I tried to post, really, honestly, I did. But they turned out something like this:
*clears throat*
I got up. I was tired. I slept for shit. I ate a hot pocket. It was good. But hot. And a pocket. At the same time. Wow. My head still hurts. Ow.
*bows*
Someone told me that no one cares what you had for lunch (which is actually on its way from the Amazon Fairy!) so you see, I didn’t abandon you. Really, if you think about it (and not even real hard), I did you a ginormous favor. It was best to just put those posts out of their misery and move on.

And now, Jim… The Sports.

My body is trying to break the world record for Most Snot Ever Out of One Small Person. I’ve gone through more kleenex than a junior varsity cheerleader with no boobies. The Hunk, God bless ‘im, went out into the snow and sleet to get me a box of Puffs with Vicks and Lotion with Aloe to prevent what could have been a very serious partial amputation of the nose. Pretty soon, all the goop production is going to dehydrate me and I’ll have to get some IV fluids. Damn winter and its damn head colds.

And now, Mitsy… The Weather.

We’re still battling with DHS and Hawk-i, and The Rockstar is unmedicated. And? Kind of like The Tazmanian Devil. The Wonderful Fifth Grade Teacher That I Am In Love With In A Totally Non-Lesbian Way (hereafter aka WFGTTIAILWIATNLW… aw hell, how about just Wfgt) had to send me an email today re: my Rocky/Taz completely losing his brain, and, I gotta admit, I did not have a heart attack and die from this surprise.

Now before you read this email… aw, crap, wait… what if she sues me?! Wait again! I have NOTHING! Save for the lint in my pockets and some furniture that Goodwill won’t even take, a few dented vehicles, and some refrigerator items that may or may not have lethal bacteria.

And. Don’t you go dissin’ on Wfgt. Because I will totally Kick. Your. Ass. I’ve got the boots; don’t make me use them.

——————–
Subject: Rocky
Date: Wed, 5 Dec 2007 15:49:17 -0600
From: Wfgt
To: Dory

I know that it will come to no surprise to you that Rocky has been having a lot of difficulties now that he has been off his meds, and it is increasingly getting worse.

I have been cutting his assignments down since I know that focusing is so difficult. [this is clearly a woman who knows how to choose her battles] But, it has gotten to the point that he is not completing ANY of his assignments, he was unable to do his math test (even with me sitting next to him prompting), and he is very disruptive to the class.

We are trying to make adaptations and looking for solutions (any ideas!) but I was wondering how long you think it might be before Rocky is back on his meds. Also, if there is anything that we can do to help facilitate filling Rocky’s prescription let me know. I know in the past, our school nurse has taken a role in this for others.

The problem with email is I hope this isn’t misconstrued as desperate… like I will do ANYTHING… please…. help….. duct tape, etc. It really isn’t like that!

Let me know if you have any suggestions!

Thanks, Wfgt
——————–

And here is my response:

——————–
Wfgt,

Hang in there with me, please please please! We’re having such a time with DHS and Hawk-i, I can’t even begin to tell you how frustrated it makes me. I got a letter 10/28 from DHS that since Hunky got a part time job, now we have to have Hawk-i. It said we wouldn’t have to do anything, we would be cards in the mail. Well, mid-November I called (oh, and anytime I say called, it’s really a relay call which moves approximately at the speed of erosion) Hawk-i because I hadn’t gotten cards yet. The gal said, “Yeah, we called your DHS worker and told them we needed more info on 11/2 and they didn’t do it.” So I called my DHS worker and she said, “If I had gotten a message, I surely would’ve acted on it.” And both… what are they, they’re not companies… slimy squid-like monsters said that it was not their fault and there was nothing they would do. Then last Friday Hawk-i said that we would be getting the cards in the mail in 3-10 days. At one point, we bought Rocky 5 pills just to get us through until we thought the cards would be there, and that cost $43 and came out of grocery money. And stupid DHS says that we make too much money to get food assistance! Me, on unemployment, and Hunky, on a part-time job, make too much money for assistance. It boggles my mind. And we get to do it all over again (oh the joys!) because I’m about to get my last unemployment check, which changes our income level, and I guaran-friggin-tee that Hawk-i will bounce us back to DHS and sure as the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, so help me, they’re going. to screw. it. up.

