Saturday, May 31, 2003

Sorry I didn't write more yesterday. Soon after publishing the last post, I got a call from my mom, who was worried about her baby. She said if I wasn't too tired to drive, why didn't I bring the boys in to her house for lunch and take a nap while I was there. I had showered, dressed the boys, and was pulling out of the driveway before the ear piece on the phone had time to cool.

We had a great day. The Senator just about wet his britches when he found out his cousins were going to stop by after school. He worships cousin M., because this cousin knows how to run the computer and download neat games off the Internet. He loves cousin J., because this cousin reacts very strongly when The Senator is trying to annoy him. Both cousins in one shot. A dream come true.

I was thinking about writing some when I got home, but I had left the windows open in the house, and it was FREEZING inside. I was having trouble changing The Governor's diaper because my fingers were going numb. Forget typing. It still hasn't warmed up much. It's June 1 tomorrow, and I'm sitting at the keyboard in a flannel shirt and sweat pants. I like my fall weather in the fall, thank you.

My brother tipped me off to one of his new favorite blogs, Professor Bunyip. Well worth a visit and a bookmark. And the fellow is talking about moving off you know he's a decent chap. Cousin Emmy in Alaska: I found some great "mom" blogs. Start with Moody Mama and then check out her blog roll. I like Coffeemom and Busy Mom Blog.

More later as time and temperature permits.

Friday, May 30, 2003

Mitch Berg has a great post today, taking the Star Tribune to task for its tin-foil hat editorial on the passage of The Personal Protection Act.

And via Instapundit, I read this tutorial on Moveable Type last night. It was great! I think I'm inspired enough to try moving off BlogSpot all by myself. I have a bit more reading to do, but I can't wait to get started.

I should find plenty of time to read up on MT if The Governor has another couple nights like last night. I'm not sure what was upsetting him, but he kept waking up and crying every 45 minutes. After my third trip to his room to comfort him, I decided it wasn't worth it to go back and wait for the fourth ear-piercing scream to come over the monitor, so we sat at the computer and surfed pretty much all night. If you find a couple (or several) spelling errors today, don't criticize unless you want to come over and babysit so I can take a nap.

More later if I'm still conscious.

Thursday, May 29, 2003

Varmint Death Pool
We've killed eight gophers so far. Yee-haw. And The VP got to shoot a sick raccoon a couple of weeks ago. The dogs have something treed right now, so we might raise the numbers by the end of the evening. And I need a ruling on this one: if I run over a garter snake in the I get to count it?

Yep...this is how we have fun in the Wright County outpost of French Lake Township.

Depressing news...I was talking to my brother today about moving off Blog*Spot. (He'd like to move as well.) I mentioned getting a DSL line, and he said he couldn't get one in his area because you have to be within a certain distance of a substation or something like that. Well, if he can't get one in his city (large suburb), there's no chance in Hades I'm getting one out here. I sometimes drive the car just to get to my mailbox.


Good news...Awesome Bryan sent me another encouraging email directing me to this lady for help setting up my own site sans Blogger. Why don't you all go there for a visit and ratchet up her traffic a bit so she'll be in a great mood when I hit her up for help in my email I'm sending tomorrow!

Wednesday, May 28, 2003

I'm beginning to develop the same passionate hatred for Blog*Spot that so many people already possess. Now I get some irritating window opening up saying a Runtime error has occurred - do I want to Debug? I keep clicking NO until it goes away. It does this when I open my brother's site as well.

So - I'm moving. I'm not sure how soon I'm going to be able to tackle this - but I've got to do it. I think I'm going to try and find someone to help me set up a template with Moveable Type - and show me enough just to be able to post and put up a few pictures. I'm not going to be messing around with design changes. I'd like to work with someone local so I could sit down with them and have them show me live. I'm going to have trouble working with someone over the phone because our house only has one phone line (dial-up modem here), and my cell phone doesn't get reception inside. (Yes...I live in the boonies.) Trying to work and talk won't happen. Maybe I can talk the VP into getting a DSL or whatever it is that frees up your phone line. (Yes, that's how ignorant I am of all things computer-related.)'s constantly on my mind.

I haven't seen or heard much about this today, but I haven't been near a TV or newspaper. Steve H. says the WMD's have been found. Can't wait to get more details. If this is true...I can't wait to listen to talk radio tomorrow.

The Governor was taking some independent walks today. Six or seven steps all by himself. Tomorrow he'll be asking for the car keys. Sigh.

Ooh. I forgot to mention that I'm going to a Dixie Chicks concert in Minneapolis on June 6th. My sister purchased tickets before Natalie Maines opened her yap over in London. Can't wait to see the crowd downtown. I'm not expecting much booing. If anything, there will probably be a lot of support for the singers. Minneapolis is like San Francisco lite. I'm sure we'll see plenty of anti-Bush PETA members who will want Natalie to autograph their Wellstone t-shirts.

