Friday, January 21, 2011

T-Shirt Time!

Seriously? Some one made a t-shirt just for me? Ahhh...

Thursday, January 20, 2011

On The Road Again

Don't want the kid on the bus, getting his arm jostled, so I'm off, to go pick him up.

Headed down the highway. I've set the cruise control at 61/62 mph. Just as I go under the Lewis Street overpass I see an unmarked State Patrol car sitting on the side of the road.

Five cars ahead of me suddenly get religion & hit the brakes. The group collectively slows to 55.


Guys? Speed limit is 60? Could you, would you? As I start to sail into the pack...

Ahhh, never mind. I hit the decel button and, I too, slow to 55 to avoid rear ended the paranoid schizoid in front of me.

The trooper has to be having fun watching everyone freak.

Gotta love the herd mentality.

Wednesday, January 19, 2011

Let's Tear Off All Our Clothes And Run Screaming, Naked Down The Street

"I didn't say that." He declares staunchly.

Ummmm. Okay. Listen to this.

"Yah. It's okay!"

Then try this.

"Yahhhh. It's - okay...."

The first would be taken to mean: It is fine.

The second could denote a variety of things, but the reluctance is obvious. The correct words are there but the tone implies that while it may be tolerable, you're not guaranteeing you won't puke on someones shoes afterwards...


A world of difference. So please stop making excuses. Okay, I'll concede. That may be what you said...but it is NOT what you meant!

No, no, really - no more excuses. You may stop talking now.

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Bumper Snicker

My Attorneys are Smith and Wesson...

We always settle out of court.

Monday, January 17, 2011

NOT On The List of Helpful Things To Do

The Youngest broke his arm.

Jan 1.


Helllllooo 2011.

Had surgery on Jan. 10, put a plate in/on it. Now he gets matching scars, one on the left arm, one on the right arm.


Sent him back to school Thurs. It was a bit much so he stayed home on Fri. At least he got his homework. And so we try to play catch up. He's off the pain pills and has some clarity about him.

He's done a lot better this year and this last quarter had all A's & B's ...except for Spanish. I don't know. Maybe his schedule was just too tight. He has 7 classes plus release time seminary. He was on the swim team and spent quite a bit of time after school with his sports broadcasting class which filmed a lot of the home football, volleyball & basketball games. So maybe it was just too much.

Anyway, Spanish sucks.

Big time.

So we're looking at what he has to make up. There is an interactive lesson site on the Internet. He has a microphone to do the practice speaking sessions and he just doesn't get it. He is too far behind.

Enter Farm Boy. There is no school today because of Martin Luther King Day but Farm Boy has to go to work. No holiday for him. However, before he leaves this morning he is VERY DEFINITE...If The Youngest has not finished his Spanish homework, he announces, he will not take him to school tomorrow. He will not allow him to go back until it is all completed. End of discussion.


Wow. Large & in charge.

Gotta love it when dumb meets dumber.

Let's review.

The kid has missed a total of 9 days of school. Semester finals are this week on Thurs. & Fri. Said kid, has just had major surgery. While he has tried to do the work we've brought home for him he has been in pain & medicated. He needs help catching up and will have to cram as many reviews as possible on Tues & Wed. in order to have a snowball's chance on the finals.

Spanish is a wash. The class will have to be dropped and he'll just have to try again next year.  Farm Boy & I have discussed this.

But this morning...

Ah yes, the ultimate solution. He's behind, so let's hold him out of school so he can get further behind.


Okay, seriously not happening. He will go to school.

But...just because I had to listen to that noise...can somebody, anybody?

Explain the thought process behind that?

Sunday, January 16, 2011

Computers: Male or Female

Found in the "Tidbits" newsletter:

A Spanish teacher was explaining to her class that in Spanish, unlike English, nouns are designated as either masculine or feminine.

House for instance, is feminine: la casa.

Pencil, however, is masculine: el lapiz.

A student asked, "What gender is 'computer'?

Instead of giving the answer, the teacher split the class into two groups, male and female, and asked them to decided for themselves whether 'computer' should be a masculine or a feminine noun.

The men's group decided that 'computer; should definitely be of the feminine gender (la computadora) because:
1. No one but their creator understands their internal logic.
2. The native language they use to communicate with other computers is impossible to understand for everyone else.
3. Even the smallest mistakes are stored in long-term memory for possible later retrieval.
4. As soon as you make a commitment to one, you find yourself spending half your paycheck on accessories for it.

