January 4 to January 10

Hunky took this one. I was messing around with an idea for another bloggy friend’s design.
 Goggles. Check.

 Elli got a flying chicken for Christmas from my friend Kenzie. You’d not believe how excited she gets about this damn thing. He’s got a tubing so you can shoot him sling-shot style and when he lands he makes the loudest, most annoying crowing you ever did hear. She gets so excited before you shoot him, she’s like a coiled spring; whining and begging you to loose him and let ‘er at him. She shoots off like a bat outta hell, then “worries” him, growling and givin’ him the what-for. When she decides she’s killed him, she gives him back so you can make him alive again, and she can kill him all over again. Was this a guess you hadda be there things? Oh, well.

 My man-child. I can see the baby he was and the man he’ll be
at the exact same moment. *deep sigh*

 My niece/Goddaughter got a mirror that lights up
and says, “You’re a pretty princess!” and she was enthralled.

 This blanket is older than me. It hung on the back of my Gramma’s couch
for years and years, and now it hangs on the back of mine.
If Gramma saw all the cat/dog hair on it, she’d tsk tsk tsk me fo’ sho’.

More Weekly Winners Here!

I had a little meltdown Tuesday, and it rather inconveniently placed itself smack in the middle of the time where I pick up my boys from school. When I pulled up I was all snuffly and right away I said, “You guys didn’t do anything wrong, I’m just having myself a little meltdown. It’ll pass.”

Just exactly then, “It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year” came on the radio.

I busted out bawling again.

Rocky put his hand on my shoulder and said, “Mom, this is, like, the stupidest song ever.”

Laughing through crying helps.

• • • • • •

I invite you into my bathroom this morning, right after our shower. (Yes, HunkyDory showers together. Save water; shower with a friend!).

Just, like, in your brain, blur stuff out where The Sim’s game does.

Christmas carols are playing on the iHome.

Hunky: [singing along with 'White Christmas] IIIIII’m screaming at. A. Whiiiiiiite Supremisiiiiiiiist. Just like the ones I… [stops singing abruptly] There’s a chance I might’ve had too much coffee.

Dory: *blink* *blink blink* I got nothin‘, dude.

Hunky: *wandering off and twirling his hands* [sing-song voice] Tooooo Muuuuuch Caaaawwwffffffeeeeee!

Yeah, that’s how we do what we do when we do what we do.

I’ve been having a pretty hard time with the idea of having an almost teenager. But it’s kind of bittersweet. I will miss his baby-ness and his boy-ness, but I dearly love the lower maintenance version of my manchild.

I no longer have to worry about providing some sort of foodular sustinance about every four hours for my youngling. On Saturday mornings, the fruitbat of my loins gets up, get dressed, takes meds, makes and eats his own breakfast, and quietly (hoo buddy, if that lesson didn’t take some stellar parenting technique ass whuppin’!) watches cartoons. I, on the other hand, am free to sleep until I’m damn good and ready to haul my lazy ass out of bed. He mows the lawn. He does chores (most of the time without any threats negative reinforcement). Today I went to Tarzhay and picked up some Noxema pads for his first zit, and because I’m just that cool, a Rubik’s Cube. You know, for Just Because day. I was feeling kind of nostalgic.

That stopped the moment I picked him up from school.

He came walking up to the car with a friend, and much to my surprise, said friend enters my vehicle. *blink* *blink blink* Ah, what’s the happy-haps, man?

He indignantly replied, “Mom, I asked you about this on Wednesday.”

“Aaaand, could you enlighten me as to my response, because it completely escapes my memory.”

“I said, ‘Mom, I wondered, can Friend come stay the night Friday’ and you said, ‘Ok, let me ask Dad.’”

“Aaaand, somehow this translated directly into ‘Sure thing, son, we’re on?!’”

“Welllllllll….”

Hunky had been on the phone so he needed to be brought up to speed. As soon as he was, he said, “You know your Mom forgets things, and that if her answer involves talking to me about it, that is not the green light.”

Resignedly, because we’re complete and utter lame-os who must be grudgingly tolerated, “Ok,” he says.

So we drove home, and all went into the house and scattered; the boys to do their thing, and HunkyDory to do their thing. (That would be goofing around on the Innernets on each of their respective computers. Sheesh.) Before they scattered like roaches when you turn a light on, I unceremoniously tossed the Noxema pads and Rubik’s Cube at Rocky with a terse, “Use morning and night.” Hrmph. Damn nostalgia.

About an hour went by, and all of a sudden, I wrinkled my nose and inhaled a little more deeply.

Smoke.

OMG, something’s on fire!

Just then, Hunky came out of his cave office, and said, “Do you smell cigarette smoke?”

Oh. No. He. DIH-ENT! Uh, duh, I’m a smoker! I know cigarette smoke, especially when it’s not supposed to be in my damn house. Oh, haaay-ells, no, kid; I don’t even get to smoke in my damn house!

“Uh, yeah.”

“Where’s it coming from?”

At the same moment, our heads turned to the closed bathroom door about 10 feet away. And our jaws dropped. Then our voices.

“Would Friend actually be smoking in the bathroom?!”

“Are you shitting me?! He couldn’t be that dumb, could he?!”