Tuesday, May 27, 2003

I'm just now catching up on reading my favorite blogs. I didn't have much time over the weekend. One of my new favorites, Arguing with Signposts, had a post on my Meanest Mom entry. I suppose most big time bloggers get linked to so frequently they barely notice, but it sends me into a fit of giggles to see my site referenced on someone else's blog. Even if it's to tell me I'm painfully mean! Thanks, Bryan!

His post sent some traffic my way, including Steven at The Poliblog, who sent me an email with some advice on getting off Blogger!

And to my brother, Bob, who thinks I'm enforcing "capricious" gun laws in my own house by dismembering my son's cap gun (Sat, May 24 post): your thinly veiled threat to replace the gun on The Senator's birthday is futile. I'm posting my "No Guns Allowed" signs on each doorway as required by law. Although if you decide to break in through a window...there's nothing I could do about it.

Hmmm...I guess all burglars will now have to enter through windows because if they try to break into a house through a duly posted door, they'll have to leave their weapons behind.

Had a wonderful Memorial Day Weekend. Sunday I had another soccer game, but decided it was too nice a day to leave anyone maimed so the jerk who took the unsportsman-like shot at me the week before got to go home in one piece. Sunday evening I spent at my friend's house with a couple of other girlfriends. I couldn't tell you exactly what we did or talked about, except that it involved a lot of attempts at making strawberry daiquiris and laughing so hard my pancreas hurt.

Not too much else to share today. Unless you want details on the number of pocket gophers we've been killing around here. We have lots of them. I finally saw one caught in a trap today. (My father-in-law usually disposes of them before the boys or I have to look at them.) I was surprised I felt no pity for the thing. My only thought was, "Heh. More peas for me." That'll teach 'em to burrow in our vegetable gardens. Man...what a change for me. When I lived in Minneapolis, I probably would have sobbed to see a cute, furry gopher clamped dead in a trap. Now I'm wishing we could get rid of the traps and just shoot the pesky buggers. Country livin'!

Sunday, May 25, 2003

Last night's emergency midnight bulletin from The Senator:
Mom, I had a HUE-MUNGEOUS boogie in my nose but it was too far back so I used my finger to get it out! I just had to tell you.
And off he goes...back downstairs to bed. Comforted in the fact that Mom is now wide awake wondering what he did with the boogie after he rescued it from the caverns of his nose. Guess we'll be changing all the bedsheet in this house today.

Friday, May 23, 2003

I want to thank you all for coming tonight to see me accept this award. And I want to acknowledge the other did a great job, but today, I had what it takes to set myself apart from the make to the very top. And so it is with humble modesty that I accept the coveted Wire Hanger for being selected as this year's
I'm going to pass on the million-dollar book deal my agent arranged and give you the secret to my success right now.

I've been building to this moment for some time, with various despotic plans that included vegetables for dinner, naps, baths, forced use of language such as "please" and "thank-you," and unreasonable bedtimes.

But what brought me to the top was this incident today in the kitchen. The Senator was playing in the sink. We fill it up, add food coloring, and bring out various tools (utensils) for him to monkey with in the water. One "tool" was a small, wooden tong used for picking bagels out of the toaster. Inexpensive piece of junk, really, but my junk. I'm reading the newspaper at the counter when I hear a SNAP! The Senator turns around with two pieces of wood in his hand and announces in a nearly gleeful voice
I broke it, Mom! And it can't be fixed!
This is not the first thing of mine he has systematically destroyed. We've had four or five other 'discussions' about breaking other people's things. Apparently, the lesson didn't take. So I asked him to get down from his perch and go get me his toy cap gun.

He ran out of the room and came back with the gun. I released the chamber, and snapped it right off.

I'll just let that sink in a moment...

Yep. Snapped it right off. He was speechless for about 30 seconds as his brain tried to verify what his eyes were reporting. And then the howling started. And when that subsided, he held out the two pieces and asked if he should put them in the trash. Sure, I said, right next that thing of mine that you broke. More howling. I told him to take off his glasses and go lie down, and he wails,
Are you going to break my glasses?
If I was going for the Most Vicious Mom award, I would have answered, "Probably." But I knew I could take the gold in the Mean why risk it.

I did make him take a nap, however, so don't think I'm soft.

I think this lesson is going to stick with him a while.

Thank you, and good-night.

Thursday, May 22, 2003

I was going to suggest that some small business owners might want to check into this as a means of some cheap advertising...but I don't want any strangers looking that closely at my nephew's rear end.

(If the BlogSpot link doesn't work; check out today's entry at my brother's site.)

And a public thank you to Bryan at Arguing with Signposts for some helpful information on TypePad...which may be my way out of Blogger!