The women's group concluded that computers should be masculine (el computador) because:
1. In order to do anything with them, you have to turn them on.
2. They have a lot of data but still can't think for themselves.
3. They are supposed to help you solve problems, but half the time they are the problem.


4. As soon as you commit to one, you realize that if you had waited a little longer you could have gotten a better model.

Saturday, January 15, 2011

New Hope

"Things work out best for those who make the best of how things work out."
             Coach John Wooden

Thursday, January 13, 2011

On The Road To The Land of Oz

Oh, man.

Thrown under the bus - again.

It would probably be easiest to lay on the pavement and wait until the semi that's coming down the road gets here and finishes the job. However, if one can move but chooses not to - do we still have to explain to Da Man upstairs why we opted for the "easy" way out???

Well crap, who wants to have that conversation.

So one crawls, slowly, painfully to the side of the road. Like one of those bad B movies where they use an assault rifle on the swamp monster but it. keeps. coming. back...

One of my cheery little friend's mantra is..."NEVER GIVE UP, NEVER GIVE UP!"

Lawsy, lawsy, ain't 'self talk' a wonderful thing!

Well, just prop me up in the corner over there. Brush me off and we'll fake it for another go round.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Sexting & Other Assorted Evils

A high school teacher in Churchville, Virginia recently noted in the paper that students at her school attended a program on Internet and online safety. Many of the kids were surprised to learn that cell phone calls don't just go from one phone to another. All text messages and calls are transmitted through cell phone towers, which route the calls or texts to the company's servers. All sent messages and photos are stored on the provider's server. This means pictures deleted from a phone never really are deleted, and text messages and photos never go away. They still exist in the virtual world.

Should those pictures become the center of a court case, the information is subject to "discovery." With the right equipment, law enforcement can retrieve deleted photos from ANYONE'S cell phone.

When photos of underage students are passed around people need to clearly understand that they might be prosecuted for producing, distributing and possessing child pornography. SEXTING is a criminal offense in almost every state in the US. Whoever receives and distributes those photos could be convicted of a felony, serve prison time AND live the rest of their lives as a registered sex offender.

You know there are some pretty outrageous things that can be done with our electronic toys. From cell phones to the Internet, a wealth of information is available. Some of what we see edifies but a vast amount, whether on your phone, email, facebook etc. is just plain shocking.

Texting on a cell phone is convenient but to avoid running afoul of the law The Youngest's phone is simply set up to not accept any texts or pictures. To protect him from any dorky friends who may think that pictures taken in the girl's locker room would be a hoot, the texting feature on his phone is disallowed.

I've chastised my children, especially for things they've posted on facebook. Social networking is right. there. for. everyone. to. see. And before you say, "don't care," stop and think about what an employer might say about your facebook site. Are you mildly ribbing your friends & relatives or are they hurt & offended? Are you striving to be viewed as humorous or are you coming across as a jerk? Me thinks facebook would best be handled with care. A great way to keep in touch with friends and acquaintances. A dangerous place to let it all hang out.

Then there are the blogs. Boy, they come in every flavor imaginable. And for whatever reason you are blogging I'm REALLY sure that you should be able to figure that you're willing to own every word you've written. If your best friend gets a hold of it, are you good? Your boss? The in-laws? The neighbors who irritate the tar out of you? Oh, and how about the Bishop?


There's an old saying that reminds us to think before we talk/write. We're cautioned to ask ourselves... 1) Is it true? 2) Is it kind? 3) Is it necessary? 

I'm totally not saying everything in this blog falls under that criteria!

'Cause yes, I'm going to claim it's all true.

Kind...oh, not always.

Necessary...bwahaha. Guess we'll have to figure out if I would have gotten over myself in time or if I was really thinking I was gonna have to walk up to someone and SMACK 'em and venting here prevented that!

Of course, there are the times that I think my pithy (no pun intended) remarks on human nature are funny. Sorry if it offends but that is just the way I roll...

Ultimately if the Bishop copied this off and was waving a sheaf of papers in front of my nose I'd... well, there might be some interesting conversations with a few people but, what the hey, it would certainly be a place to start that conversation, eh?


Over all I see too many people being way too careless, too casual. We're surrounded by music, TV programs, movies, text messages, Internet postings, pop-ups & emails that are vulgar, rude and destructive.

And I'm pretty sure that's not who we want to be.

We used to warn our children about the dangers of the world before we buttoned their coats and tied their shoes and sent them out the door.

Now they don't even have to get out of their jammies to get into trouble...