*blink*
*blink blink*

Anywaaay, I didn’t mean to get off on that tangent. I talked to Rocky tonight and told him that he was going to have to put some more effort forth even though he doesn’t have his pills, I know he can do better than what he’s doing, even med-less. He agreed with me. So he’s going to really try much harder. Tomorrow I’ll check with CVS and see if they can just talk to Hawk-i and get the pills without the card yet. I know he’s really very challenging and difficult, believe me; it’s literally driven me to tears at times. Do me a big, huge, fat favor. Any teacher you’ve EVER heard utter the words, “Drugs aren’t what’s best for ADHD kids; they’re for parents who need their kids sedated because they don’t want to handle them” or any variation thereof, and I want you to go get them, and bring them to your room, and watch Rocky for one hour. There will be much groaning and sobbing and gnashing of teeth, but don’t let that scare you. Because one week after he’s back on his meds, you herd them all up again, and you bring them to your room (heck, use a cattle prod, I don’t care) and you have them, again, watch Rocky for one hour. You’ll make converts of them all. It’ll be like a big ol’ revival right there in school. Make sure you take up a love offering, because it’s best to hit them up when they’re all emotional.

Damn it. Tangent again. *shakes head vigorously*

Oh, and don’t think for one second that I have never considered duct tape and a large oak tree.

Highest Regards,
Preachin’ to the choir in Cedar Rapids
——————–

There’s not many perks to being a parent. So sometimes, God gives you a teacher that gets your kid. He’s cool like that.

Rip it, roll it, and punch it, dude.

A long, looooong time ago (ok, only 25ish years), in a land far faaaaaar away (ok, Fremont MI), I played Aggravation with my grandparents. It had a black board, four different color marbles and two dice and worked like Sorry!. Both grandparents played that game with me for hours and days and weeks.

How in the name of all that’s sacred did they do it?!

I can’t play a board game with my boys for two minutes before I’ve ripped out my hair and set fire to it as a diversionary tactic to buy myself 15 precious seconds in order to quickly leave the room, jump in the car, and buy the next ticket out of the country to go buy my Himalayan Whistle Kid. Himalayan Whistle Kids don’t ask you to referee and endure mental torture under the guise of Family Game Night. Himalayan Whistle Kids sit in the corner and make origami out of Tupperware parings and golden mushroom gravy, silently thankful for the bountiful blessings I bestow upon him.

I’ve been watching what weird-ass Google searches led people to my blog. I’m sorry to say nothing noteworthy has turned up as of late. It’s high time that situation was rectified.

Gerbil fist anus heaving breasts. Turtle nostril vibrate peanut butter. Earrings nipple piercings Prince Albert. Incandescent lightbulb stuck pelvic x-ray. Leprechaun rape Sasquatch erotic. Ginormous tumescent phallic wonder. Me love you long time. Llama sexy single girls gone wild illegal. Pulsing womanhood slippery entice wandering eyes. Harley Davidson shop exhibitionist Yankees voyeur vibrate vibrate vibrate. Semen bukkake alluring tantric orgasm. Hitler rectal donkey punch romantic evening. Foaming pubic kneecaps licking toe jam. Tongue giraffe kneel job. Sexy Premier Chain expose nudist Santa. Oh, me so horny. Oh, and smegma.

That oughta do it.

Yesterday The Rockstar took his life into his own hands and pointed out the fine Polish heritage sprouting from my chin. I ran into the bathroom hysterically bawling, and Hunky gently took Rocky under his wing and suggested to him some much less violent ways to die.

The Dinosaur thinks very visually. And reads a lot of Calvin & Hobbes.

Dino likes Britny. I told him that Britny would be coming over soon, and he said, “I just love Brit-tah-nee.” He flourished his hands from his hips and up above his head and stated matter of factly, “Hearts are coming out from me all over.”

Well, I think I’ve done enough damage for one day. Tune in tomorrow, same bad time, same bad station.

Rip it, roll it, and punch it, dude. Word.