I wish I had more to write, but today has been spent mostly lying around the pool, eating bon-bons, and watching daytime television. I did get off the lounger long enough to let the pool boy reach the empty pizza boxes underneath, but I don't think I moved more than a couple of feet all day. I had the maid set the boys out in the back yard with the dogs and told her to make sure they had enough water for the day. I was seriously considering having a catheter put in to avoid yet another wasteful expenditure of energy: walking to the bathroom. The butler turned away all visitors and peddlars, and secured his job forever when he shot that annoying crow in the neighbor's tree. The string quartet showed up 6 minutes late, so when they were done playing three hours later... I refused to pay them. They started to get upset. I called the butler. They went out with a bang. I'd tell you about the rest of my afternoon, but the pool boy is here with the scented oils and lotions and he's going to give my index fingers a massage. How I suffer. How I suffer. that the Dayquil has worn's how my day really went: Never mind. It involved nothing more glamorous than running children to various appointments and trying to keep my nose from dripping when I didn't have a tissue handy. Have you ever pretended to cough into your shoulder just so you could discreetly blot your nose on your shirt? Here's a hint: it's not discreet when you're wearing a dark-colored shirt and your nose leaves a noticeable wet spot. The sad part is...I had a tissue in my pocket. I just couldn't reach it because I was holding onto The Governor and The Senator was clinging to my other hand. Parking lot rules, you know. Fortunately, whenever you're holding an infant...everyone assumes all messes on your clothes are from the baby. No need to correct them.

Have a great Memorial Day Weekend!

Wednesday, May 21, 2003

Today was The Senator's last day of preschool. The teachers celebrated the summer birthdays this week, and today was The Senator's turn to wear a Birthday Crown and hand out treats. The VP and I ordered several pizzas and brought them in and the kids had a party. What a blast. A roomful of squirrely 4 and 5 year olds. I don't know how the teachers keep a straight face day after day.

The Governor finally went to sleep. And he should be up again in about 5 hours. I think it's been a full month since he last slept through the night. We're going to the doctor tomorrow. He's had a cough that wakes him up and a very runny nose the last couple of days. I feel so bad for the poor guy.

I feel bad for me, too. When he doesn't sleep; I don't either. I can't remember the last time I slept for more than 4 straight hours. I've discovered that once you go long enough with little to no sleep, you enter an auto-pilot type of existence that makes life remarkably easy. For example, when I go grocery shopping with The Senator, we don't have any more arguments over what should go in the cart.
Mom, can I have this green and black pudding with the red sprinkles on top and maple syrup drizzle?
On a full night of sleep, I say no, he counters with the benefits of said pudding, I deny the claims, he appeals with a couple other reasons as to why he should have the pudding (including "because I don't have any yet"), and I lay down the final decision: NO. On auto-pilot it goes like this:
Mom, can I have this green and black pudding with the red sprinkles on top and maple syrup drizzle?

Grocery shopping trips are now completed in record time. We still have nothing to eat when we get home, but on auto-pilot...who cares?

Tech Question
I would really like to move off Blog*Spot...but I'm scared to death. I want to register my own domain name and set up my own site...but I'm just not sure how to begin. Natalie offered me some ideas quite a while ago about setting up a page in Yahoo or something like that. My mother-in-law also gave me a copy of FrontPage, but on this site, I've read some comments that it may not be the best thing for blogging. I've seen Moveable Type on a lot of sites...but I have no idea what this is. What's the best way for the computer illiterate to evolve up from Blogger? Please understand...I am starting from Ground Zero. I know NOTHING about servers, HTML (except how to make my words bold or set in italics), registering a name, etc. Any one who has some time...feel free to email me (address at top left) and direct me. I wouldn't mind hiring someone to help me with this.

Uh oh. The Governor's awake. It's going to be a looooooong night. At least I'll have time to do a lot of blog reading. Hope Steve H. has been busy writing today.

Tuesday, May 20, 2003

I'm thinking about changing out of this pair of shorts and into a pair of jeans just so I can unsnap them and feel better. Aaaaah. Great dinner tonight. My favorite. Lasagna. Garlic toast. Salad. Fruit. Chocolate cake. Did I say aaaaah yet?

My mom had a great tradition when we were little. On your birthday, you got to set the menu for the evening. Or at least pick the main course. And I always picked lasagna. Today is my mother-in-law's birthday. So I decided to keep the tradition going. No, she didn't choose lasagna. I chose it for her.

The Senator decorated Nana's birthday cake, and he picked out some "Magic Candles" to put on the top. He was so enthralled by the idea of these tricky candles that he couldn't wait to open them. I had to hold him off all day by telling him we could not get the candles out until Nana came over for dinner. It just about killed him to wait for dinner to end. I swear he would have lit them in her salad if I would have let him. The candles were a big hit; but we almost set off the smoke detector.

Well, I better go. I forgot to cover the newly planted flowers, and we're supposed to get a frost tonight. (*&%#! Minnesota weather.

Oooh. Almost forgot. Look for some news coming from the MN State House. Seems one of our Democrats pulled a similar stunt to those Texas Dems...but with a twist! Might be a rumor, but you'll know for sure tomorrow!