Be careful out there, will ya?

Tuesday, January 11, 2011

Dear Abby

The Farm Boy cringes when I read Dear Abby. It makes me laugh.  Great exercise in: When pointing fingers make sure you take a looksee at who is pointing back...

So this gem was about in-law problems.

BITING MY TONGUE in St. Paul, Minn. says: How does one live peacefully and get along with one's in-laws...While I try to respect one another's differences how does one eat at the same table with people who eat with their faces an inch from their plates and chew with their mouths open? How does one tolerate their complaining about everything & everyone? How does one coexist with people who think they're perfect and the rest of the world is flawed. I thought about giving them an etiquette book as a gift, but my spouse told me not to waste the money.

ABBY replies: An etiquette book would help only those who recognize they needed to consult one. The way to deal with your in-laws is, first, to remember they did one thing right: They produced your husband. Because their table manners offend you, visit them after mealtime whenever possible. When they complain, respond with something positive or tactfully redirect the conversation to another subject. When they present themselves as perfect, never disagree - and see them as infrequently as possible.

Ah, yes, tried & true advise.



How long has it been since I've seen the kids?


Monday, January 10, 2011

Playin' Barbies

40 some odd years ago, I used to go over to Susan Hicks house and we'd play Barbies. She had a bunch o' dolls - various Barbies, a Skipper, Midge & two Kens. We'd dress them up & down, have short, imaginary conversations between them and then change clothes...again.

It was like washing your hair. Lather, rinse, repeat.
Fast forward. Now everyday, morning & night, I go to feed Padwon. While I'm there I do the routine check that any responsible horse owner would do...look for cuts, lameness or just the dull eye that indicates trouble.

Also I do a quick groom job. Especially if her coat is matted. Hard for a winter coat to provide extra insulation if it's all mucked up. Sometimes tho, I fall prey to my brushes and combs and turn into a 10 year old again. Her flaxen mane is combed until it flows, the golden hair is fluffed and even the leg feathers are puffed. I don't stop until my little blond beauty shines.

The other day I had one of 'my moments' and the girl friend was looking good when I was finished with her. I was thinking "That's one sweet looking little horse."


I came back out in the evening.


She was a mess. Caked mud all over the place. Let's keep in mind that it did not rain/snow and that she has access to a dry spot to lay in under the shed, also the pasture wasn't actually soggy and she could have picked several spots to lie on or roll in that would not have soaked her to the bone in the freezing temps, but noooo....


You know, as you get older the irony and futility of housework strikes home on a regular basis. In a traditional home the man goes out the door every day and...builds a barn, makes a fence etc. When he's done he moves on to another project. His body of work stands as a monument to his life. A woman spends a great portion of her day baking bread, preparing meals, washing dishes, fixing the bed, wiping noses, doing the laundry & folding the clothes. All consumable activities that as soon as she finishes them, start all over again.

It wears on the soul.

And so dear horse what's to do with you?

Lather, rinse & repeat?

Thursday, January 6, 2011


I'm trying to work on my genealogy. I've opened the computer room at Church, gotten up. Carrie drops in and sets up an appointment for her Laurels to use the computers. There is a little time to kill before mutual starts so she sits a spell.

She leaves and Betty has some questions. So we chat and talk about some solutions.

We're at the tail end of our conversation and I am just starting to reach across the keyboard to load a census when Turk shows up.

He needs to get into the clerk's office. No, I don't have a key. Well, the Bishop said he'd be here in 15-20 minutes, meanwhile he needs to be entertained.


"Can you get Elder Davis' blog up on that computer?" He asks.

Sure. So we read Elder Davis' latest entries. Then we chat about Turk's family.

Lovely, lovely man, but I'm not getting a lot done.

Going on 30 minutes.

He launches into an internet joke he received. Starts with, "There's this Catholic Priest"...I roll my eyes. He grins and and continues by telling me that the guy was transferred to a new parish in Washington D.C. and when he opening his bedroom curtains the first day he was there, he looked out and saw a dead jackass on the lawn.


What was he to do? So he started calling around but no one was at all helpful on solutions to remove the donkey. He was starting to get a bit irate and decided to 'go to the top". He gets back on the phone and calls Nancy Pelosi. Tells her the situation. She is VERY busy and just explodes. "I'm an important person, I have tons of work to do. Why are you calling and bothering me about this jackass? You're a priest. Take care of it. What do you usually do when there is a death?"