[Pause for a second, because I want to share a thought that popped in my mind. HunkyDory on Whose Line Is It Anyway? and we're doing the skit where you can only ask questions. Ok, moving on.]

“You wouldn’t think so, would you?”

“What are we going to do about it?”

“We, who, white man?!”

“You’re going to leave me to deal with this alone?!?!”

“Is a Bear Catholic?!?!”

“Aw, shit.”

[Pause again, ha, he loses! Dory wins! The crowd roars! Ok, moving on.]

So Friend comes out of the bathroom. I’ll save you the gory details, but there was a very stern talking-to, in which it was communicated that not only was smoking a really bad idea, but smoking in someone else’s non-smoking house was an even worse idea. I threw in my two cents by grumpily reiterating my point that I didn’t even get to smoke in my own damn house. Friend’s Dad was called. (Times like this make me really ok with the fact that I can’t use the phone anymore.) And Friend was picked up about a half hour later.

Because I don’t even get to smoke in my own damn house. That’s the important part to take away from this experience. Riiiiight.

Rip it, roll it, and punch it, dude. Please keep all body parts within the vehicle. And a reminder that no smoking is allowed on this ride; if smoke is detected, the sprinklers will automatically turn on, and an electric shock will go off under the offender’s ass. Because I don’t even get to smoke in my own damn house. Thank you for your cooperation.

Would somebody please stop the world for just a moment? Kthx.

My Rockstar is twelve. TWELVE. Am I really old enough to have a 12 year old?

Tonight we gave him a choice between going out to eat or me making fried chicken. He chose Mom’s Fried Chicken. Atta boy.

So I guess what he got for his birthday… a zit. But I promise that wasn’t my doing. No, we were like, Parents of the Week Month Year for giving him a skateboard. Hunky picked up some elbow and knee pads too, and I was like, Ahhh, he’ll use those for what? five minutes seconds? We might as well throw a $10 bill out the car window on the way home. Hunky put them back.

So I made this huge dinner; fried chicken, mashed taters, corn, biscuits, and chocolate cake with chocolate frosting, and I feel like a bloated tick. Then we told him his birth story, and we must’ve done ok, because both boys were laying on the floor laughing. I went through his baby book with him, too.

It’s just so hard for me to believe. He’s TWELVE. And what’s even harder to believe is that next year, he’s a teenager; then three years, he’s driving; then two years, he’s graduating. Holy time warp, Batman!

Feed reader peoples, please do me the honor of clicking through for pictures. In the lower right hand corner of the Pictobrowser, you’ll see Notes; hover for, guess what, ah, that’s right, Notes.

Once upon a time last week, we drove to Michigan to visit my mommy and The Seester. Kizzle and I loaded up the boys and the dog in a VERY small Stratus; one that got smaller and smaller as the drive went on. Hunky drove out on the bike later because of *groan* work and school.

We stayed at my sister’s. Mom came over and we grilled and talked and drank beer. At one point, Dino went and sat on Seester’s lap and she leaned into him and deliberately burped in his ear. He turned around to look at her, and completely dead-pan said, “That was HAWT”. I laughed so hard I almost peed. That’s my boy. We’re SO proud.

My mommy and Elli’s mommy 

Then we went out for a couple drinks.
I keesd mai seester!

Gratuitious Drunk Bitch shot… did somebody goose the seester?!

Then we rode horses…
Mah Kizzle riding Foxy

Me riding Slim. He’s over 16 hands… it’s a looong way to the ground!

Rocky riding Slim

Slim’s got one dark eye and one watch eye

Horse hoof trimmings are considered
a delicacy among discerning canines everywhere

Deer are nothing but 500 pound RATS.

And then Elli discovered the frogs in the swamp.
She scared a batch of them and when they all jumped at once,
she went nuts trying to catch them all and jumped withers-deep into the swamp.
She smelled like mud plus pond scum plus horse poop with a side of roadkill.
We had to hose her ass down before she could come in the house!

Da Beer. Kizzle trying to turn my dog into an alcoholic.
Don’t worry, it was only a few drops in the bottom.

Sunset from Mom’s backyard

Bonfire was complete with beer, shootin’ the shit,
toasted marshmallows, and laughing so hard we almost peed.
Actually, I believe a couple of the gents present actually did.

What’d Smoky say?!

Click that picture up there and add a comment to tell me what you’d caption this photo!

Entries accepted until 07/25/2008 9pmCST– Winner will be announced 07/26/2008
Prize will be something from the bottom of my purse, perhaps a half pack of Fruit Sensations gum! Meaningful dialogue regarding whether the pack is half-empty or half-full is optional. But technically moot, as facts of math will prove half has nothing to do with it, because it’s almost empty.

The whole set is here. There’s some really funny ones, including one where Smoky winked at me which was fairly disturbing. I added some amusing notes and descriptions to many of them (there’s an hour of my life I’ll never get back). Feel free to add a comment to any and let me know what you think of my mad picture takin’ skillz. Flickr comments are almost as exciting to me as blog post comments. *nudge nudge elbow poke wink wink*

A refresher on buzzing like a bee through a set…

And a good time was had by all. The End. *curtain falls*