Sunday, May 18, 2003

Just got back from my soccer game. This Sunday night league is a co-ed, recreational league. The sign-up form specifically states that if you are competitive...go somewhere else. Well, there are lots of talented people out there each Sunday, but they adjust to make it a fun game for the others who barely know how to kick a ball in a straight line. Except for Nick. I don't like this guy. Tonight he blasted a shot that whizzed by my head and caught my ear. That burned. It's a good thing I'm a mild-mannered person, (stop laughing, Dad) or I would have taken him down the next time the ball came anywhere near him. His luck held; the game only had a minute left to play and so he will live until next Sunday. Then he will perish in a mangled heap of twisted limbs on the 18 yard line.

Want to know what dissipated my bad mood? Passing the dairy farm that's a mile or so from my home...I saw a bull and a cow mating. Man, was that funny. I couldn't help but wonder what went through that poor cow's mind as this large brown refrigerator launched onto her back side. Probably wondering if she can find a chiropractor.

Hope you all had a fantastic weekend.
Happy Birthday, Charlotte!

I'd let you all know how old my pal, Charlotte, is today, but I forgot. Besides, if you've met her, you wouldn't believe me anyway. She looks like she's 19. She teaches school out in Colorado, and I often wonder how she maintains discipline with her high school students because she could blend in with them in a crowd. Well...she does have an iron will, though. She has to - she's married to my brother-in-law! (Kidding, Terry!) Hope you are having a wonderful birthday, Charlotte!

Saturday, May 17, 2003

I was just peeking at my Site Meter and I saw that someone visited from this site. So I went there and found some good stuff! And now I am following the author's suggestion: "Notice me now and be ahead of the curve!" And thank you, sir, for blog rolling me!
Sorry about missing a couple of days…it’s been busy around here. To start off the updates: We have a new nickname for The Drool! Henceforth, the junior dictator in the family shall be known as The Governor. Choosing a new name was a tough decision; I received several great suggestions. The Governor (or The Guv, if I'm too lazy to type the whole thing) seemed to fit best. The wonderful thing is, because I thought of it myself...the $10,000 winning entry prize goes to me! Hahahahahaha!

Next update: The Governor is now STANDING by himself and TAKING A FEW STEPS. I can’t really call it walking yet, but he’s on his way. His longest stretch was six steps while teetering from me to Nana. I was beginning to get a bit worried about him. The Senator was walking at 11 months. The Guv hit the 13 month mark yesterday. Of course now I'm obligated to completely switch gears and long for the days when he couldn't walk.

The Professor and The Green Goddess came out yesterday to help me reclaim the raised-bed planter that I abandoned last year. The transformation is amazing. The GG pruned back some shrubs and my rose bush and pointed out some other changes I could make. We planted lots of flowers and a couple of interesting ground covers. I can’t wait to see it take off this year. I highly recommend encouraging you to get your mother or someone else in the family to become a Master Gardener. Now if I could only get my siblings to change their vocations and become an Electrician, A Carpenter, and a Pediatrician, I’d be set. However…having two (soon three) police officers in the family isn't a bad thing, and may come in handy when the boys turn 16.

Oh, and before I forget...HAPPY BIRTHDAY, Bob!

I'd like to write more, but I've been informed we are going on a family grocery shopping trip. Hoo Ha! This should be fun. Really. No sarcasm. I love going grocery shopping with The VP. It's so nice to be able to turn your back on your cart and actually look at the shelves and not worry about someone trying to climb out of the cart, or someone's older brother trying to climb into the cart. An extra adult makes it a joyous occasion. Oreos for everybody!

Wednesday, May 14, 2003

Right Thinking from the Left Coast links to this article about a lawyer in San Francisco who wants to stop the sale of Oreo cookies to children.
Oreo cookies should be banned from sale to children in California, according to a lawsuit filed by a San Francisco attorney who claims that trans fat -- the stuff that makes the chocolate cookies crisp and their filling creamy -- is so dangerous children shouldn't eat it.
Can you see where this is headed? Warning labels on your cookies. The entire cookie aisle at your local grocer's will now be located in the lockable glass cases in the front of the store. Ask the cashier, and he will fetch you a package. Sign this release form, ma'am, so we can be absolved of any liability in case one of these Oreos makes it into a child's mouth.
The suit, the first of its kind in the country, asks for an injunction ordering Kraft Foods to desist from selling Nabisco Oreo Cookies to children in California, because the cookies are made with partially hydrogenated vegetable oil, also called trans fat.
How many children buy Oreo cookies right now? In most of the families I know, the adults buy the cookies for the kids. Can't you just wait for the police reports?
Responded to a complaint at Mayfield Park of a soccer mom distributing a controlled substance to children. Mary Johnson, 35, was arrested and charged with fifth-degree contributing to the delinquency of minors. A package of Kraft Oreo cookies was confiscated at the scene.
Maybe we should just save a lot of time, energy, and money, and simply give all the fruits and vegetables labels that say, "This has NOT been shown in any significant, reliable studies to cause severe damage to your health. Anything else in your cart should be eaten at your own risk."

