Wild Men Have Birthdays, Too!

A certain person in my life, known as The Wild Man, is turning 14 today.

He is one of the incredible lights of my life. My sunny son. My "point and drive" buddy. (I should post about this - so much fun we've had.) He's a feeler of feelings - you never wonder where you stand. He's a comedian, one-liner delivery man, looks at you and always SEES you. Gives incredibly specific compliments. You never hear just a, "You look nice" from him. It will be tailored to you. He's a chatter box with a million thoughts.

He's the boy I thought was a daughter when I was pregnant. God knew what he was doing! He showed me about men and boys through this wonderful son of mine. I had never known what a healthy, loving, caring male was like from the ground up. He taught me and opened by eyes, and heart, to many more. He loved with beauty and innocence.

He's the one who says, "Come on mom....drive the Jeep up on the median while we're goin' down the street and get around all this traffic....be a FUN mom!" He's a goofball. He can be a bundle of energy and wear you out. He is The Wild Man, after all. He's a tapper of chairs. When he was really little, every morning he would wake up, crawl out of bed, and sneak in my office to tap on the back of my chair and let me know he was there. It was one of our "little things." Then he would climb into my lap for a snuggle. And what a snuggler.

Oh, boy of my heart. Happy Birthday. I love you so very much. I could never have imagined all you would bring. God bless your year. You have blessed my life.

Why The Heck Do You Blog? I Mean REALLY?

I am unstable.

I come from California. I haven't seen many happy cows. Mostly I see them all crowded together and standing on Kilimanjaro size piles of poop. But it's also known as the land of fruits and nuts out here. That I can concur with. I fit right in.

Do you ever find yourself wondering, "What is the MATTER with that idiot?" when encountering someone who does something really stupid or makes absolutely no sense? And then you realize you're having enough trouble just analyzing your own internal landscape? So, how could there possibly be any hope for figuring out another person's issues? And then you go on a long tirade of trying to figure out why you ever did anything you did? And then you give up and eat ice-cream?

Well, I ask myself 13 times a day, "Why do you blog, Robynn?" and I answer with 23 different responses. Because I'm not all there. And I don't do the right ratios in the question-to-answer department. Math was never my best subject.

Lunch and boys were my best subject.

I had the biggest crush on Mike Karastathis when I was in the 5th grade. He was this cute Greek boy. I think he knew I was alive but I'm not sure he cared why. However, Galen (or something like that I can't recall due to extreme horror) knew why. It was so he could fawn over me and gaze at me on his 18th trip to the pencil sharpener. Him and his three teeth and his butch haircut. And his loud personality. And his "won't take no for an answer" pesky ways of following me around and declaring his love for me on an every-minute basis.

I don't write the blog for him.

Where the heck was I? What am I talking about?

On any given moment during the day I will give one of the following answers as to why I blog:

I love to write.

I love to make people laugh.

I love to make people feel.

Because people seem to like it.

Wait, there are only 2 comments. No one seems to like it.

I'm desperate.

I'm the scribe of the family writing down the good, the bad, and the utterly repulsive.

It's for my kids.

Maybe I'll make money someday. It's the beginning of a business.

It's been 3 months and you've made $7.48, Robynn. You're a mogul. Or a mongrel. Give up.

I'll put all these stories together one day and shove 'em in a book.

I love to stay connected with people.

It gives me happy motivation.

It gives me stress....I'll never write anything entertaining again. What was I thinking.

I'm building a writing discipline. Good writers write regularly.

I write for the naysayers. Those who hint to me that I must have a LOT of time on my hands.

I write for the yaysayers. Those who make me feel I have added something to their lives.

I like to share how I'm a mere mortal, stumbling and falling my way forward.

Because I like to connect with people and we connect with people in our humanity, our mistakes, and our weaknesses. Those who are reluctant, or loathe, to reveal their weaknesses can make you feel "less than." Perfectionism isn't that attracting. And we don't really believe it anyway, just so you know, you perfectionists you.

I am a perfectionist. I'm trying to be a good-enoughist. I am in conflict with myself. Where was I? Oh yeah.

Because maybe someone will see that without God's grace in my life, I wouldn't be here.

Maybe someone will realize their need for God's grace in their life and grasp that hope.

I love to write. Did I say that?

If you love to do something and you do it, is it automatically a weakness?

Do you see my struggle with paralysis of analysis?

I am unstable.

So, why do YOU write? I would REALLY love to know. Would you tell me? Then I can obsess about your reasons, too.