"Well," he replies. "I do just what I'm doing now. I immediately notify the nearest living relative."

Okay, still laughing.

Turk. Bless his soul.

He decides to go look for the Bishop.

It's getting a little late but there's time to lookkkk...

"Hey!" "Whatcha guys doing?"

"Umm, genealogy?"

Pat sits herself down to chat. The talk centers generally around genealogy & extracting but it appears that's she fairly comfortable that the bulk of her work has been done. Still she asks random questions. I answer & we have a nice little conversation.  My other compatriot looks up from her computer occasionally but she's hot on the hunt and goes back to work.

8:30 pm. It's time to leave. I've been here two hours, but genealogy?

Well...not so much.

Pat looks around as we prepare to shut down. She says her daughter should be getting back to the church anytime now, right? We close the door and all amble off together as she goes to look for the kid.

You know some things HAVE to be done. But many things in life have a certain amount of flex to them and I just hope when there is a choice to be made that Turk and my other friends know that they're important. And I hope that I remember to make them feel that way.

Monday, January 3, 2011

Gotta Love People... Kinda, Sorta

The boss gets on the computer first thing this morning at work....

And finds a man has lodged an official complaint.

It seems the tracking system showed that a parcel was delivered to this man's house Friday but he says it never happened. He was outside taking down Christmas lights and saw the rural route driver stop at his mail box but - no package.

So he files a complaint.

Our boss calls him to get details.

Then the boss calls the driver.

Driver says, "Uh, yeh, the guy was outside just like he said. And while he watched a small parcel was scanned and placed in his mail box along with the rest of his mail."

The boss now calls the complainer back. Says the parcel was indeed delivered.

"Nope," the guy responds.

"Yes," the boss says.

Apparently they agreed to disagree and the call was terminated. A very short while later the phone rings. A somewhat chagrined customer explains that the parcel was found....

Wait for it! 


Right where it was left three days ago. He says he thought the wife went and got the mail, and she thought he went and got the mail...

I was left shaking my head in disbelief.  They sat in front of their computer, saw that the tracking system said the parcel had been delivered and BOTH of them were too lazy to walk their backsides, 30 feet, out to the mail box to look. 


Saturday, January 1, 2011

To Be or Not To Be

My mother is a huge fan of Dooney Bourke. They make shoes, purses, luggage. Don't really know that much about them but if it's Dooney Bourke, Ma goes gaga over it.

I love shopping at Nordstrom's basement. 50 - 70% off? Count me in!! I'm also a huge fan of thrift shops. That old saying about one person's trash being another's treasure? So true! I'm not into junk but many items at Goodwill or DI can be cleaned, repaired, refinished etc. and be as good as new.

So when I found a little, leather, Dooney Bourke purse at our local Goodwill for $7.99 I snatched it up, and when it was cleaned & polished it looked brand new. I gave it to Ma and she was thrilled!!!!! She knew approximately how much it would retail for but before she could get all excited I told her where I found it, and that, while I got it for a really good price, when I saw it, I thought of her and hoped that she could use it and would like it...

She looked a bit taken a back for a moment and inspected it again. Then apparently decided it met muster. Now, every time we take her out she "rushes" to get her little purse. Same thing with the Dooney Bourke shoes I found for her on eBay...

So, like I said, I love thrift shops. Don't have a problem when someone shares something with me that is not "new" (I like to think of it as vintage) or maybe even is a regifted long as it appears that they CARE.

Therein lies a problem.

How do you say you care? Does it involve copious amounts of money? Fancy wrapping? Or is it filling a specific need? Knowing that she likes milk chocolate not dark chocolate? Taking a little extra time out of your schedule to help?...

We all do it in different ways.

The other day I was about something. It was going to make me a little late and when I called Farm Boy to let him know I wouldn't be home on time, it offended his sense of justice. He got in a bit of a snit and remarked..."They wouldn't do the same for you!" I had to point out that he, undoubtedly, was right. But I was trying to be nice.

Oh I know there are days when I look like I'm vying for membership in "The Bitchin' Wives Club." But I match those with days where it looks like I'm actually trying to get a leg up on that Charity thing.

You may not notice, but I do have my moments ... Someday I may accidentally turn into a good person.

I'll let 'cha know how I'm doing - later.

(Insert a smirk here) 

Meanwhile, that last regifted item I received?  The one that spoke volumes about how much she valued my friendship? The (unwrapped) token of her esteem that was thrown in my lap?

Ah, well. Let's just say I found a realllly special place for it.