UPDATE: On The Fritzhas further information about the dangers of OREOs!

Tuesday, May 13, 2003

I found this over at Mrs. du Toit's site. She doesn't know who to credit, so neither do I. Wish I did...I really enjoyed it.
A young teenage girl was about to finish her first year of college. She considered herself to be a very liberal Democrat and her father was a rather staunch Republican. One day she was challenging her father on his beliefs and his opposition to programs like welfare.

He stopped her and asked her how she was doing in school. She answered that she had a 4.0 GPA but it was really tough. She had to study all the time, never had time to go out and party and often went sleepless because of all the studying. She didn't have time for a boyfriend and didn't really have many college friends because of all her studying.

He then asked how her friend Mary, who was attending the same college, was doing. She replied that she was barely getting by. She had a 2.0 GPA, never studied, was very popular on campus and was at parties all the time. She often wouldn't show up for classes because she was hung over.

He then asked his daughter why she didn't go to the Dean's office and ask why she couldn't take 1.0 off her 4.0 and give it to her friend who only had a 2.0. That way they would both have a 3.0 GPA.

The daughter fired back and said, "That wouldn't be fair, I worked really hard for mine and my friend has done nothing."

The father smiled and said, "Welcome to the Republican Party."
Heh, heh, heh.

Well, I'm going to have to come up with a name for him soon. (See yesterday's post.) My father-in-law read my blog and said, "The only thing that comes to mind is SHOCK AND AWE." This may stem from some behavior problems that surfaced when he and Nana were watching the boy while I was out of town. The Drool was still taking a bottle, and it had to be warm. Nana handed him a bottle that was chilled, and he whipped it across the room. Didn't taste it first, but made the determination that it was not the correct temperature simply by the feel in his hand.

Aunt S. brought that story up when she suggested The Tyrant. I like that too.

Tonight he was taking a bath and he UNLOADED in the tub. It was horrible. I spent a few moments wretching before I regained enough equilibrium to hall him out of the mess and start cleaning. There is not enough bleach in the world to make you feel the tub is clean after something like that. We may have to remodel.

New to the blogroll: If you like Grouchy Old Cripple you just may like Gut Rumbles. I do. Now go check him out and don't forget to thank me.

Monday, May 12, 2003


Attention family and friends: I have decided that I can no longer refer to our youngest son as The Drool. With eight teeth firmly through the gums...the drooling has ceased, and the name no longer fits. The Crazyweiler has now taken the lead as Most Unappealing Family Member to Kiss Because of Saliva Flowing Off the Lower Lip. Some days I'm a close second.

Right now I'm leaning towards "The Temper." Self-explanatory. I know I'm going to have some negative reactions from the Grandparents, most of whom will want a more positive moniker. I say to them: now's your chance. Let's hear your two cents. I'd also love to hear from anyone else who's met or read about the Infant Formerly Known as Drool and can coin him in a word or two. Hmm...maybe I should just assign him a symbol?

Speaking of IFKAD, he was standing at the baby gate today smacking The Crazyweiler in the chops as hard as he could. The Crazyweiler was watching me slice salami on the kitchen counter and wasn't going to take his eyes off me lest he miss a free will offering. So he had his big, fat head over the baby gate, and IFKAD crawled over, pulled himself up, and started smacking The Crazyweiler's face. Poor could see he was clearly annoyed, but he couldn't take a chance on missing the smallest scrap of food. The hitting didn't stop until IFKAD's little hand slipped up inside The Crazyweiler's upper lip...and was covered in a thick saliva slime. He pulled his hand back, took one dismayed look at it, sat down, and started crying. Poor baby. Didn't your mother ever tell you not to put your hand in a Rottweiler's mouth? Oh, I guess I didn't.
Thou shalt not bear false witness... or how God never had a four year old sneak into his bedroom at night.

So last evening, the VP and I are in bed and just about to wrap up a beautiful Mother's Day. The VP asked if I shut the bedroom door because The Senator has been known to get out of bed and come upstairs to fill us in on important happenings, such as the skid marks in his underwear or the fact that he just took a drink of water out of his cup.

Yes, I shut the door, honey. What I didn't do, however, was replace the plastic child-proof cap on the doorknob to prevent small hands from opening the door. I took it off last Friday so the munchkins could use the bathroom that's off our bedroom.

So there we are..(Note to Nephew M: you are not allowed to read any further)...about to kick off the festivities when we hear the #@!$% bedroom door open. We yank the sheet up to our chins, and The Senator comes marching in and says:
I went to the bathroom downstairs and...Hey! Why do ya have those candles on?
I couldn't think of a lie. I just stared at him and started laughing. The VP pulled the sheet all the way over his head and groaned. Poor kid. Some day he'll think of this and figure it out and get a massive case of the willies. Probably while he's on a date or something. We may have done some permanent damage.