Copyright 2009

Observational Twitter 13

Adage:

"When the going gets tough, the tough get going." Joseph P. Kennedy

Epigram:

"When the going gets tough, the weenies accept that they are weak-minded, give up, and go to bed. Goodnight." The Queenie Weenie, Robynn Reilly



Copyright 2009

A Bear Market - Epilogue

To read all the previous chapters of "A Bear Market," click here: Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 and Chapter 3
Hello there. Jojo here. Your canine correspondent. My motto: I will dig as deep as I have to for the truth or a moldy rotten bone - whichever comes first.

It has been on my heart, and weighin' heavy, that lately some things in the truth department have been twisted and bent, or left out altogether and frankly, I'm disgusted. Nice people like you outta be told when they're havin' their chains yanked. There are heroes livin' here who aren't appreciated or even recognized. I'm not namin' names but I think you'll recognize a hero when you see one. I'll let you in on what's REALLY goin' on behind the scenes and set the record straight.

You all probably know my mom's been laid up. What you probably DON'T know is I've been the one keepin' it all together for her. And I'm doin' it in spite of the fact that she has completely ignored the dog's-honest-truth about those bears and the role certain parties played. But abuse has never allowed me to shirk my duty. So first, here's what's goin' on around the house.

I think it's plain to see by this hopeless look on my face that I have my hands full. And let the record show that I am only layin' on the couch to keep that hooligan, Minky, off of it. Dogs aren't supposed to be on the couch around here and I will lay here as long as I need to, to keep her off.

Because not only is she gettin' her out-of-control self up ON the couch, she's stealin' my dad's coffee cup right out of his work bag. The fool dog likes coffee. No one can leave a cup of it sittin' around anywhere but that she's got her fat schnoz stuck right in there and drinkin' it. If I hadn't caught the culprit right in the action, my dad woulda grabbed this out in the mornin' never knowin' she had drug her lollin' tongue all over it. And she tries to pull off this real innocent look while she's in the middle of the crime!

She even tried to steal his cup and drag it away where she could have coffee all by herself. And you know once you start drinkin' alone it's really all over with. I believe she has all the makins of a bonafide juvenile delinquent. But nobody cares much for what I have to say. Even about bringin' her home. They even tried to tell me she was for me, a present of sorts, to keep me young. Wow. Some kinda present. Apparently, makin' a list is pointless. But movin' along.....

While all this was goin' on, I was tryin' to take care of my mom. She was just layin' around lookin' all dejected and miserable. And though she hasn't been fair with me about some things I'm gettin' ready to tell you, I can't help but treat her honorably 'cause that's just who I am. I went to her bed and took her this:


Now if that's not one fine specimen of a good, broken-in bone that anyone in her right mind would love, I don't know what is. But did she chew it? No, she just said, "Ew! Get that disgusting thing off of my blanket!" and threw it on the floor. I took this abuse and turned the other cheek. I just knew my next idea would do the trick.

The doc always tells you to have a lot of water when you're sick so, I led her to the toilet and told her to get a drink. She just looked at me and then sat down on my water bowl. Nice.

I racked my brain and came up with the suggestion we go to the park and told her she could roll around in that nice poop I found over there the other day. I did. It was great. But with her? No sale. She's even still mad at me for jumpin' in. The woman canNOT be comforted. And frankly, I'm outta ideas. So, I figured, I'd post for her and give her a break and, in so doing, I would tell you the truth about the bears and my sleepin' habits.

I read the bad press I got about not waking up when I'm called or when things are going on. This is ridiculous. You need to know that I slept through her calling me when I was in bed with The Wild Man that night, because it is good for her to practice not gettin' so hysterical. I knew she wanted me but she needs to relax and learn to handle her panic better. I wasn't gone. I hadn't run away or been dognapped. And when I heard all that caterwallin' I decided then and there: that is NOT healthy. So I just kept my eyes closed and played dumb. I'm sure you can see my good work and motivation here.

And as far as sleeping through the bear, that was exaggerated, too. I knew the bear was out there! If I had growled or barked, these people of mine would have gotten up and tangled with them. I was trying to keep it quiet. What's a little car damage when your family is at risk? No one gives me any credit for having good sense.

And not only did they not give me credit, they put me in the minivan and went back to bed! I was NOT afraid. I WAS afraid that pitiful excuse for Yogi and her bratty kids wouldn't come back and let me tear a souvenir out of their backsides. That's the look my family saw on my face. It had nothing to do with the smell of bear in there. In fact, I was able to stand on the door handle, open the door, and head out to hunt those mangy maulers the rest of the night. We had a few serious tangles and I left them bloody and horrified. When I was satisfied they wouldn't come back for the night, I got back in the van and conked out. These people will never know what I did for them because I'm not one to brag on myself.