Let’s face it, all the best dressed toddlers on the catwalks are sporting the peanut butter face, diaper, and daddy’s work boots.

And all the Ethiopian-lookin’ super models must wear wigs because what with all the anorexia making their hair fall out.

Look out Britney and Paris, the hubster likes to show off his unmentionables too. At least he wears some. As a side note, Mah Kizzle is into S&M apparently. Note how hard she’s pinchin’ his nipples. Can clothespins be far off? I think not. It’s a slippery slope.

And those are the only pictures in my whole collection that I could connect to “Fashion”.

“What a gyp!” “You Suck!” “Somebody call the police because we was robbed!”

I hear your cries. And you make a valid, albeit harsh, point.

I shall attempt to redeem myself. I’m going to share with you the latest literary opus from The Dinosaur.

This is the Cover. In which we are introduced to Corythosaurus (say cor-rith-o-SAW-rus). Oh, yes. You bet your boots I had to ask him for help with pronunciation.

Page 2. I asked him where he got the idea to write a Foreword in his book, and he said The Essential Calvin & Hobbes. That’s my boy. I only hope that he really does write a comic book with a Foreword with a mocking I-told-ya-so directed at his brother.

Page 3. This is the meat of the book. He didn’t have the contractions dead on, but he did use the right its/it’s. I’m so proud. And is it just me, or did Cory fart just then?

Back Page. A rockin’ logo for his comic book series. Oh yes, there are many installments. This is only Volume 10. Um, ish.

And just so The Rockstar doesn’t feel all left out…

When the boys were smallerish and did something lacking in intelligence, I would get exasperated and ask them, “Where is your brain?! Did you leave it in bed? Perhaps you should go retrieve it.” Then later, when I went beyond exasperated into Danger- Mommy’s- Head- Just- May- Explode, “Where exactly is your brain now? Is it up your butt? Perhaps you should retrieve it.” A few months later, this exchange occurred between myself and Rocky, in which he skipped a couple steps.

Me: “Where exactly is your brain?!”
R: “Apparently, it’s up my butt.”

I bit my lip and hid in the closet, laughing into a pillow. I almost peed a little. It took me about five minutes before I could recover my composure.

Rip it, roll it, and punch it, dude. Totally.

I took this picture summer 2004 while I was in Digital Photography. The assignment was to take your own self-portrait. I wracked my brain and came up with this. Hey, at least I didn’t wrap my face in salmon skin. True story. A classmate actually set up a tripod and took, like, a hundred pictures with his face wrapped in fresh (I hope!) salmon skin. I like my idea better. Oh, and that’s really my shadow. Lacking a tripod, I sat my camera on top of a Mountain Dew can and set the timer. It took quite a few tries to get it just right. Now that you’ve looked at my self-portrait, you know me a little better. And there’s no fishy aftertaste.

I’ll go a little deeper. Why did I choose the books I did?

The Practical Encyclopedia of Sewing
Mom taught me how to sew early, and I entered sewing projects in 4-H almost every year I was in. I also showed horses in 4-H for 11 years. Mom actually made me a lot of clothes when I was younger, really girly dresses that weren’t too frilly and ruffle-y. I’m glad she did, because sewing is a great outlet for creativity. It’s most fun (and frustrating!) when you’re making something from your own pattern or modifying someone else’s. These days, I make quilts most often.

Calvin & Hobbes Lazy Sunday Book
One of my mostest favoritest things in the world is Calvin & Hobbes. I bought my first book when I was a freshman in high school. Some of my fondest memories of school are sitting in a book store with a friend reading C&H together and laughing until we were falling over each other crying. Of course, it helped that we managed to skip school and successfully avoid detection and escaped to Ft. Wayne, IN for the day. Yeah. I was bad. Bad Dory. BAD.

The American Country Woodworker
Yet another fantastic outlet for creative energy. But since I have no room in my garage to actually work the wood, I don’t get to do it like I want to. I have a band saw, table saw, scroll saw, and router. I mostly make crafty crap.