Sunday, May 11, 2003


I asked the VP if he would jot down a few words for his mom. He surprised me and came up with more than a few. The following is from him to his mother, LC.
It is said that a person never appreciates his parents until he has kids of his own. So to my mom on Mother’s Day, I’d like to say “Thanks.”

Thanks for bringing me and my brother up right.

Thanks for putting up with dirty diapers.

Thanks for taking care of us when we were sick.

Thanks for answering a million questions when we were four years old.

Thanks for cleaning up our messes.

Thanks for not yelling when we ended up with more dinner on our shirts than in our mouths.

Thanks for giving us hugs – even when we were wearing most of our dinner.

Thanks most of all for just being there, mom.

Happy Mother’s Day, mom! I love you!


And I would like to add the following:

I have the best mother-in-law in the world. I’m sorry if you think highly of yours, but I still have the best. If she’s ever had a critical thought about me or my housekeeping skills or my parenting abilities…she’s kept it to herself. When I do things she appreciates, she lets me know. She is generous, kind-hearted, funny, and smart and frequently uses these attributes to enrich our lives. She is a wonderful Nana to our boys. She once told me at a very awful time in my life that she couldn’t love me more if I was her own daughter. I never forget that, and I try to deserve it. She raised two wonderful boys, and I hope I can do as good a job with mine. Happy Mother’s Day, LC!


To my own wonderful mother:

Dear Mom,
Happy Mother’s Day!

Every year I write the same thing in the Hallmark cards. I love you. I appreciate you. I can never thank you enough for all you do and have done for me.

How many times have I told you about going off to college and immediately realizing with a Road-to-Damascus flash of blinding light that YOU WERE RIGHT! About EVERYTHING! And how it made me regret that I did my best in high school to try and disprove this and be a general pain in the *ss.

And I hope by now I’ve said thank you for all the volunteering you’ve done for us over the years, including but not limited to: being the art lady at school and the softball coach and the Girl Scout Leader and PTA member and volunteer lunch lady and driving me all over the state to soccer tournaments.

But did you also know…

how much I admire your intelligence? It makes me proud that you whip through the NYTimes crossword puzzles as though you were doing second grade arithmetic. And that your broker listens to your advice. You could have run a country, but you got stuck with us instead.

I also admire how strong you are? Like the years you held down that part-time job in the luggage department at the department store with those nasty old witches who made it miserable for you. Again…for us.

I’m amazed that you raised four well-adjusted kids? I’m not sure how you did it without killing any of us, because I only have two, and there are days when that number comes perilously close to one.

that I'm giggling thinking that while you're reading this touching tribute to your many talents, you're also proof-reading it and making a mental note to remind me that I used incorrect punctuation in the second paragraph?

how often I hope I'm as busy and active and involved in life as you are when my kids are grown?

how my husband wishes I had the same interest and delight in cooking that you have?

how the boys look forward to every visit with their grandparents because you're so fun and creative?

how Breezy secretly admires you and a kind word from your lips is better than a blind, lame squirrel in the backyard trying to find the other side of the fence?

how frequently I think about how lucky I am to have you for a mom? It's not one Sunday a year in May. It's all the time. Every time I realize I could never hang wallpaper or make any recipe that calls for phyllo or hem a pair of pants or have to look up a word in a dictionary or have trouble keeping a geranium alive...I think about how you master it all. And if I turn out to be half as good a Mom as you are...then I have all the more reason to think I'm lucky.

Thanks for being my wonderful mom! I love you.

Saturday, May 10, 2003

Just went for a walk. The Senator rode his bike while I pushed The Drool in the stroller. The Senator stopped along the side of the driveway and watched a small gopher disappear down its hole. The Senator peered into the hole and then spit into it. I asked,
Why in the world did you do that?

"To make him miserable."
I didn't know what to say after that. I don't know where he came up with the idea. I'm pretty sure Bob the Builder doesn't spit down gopher holes. I think I'm going to pin this one on Tom and Jerry.

Note to Nana and Buppa: We saw two orioles and lots of hummingbirds today. The gardens look great and you're missing out on some fantastic asparagus.
I was speaking with The Professor this morning. For those of you who don’t recall…The Professor is a diabolical retiree who I mistakenly let care for my children while the VP and I were on vacation. The Professor used all his talents as an evil genius to attempt to destroy the four and a half years of obedience training that I've put in on my sons. Unluckily for The Professor, The Green Goddess (master gardener, child-rearing whiz, and his spouse of many years), was there to foil several of his more sinister plans.
I think the boys need ice cream for breakfast, right honey?

No dear. Maybe just for lunch and dinner.
Thanks, Mom!

