself driving one of those. I started dreaming about cruising down main street Miami again to look at the car. Pop! Mike bursts my bubble by telling me that it'll have to be a used car. Oh, man! I want, for once in my life, to buy a new car. Yes, I know they are expensive, but I don't care! I selfishly want to go in debt and buy a brand new, fresh off the lot, under 10 miles 2006 Mustang. I want to put those first 100 miles on it. But, it looks like I'll be driving a 2004 or a 2005. Which, I know, is nothing to sneeze at, but, still. Some day. *sigh* Oh, and in case you don't remember, the old lady car that I'm driving now, Mike picked it out for me and bought it for me without me ever laying eyes on it. He called me at work, I couldn't take off to go look at it, I felt pressured like it was going to be sold before I could get up there that night to see it and foolishly said "Oh, what the heck, just buy it". That night when we went back up there to take it home my heart ached when I saw it. In one word: ugly. But, I needed a car, I was sick of driving the Suburban which got gas milage like a school bus and drove about as smooth as one, too. My heart really ached when we drove off and there on the same lot, was a gorgeous green Mustang. I wanted to spit in Mike's eye for being so dang cheap and buying me a hateful stupid looking white car when in the same lot there was a car of my dreams in the color of my dreams for only twice the price as the ugly one! I'm being sarcastic there. Sort of. But, I'm no dummy, when Mike gripes at me for not washing the car, I keep my mouth shut. I don't want to walk down that road of how I really feel about my car. For one, he knew anyway from the look on my face, even though I tried my HARDEST to keep optimistic. For another, he saw me gazing longinly at the Mustang and I know he must've feel like a heel for not being able to affort what I really wanted and having to settle for second best. Jeez, I'm such a jerk, aren't I? Complaining about a perfectly good 1999 Chevy Lumina (even though it IS white) when there's people out there who drive such junkers that they spend more time being worked on than they do being driven. And complaining about having to buy a used 2005? I'm such a spoiled rotten bitch. Please, feel free to disagree..........A quick shout out to my nephew, Luke..Heal quick, man. Posted by Picasa