Football for Dummies
Hunky introduced me to NFL football! I still don’t understand some of the nuances of the game, but it’s more fun to cuddle on the couch watching with him than fight about not doing something with me and watching stoopid football AGAIN. Go Packers! Hunky digs the Raiders. Man, some of those fans at the Black Hole are craaaaazeeeeeee. And… contrary to popular belief, Tom Brady is not the most ruggedly handsome best quarterback of all time. Tombrady is a bedwetter. I don’t care if John Madden wants to have his love child. It’s just so. Tombrady=Bedwetter. Amen.

Life Application Bible
God rawks.

Adobe Illustrator CS Classroom in a Book
I chose this because I finally figured out what I wanted to be when I grew up. I absolutely love being a graphic artist.

The Perigree Visual Dictionary of Signing
Back in ’04 my hearing, or lack thereof, wasn’t quite so bad and it wasn’t the issue it is today. But I knew it was coming, like when the train shakes the ground a couple miles off. I tried to get into ASL starting in Fall ’04 but it always filled up so damn fast or my work schedule didn’t permit it, until I finally started ASL 1 in Fall ’06.

Forgive and Love Again
HunkyDory reconciled Novemberish ’03. But it was a long, hard road, and by summer ’04 I knew we’d be ok, but we had a lot of work to do.

Mona Lisa Smile
Ok, I know, not a book, but whatever, it’s my damn self-portrait. Anywho. I am not a crier, but I bawled at the end of this movie. Not much makes me cry. Extreme frustration. Clydesdales. Hunky yelling at me. Major rejection. Someone else crying (sometimes).

Dictionary and Thesaurus
I heart heart heart words.

The Monster at the End of this Book
One of my favorite kids’ books of all time. My boys define a portion of me. It’s been said more than once that The Rockstar is my mini-me. I’m not the mommy I thought I’d be, but I am not an entirely sucky mom.

So there you go. I may think up a new list of books that can sit on a sidewalk and tell you about who I am. It’s only been three years, but the only thing that’s constant is change. And I’m a different person than I was three years ago. And I hope I will be different three years from now. In a good way. :)

What books would be in your pile on a sidewalk in front of your shadow?

Lick it, slam it, and suck it, mis amigos.

Ugh, I did yardwork today for about five hours, give or take a couple smoke breaks. Suck suck suckity suck. I can’t stop coughing up lungs-ful of crud. When I blew my nose, dirt, a couple twigs, and a baby squirrel came out. I actually had to take a couple hits on the inhaler tonight. It went a lot quicker than I thought it would though, because my girlfriend was nice enough to help me out. *waves at Mah Kizzle*

This crotchety old lady that lives next door to us is completely psycho about leaves. Well, she’s psycho in general, but let’s just dwell on this one aspect of her neuroses for a moment. One leaf lands in her yard and she waddles out there to scoop it up and deposit it in her yardy, and she thinks I should have the same crazy-ass tendencies about my dead tree poop. This gal is old… I mean old. Her and her husband are the only remaining original house owners in this section of town that went up in 1948. I’m pretty sure she was old then. Maybe she’s Gollum.

I grew up on the farm, and one nice thing about living in the country is we never had to rake leaves. Just let them be, right where God puts ‘em, I say. I did have to mow about a football field’s worth; at least it was a riding mower though. I made the boys help with leaf detail, and oh, you know their lives are soooo rough. Of course I was a mean ole slavedriver crackin’ a whip. Get ready for the When I Was Your Age Schpiel, because the boys had to hear it. When I was Rocky’s age, I was getting up at 5am to do chores in the barn, get ready for school, and then my bus came at 6:30am and I had an hour bus ride to school. In the winter, we had to break the ice in all the water buckets before we hauled fresh water in five gallon buckets to all the animals. I had to pitch horse crap, carry bales of hay and straw, carry a five gallon water bucket on each arm, help load up the truck with firewood and unload it back at the house, help put up and repair fence, and load and unload 50 pound sacks of grain. I even had to help Mom with the horse breeding. Boy, is that an experience! *chuckles*

Soooo, I worked until 6:15 and took like the quickest shower ever, and was back out the door at 6:40 to go to the hockey game. It was great; there were fights and blood on the ice — and bonus plan, baby — we won! I like me a little hockey with my violence.

Rip it. And stuff like that there.