So The Professor tells me this morning, “You should write more about the boys and the dogs and stop linking so much to other sites. Everyone does that.” You know…if he would finally bite the bullet and get his own blog…he’d see for himself how quickly one becomes a Link Whore in order to see your own name on other sites.

But, Cathy in the Wright tries to please. So here is some dribble about the boys:

Wright County Household Overrun by Midgets
Yesterday I was unable to blog because The Senator invited several of his preschool buddies over for a playdate. Those friends also brought along their siblings, and while I never got a final head count, the noise level would seem to indicate we had at least 50 small children running wild through the house.

We moms had a good time. When the kids get into that pack mentality, they actually become rather low maintenance. We stayed in the kitchen and had a mini-hen party. I offered to open a bottle of wine or crack open some beers, but they all declined. One had a few of her daycare kids along, and she thought the county licensing board might frown upon drinking on the job. This is why we need smaller government.

Still, a good time was had by all. Nothing was broken. No major stains on the carpet. (That I’ve found yet, anyway.) The Senator was hoarse by the time his friends all left. He took a “rest” on the couch after the last one departed. A rest is his way of admitting he’s tired without having to submit to the childish indignity of a “nap.”

The Drool slept through most of the activity, and when I found myself with a quiet house and two resting kids, I invited our neighbor, who was outside fixing our roof, in for a couple of beers. A couple of St. Pauli Girls later…and I’m thinking it was one successful day.

As for the dogs…they’re still rolling around on their backs with extended bellies after cleaning up after the midgets yesterday. We grilled hot dogs, and I think more meat and buns were dropped on the floor than actually made it into mouths. The Crazyweiler walked around all afternoon with a four inch tendril of drool hanging from his lip.

And The Drool added another word to his vocabulary. “Cook.” This refers to the arrowroot biscuits that we dole out as cookies.

More later, we’re off for a walk before the rain starts.

Git on over to Grouchy Old Cripple and have a gander at this picture. Heh, heh, heh.

Short post for now. I'm going to try this web-pinging thing that Bryan over at Arguing with Signposts suggested I try. And I will. Because he asked so nicely. And in another show of good manners, he thanked me for adding him to my blogroll. And that made me feel good, especially since I should be thanking him for mentioning my blog and linking to me. Thank you, Bryan!

Thursday, May 08, 2003

I broke 1000! Just looked at the old Site Meter. I can't believe my dad checks this site so often!

Also noted on Site Meter: someone Googled "pooped + pants + men" and found me. Heh, heh, heh. I'm picturing some poor freak who is looking for some sick, gay p'nography and found me instead. Although...The Senator did wake me up at 12:30 a.m. to tell me the good news that there were NO skid marks in his underwear.
That's great, why are you out of bed?

"Well, I just had to come up and tell you that."
Thank goodness. It would have been a fitful night of tossing and turning...worrying about your Fruit of the Loom's.
Blog roll update. I'm pretty sure it was Steve H. at Little Tiny Lies who directed me to Arguing with Signposts. And now I must add Bryan to my roll because I read him daily, he's highly entertaining, good with Photoshop, and has a stellar blog roll himself. (Oh, why, is that my site down there at the bottom?) So bookmark him now.

Wednesday, May 07, 2003

Sounds like my brother agrees with my opinion of local talk radio host, Joe Soucheray.
As much as I enjoy some of his rants I'm glad I've never met Soucheray. I'm pretty sure I'd detest him in person.
Sums up how I feel as well. Interesting side note: I had the chance to meet Joe's brother, John. Wonderful guy. Incredibly funny. Very entertaining. The kind of guy you hope can make the family Thanksgiving dinner each year because he'd keep you in stitches the whole time. The VP and I met him on a boat trip given for some of the station's advertisers. John works for the same radio station as Joe. John and Joe certainly resemble each other, but given their personalities...kinda makes you wonder if one was adopted.

Tuesday, May 06, 2003

I was surprised to read this in Lilek's Bleat today:
Note to people who feel compelled to begin talk-radio conversations with “long-time listener, first-time caller” - no one cares. Least of all the host. Nor should you say “as I told your screener . . .” because A) it eats up time and B) reminds everyone of the process that weeds out long-winded dullards, and C) how this process has failed.
Surprised because it sounded rather snotty of Lileks to say that, even if it's true. And snotty is not an adjective I would have ever applied to The Bleat or to its author.

Apparently, I'm not the only one who thinks so. Lawrence at Amish Tech Support wrote:
I listen to a lot of call radio, and I say cut the callers some slack, guys.

After many attempts and lots of busy signals over a week, a month, a year... these folks finally get through. They're excited about talking to the person they thing of as a celebrity. Sure, in real life, like all of us these talk radio people put their pants on one leg at a time and snort his cocaine off the fine tanned ass of a supermodel one line at a time, but the radio and television and silver screen weave a spell on the... fans? Followers? Disciples? Dittoheads?
I also listen to a lot of local talk radio. Garage Logic(tm) is a very popular afternoon show here, but I would never call in because the host, Joe Soucheray, always sounds like a jerk to his callers. Every time he answers a call he sounds annoyed, as if the worst part of his job was dealing with the morons who want to agree with him on some particular point. Soucheray is entertaining on his own (his sidekick, The Rookie...yawn) but I change the station when he's taking calls because it's almost painful to listen to him snip at people as they thank him for taking their call.