The next night it was me leading the charge in the bear hunt. I tried to drag Grizzly the right way but you can't tell him anything. He's got a gun and a flashlight. Apparently, that trumps guts, a nose, and pure brawn. I don't need a gun. I hate guns. I bark and try to tell him they're dangerous. I've hated them ever since he and The Wild Man got Nerf guns for Christmas when I was only a couple of years old. How I got caught in the cross-fire I'll never know but I had to take a bullet for both of them. And they want me to be excited about this craziness.

I got drug in all the wrong directions the whole night. And all the while Yogi was stalking my mother. I know it was a vendetta for my activities the night before. That she-bear knew I was out looking for her in all the wrong places and she had plans to digest my mother figure. Thank goodness my mom heard that wicked thing behind her and I was able to bark and charge forward. It was my sheer ferocity that saved her but, you didn't hear it from me.

Anyway, I'll get back to figuring out how to help her out around here. I thought about saving her some of my dog food this morning but that seriously challenges all I know to be sacred. I had one piece left....I even took a picture of it and sat for a long time givin' it some serious thought......


And then I remembered how she spun this story against me. She'll just have to do without MY dog food. That'll show her. I'll keep you posted if I see any more flagrant lying.




And don't worry. You'll ALWAYS get the straight story from me.

From Jojo - The HONEST one.

Thank You, Treehouse!

I won an Amazon giftcard from Treehouse Kitchen, aka, The Treehouse Chef! Yay! Thanks Treehouse!

If you've never visited her site you might like to check it out. I've gotten lots of wonderful recipes from her. She makes terrific food and just got done introducing us to some of her favorite things. Go here for food inspiration. :)

On another note.....stay tuned......

I found Jojo looking very guilty by my computer this morning. Apparently, there is now an Epilogue to "A Bear Market," and Jojo has had HER say. She says it will be up later today.

Word Wackiness Contributions

"Froggy Chaos" by Suzanne Brown

Okay.....most of you probably don't go back and read comments so I'm sharing these with you. I don't know why these hit me so funny but they do. And you guys are funnier than they are. Here's what you've come up with so far:

Lady Fi: Tizet: Something you get into when you fly into a panic.. I'm in a real tizet today!

Tatersmama: Dente: Like I could really sink my teeth into this post!!!

Knitnut,Karen: Podunk: Like I'm in a podunk mood today, meaning,nothing is turning out right or I"m dropping everything I touch.

And then you got warmed up:

BZ: Vires: An illness that causes one to not spell correctly (this one made me LOL loving words an all.....!)

Lady Bird World Mother: Reveria: Sounds like very up market party. 'Oh, darling, you simply must have a Reveria... everyone is now, you know..,'

Ga.Farmwoman: Alypsiv: Sounds like a new ski trick down the alp mountains.Or maybe a new baby name.

Kadezmom: Sahlvin: As in "I'm salvin the word's problems one stitch at the time!" (another one that made me laugh out loud)...the southern accent made me think of one I got.......

Robynn: Parple: Purple, in the south.

Tatersmama: No Tief: As in, "I have no tief to eat chocolte wif anyway!" (She was complaining because I didn't send HER any chocolate when she was sick but now I'm asking her to send me some. I lied and told her I did and she didn't get it. But this made me ROFL anyway!)

and BZ was the final entry:

Genetto: (pronounced jen'-et-toe)- Ghetto based DNA(genetics + ghetto) - another LOL.

Thanks for entertaining me while I'm worthless. You GUYS are clever GIRLS!

Prayer Request for Caring Friends

Hi All -

Serious note here this afternoon......

Would you all keep a dear woman, Kaleena, her husband, and their girls in your prayers today? You can read her story here. All three girls are in the hospital right now, very ill, and all, of course, want their mommy. But there's only one of her. And her husband has some serious health issues as well. She also lost a baby son. Life can be so very hard to understand but she is fully leaning on God's grace and provision. Lots of you have walked through extremely tough times and might be able to lend a word of encouragement. And I know your prayers would mean so much.

Also, my Hannah-Bo has taken a turn for the worse after battling something for about three months off and on. This last virus, a week ago, knocked her down before she was back up again. She wasn't desperately ill before that but just extremely tired and couldn't shake a nagging cough. The doctor wants to see her again tomorrow and neither one of us feel like even sitting in the office but, that's the way it is. Anyway, our troubles certainly pale in comparison to poor Kaleena's.