Monday, May 05, 2003

Lawdy, lawdy! Company's comin' and I haven't even started bakin the pies. Junior! Go fetch some taters from the root cellar and put the dog out afore he musses my clean kitchen.

Steve H. is making the blog rounds, and Cathy in the Wright is due up tomorrow! Wish I had something funny or interesting to post. Today all I had was SCREAMIN'! The Drool refused to take a nap. I tried everything. Well, almost everything. I was seriously thinking of opening the Bailey's to see if it would knock him out, but I was afraid I'd be too tempted to finish the bottle. Wouldn't look good picking up The Senator at school half in the bag.

So...pretty soon he has to collapse out of sheer exhaustion. You'd think. It's almost 7:30p.m., and he's still going strong. He's stopped screaming for the moment. He's too busy trying to figure out how to dismantle the Diaper Genie.

Screaming again. This time it's The Senator. He's in the tub, and I just informed him that we will be washing his hair as soon as I'm done here.

Sigh. Where's that bottle?
Curmudgeonly & Skeptical is always entertaining. First he points out this article about former president Clinton's desire to remain in the spotlight...and how it's not working. Then he posts this fabulous picture of Hillary. The picture credits the site Strange Cosmos as the creator. So I went there. You should too. If you have a couple of hours.

Saturday, May 03, 2003

Damn! I'm only a Lowly Insect. My brother is a Flippery Fish. I gotta start linking more. Some day, I hope to evolve up to a Crawly Amphibian.
A couple of changes to the blog roll. Rachel Lucas is a regular read, and I'm not sure why I didn't have her over there on the left. Well, okay, I'm lazy. So here she is. Enjoy. Also, Chris Muir's Day by Day cartoon is great. Better than anything that comes in the Sunday funnies.
I was going to post this when it was current. But I didn't. Because I'm lazy. So here it is now. Because it's still funny.
According to Andrea Harris, Michael Jackson is looking for a house in Florida. Now, I don't care where that freak lives, as long as it's not in Minnesota. But some of my favorite bloggers (Frank J. and Steve H.) live in Florida, and I do feel sorry for them. However, think of all the fabulous raw material for blogging....
What a fun day. The Senator had one of his little friends over, and the two of them were playing "Slay the Bad Guy" with swords. All day long. The bad guys were different villians from their favorite cartoons or videos and all of them suffered horrible fates, among which were having hearts cut out and feet cut off and heads chopped into a million pieces. After a while, they ran out of bad guys.

"Mrs. Camp, do you know any bad guys?"

Sure. How about Saddam. He's a real bad guy. He hurts people and steals their pet goldfish and steps on their flowerbeds. Last time I saw him he was hiding in The Drool's bedroom. You better go get him.

And off they went. Saddam was promptly found hiding under a chair and was immediately cut up into a million pieces.

"Do you know another bad guy?"

You bet. How about Fidel? He's going to be tricky to catch because he's rather oily, but if you can grab his beard, you've got a good chance of defeating him.

Fidel didn't make it one round. He was killed, chopped up into a million pieces, and fed to The Crazyweiler. And so on and so forth. We went through all the dictators I could think of, and then we moved onto the Democrats. We decided not to kill the Democrats, but merely lock them away for life. The Senator's friend, however, came up with a good one for Ted Kennedy. I warned them that Ted was a big guy so it would probably take both of them to catch this bad guy.

"And when we do," said The Senator's little friend, "we'll shove his head in the toilet and then lock him in jail.

Good idea, Sara.

I love this game.

Friday, May 02, 2003

The picture at the top of this post could have been taken at one of my games. Especially in one of the co-ed leagues. A red card for that? You must be mad! Heh, heh.

I've always disliked French cooking. After reading this, I hate it. Are the French naturally this repulsive, or do they have to try?

Beautiful day today. Too bad I was too sleepy to truly enjoy it. The Drool woke up last night and screamed for ten straight minutes. Ten minutes doesn't sound like a long time, does it? You try screaming for 5 minutes. 45 seconds seems like an eternity, doesn't it? I couldn't figure out what was wrong with him. Finally I said, "Want to listen to some music?" Turned up the volume on the classical music station that is always playing in his room. He stopped crying and put his head on my shoulder. A few minutes later, he was asleep. First time I've ever been thankful for MPR programming. About time I got something for my tax dollars. And I still hope Pawlenty cuts them off.

Thursday, May 01, 2003

This gives a whole new meaning to "Here's a quarter, call someone who cares." Tee hee hee.