A Homeschool Family

Spent the weekend having too much fun with our friends from Bakersfield. Jeannette and I have grown up together since we were TINY. I HAVE to tell you guys a story about the two of us but I actually need to spend some time writing it and I've been playing instead. (I'll do it later this week.) So, in the meantime, here's another Tim Hawkins clip. He was homeschooled his whole life and WE are homeschoolers so, we've both earned the right to poke fun at ourselves. Enjoy! (It's very short and the guy that plays the dad IS Tim. :) ) This is also what much of the world thinks we do and are, which I find almost funnier than the video!

Things You Don't Say to Your Wife

Oh, I just love you guys. I went and read some of your comments again and you are either too good to me or you downright split my seams with the things you say! And I'm feelin' pretty happy, and silly, and generally willing to laugh over anything stupid so I dare NOT look in the mirror!

I get to see an old, funny, wonderful, and very best friend and her hysterical husband this weekend and when we get together, I am always in danger of hospitalization from laughing so hard. They're coming in tomorrow from out of town and J'Nett and I have been friends since we were four-years-old. She used to beg me to let her play with my waist-length hair and braid it while we sat staring at the tv. Back then I didn't want ANYBODY messin' with my hair - and it looked like it. Now, I'm a much more grateful woman. Do you want to play with my hair? Do my nails? Rub my feet? I'm there. And I'll be there for you, too.

On the Fourth of July we were at a party where a dear friend had a bad headache. I rubbed her neck and shoulders to try and help and gave her some tips on how she could sit in the tub relaxing, while working on her neck. Someone said, "That's pretty hard to do to yourself." I replied, "Not nearly as hard as gettin' your husband to do it!" and then we all agreed and had a good laugh at our husband's expense and they were all sittin' 10 feet away and having a good laugh at our expense. Good times.

So in honor of good times, good friends, and good marriages that let you poke good fun at each other - isn't good a good word?! - let me share a good video with you (from Tim Hawkins) that should give you a good laugh. It's short, so don't be scared. I'm leaving to go shopping and I'll take my thesaurus to bed with me tonight so I can come up with another good word.

Have a good weekend! Good-bye!

Well, Just Lookie Here!

I’m movin’ all uptown and everything!

Well, this is uptown for ME. My dear, sweet, good friend, Debbie, over at Jadehollow, made me the little button you now see to your right under the “Grab My Button” banner. You can copy my HTML code underneath it and add this onto your blog if you love me with your whole, devoted, undying heart like me and want others to be able to find me easily. For that I will pay you vast sums of money in foreign currency thank you sincerely and try to be less annoying.

Now this is the sad part: Debbie made this over a month ago. She spelled out EXACTLY how to apply it so that the truly computer deficient among us (she was looking at my picture) would be able to follow her VERY-easy-and-beautifully-simple instructions. Did I find that helpful? Well, I would have if I were just merely deficient. However, I hold the World Cup title in this category.

I kept meaning to contact my IT department for support but she kept graduating, and going to parties, and being a general teenager, so let’s just say she’s been backed up. But this historic night I actually invoked my rare thought processes and remembered to go back to Debbie’s email, get IT in here, and utilize all this good information. And look what “we” accomplished!!

NOW HEAR THIS – IT BENEFITS YOU!

Because Debbie got sick of listening to me whine and groan and complain she wanted to help me troubleshoot all these Blogger problems, she sent me to a place called Southern Hospitality for information on a program called “Windows Live Writer.” Debbie said it was absolutely the best thing since raccoons rode on hogs’ backs (you’ll have to see her post yesterday to know what the heck I mean. Those folks got some STRANGE stuff goin’ on in Georgia….!) She guaranteed me I would love it and stop using salty language (doesn’t that make me sound like I’m 90? I’ve got a 5th grade boy and a 90 year old woman – geez – it’s gettin’ BUSY in here). All I can say is, I DO love it! I can feel myself cuttin’ down on salt now, dangit (oops!). And then I found out Debbie herself wrote a post about this on Sunday (which I somehow missed) and it is even MORE informative and it's called Windows Live Writer - Oh, How I Love Thee. She will teach you how to do extremely creative things with your photos.

So if YOU hate struggle with Blogger and moving photos around, or would like to work in a much more professional, user-friendly program, then head on over and get the down-low and the download.

And Debbie? I’m sorry I’m so late to the party but you KNOW how I like to make an entrance!

Observational Twitter 19

Published Quote and Lofty Adult Observation:

"The ultimate test of a relationship is to disagree but to hold hands." ~Quoted by Alexandra Penney in Self

Obscure Quote by Woman Who Channels a 5th Grade Boy:

"The ultimate test of a relationship is to disagree but to hold hands. Squeeze as hard as you can until all the blood goes out of the other person's hand or they cry "Uncle" and then you're the winner." ~Robynn

Ah....it's gonna be a good week.......I'm havin' fun already!

The Answer to Yesterday's Post Question....

The answer, my friend, ain't blowin' in the wind.....it was on the lips of my children. "Do we HAVE to go to the fireworks? We're having a REALLY good time here with our friends." So, there you go. The answer is, "No." I can't do both. But I'm popular with my kids tonight since I didn't drag them down to the school. I guess that'll do. But I have a rockin' plan for next year. And they're doin' it, dang it!

Happy Foursh-a-Guh-Lie!

Thus it will ever be called and pronounced in our household, thanks to The Wild Man. Around two-years-old he came alive to the realization of Independence Day, The 4th of July. And we're corny enough to still use his tiny-boy description. Do you do that? Do you continue to call anything by the name your kiddos dubbed it when they couldn't quite pronounce things? Bo called french fries "ep-ripes." So, that was what we called them for awhile. TWM came along and they were "eye-yies" ("yies" rhymes with eye - just couldn't figure out how to spell it.) Consequently, we occasionally say we're goin' to In-N-Out for cheeseburgers and aye-yies, or ep-ripes. Maybe we can't let go of their babyhood. I'm okay with that.

The Foursh-a-Guh-Lie was TWM's day. He dreaded it like a root canal and looked forward to it like Christmas. When he was two and three and we went to big displays, he cried through the whole thing and clung to his dad like I cling to the memory of being a size 3 (I was once, for half-an-hour, and you'll never take it from me!). He screamed and ducked while we assured him he was perfectly safe. As soon as he got in the car, he asked when we got to go again. Ah, that's my boy. Much of his life has included the old love/hate relationship. He takes after his mother.

The next year when he was four, we took him to Buchanan high school where they were putting on their first fireworks display. We set the blankets out and tried to peel our son off long enough for him to enjoy the bang and pow of it all. He held us in death grips. Whoever ran the operation had not accounted for the burning cinders that fall from the sky and had set up the firing point far too close to the crowd. We were in the path of Pompeii. As curled up pieces of burning paper floated to the ground and the occasional chunk of cinder landed on the beach blanket, Grizzly and I shot each other looks knowing that if we ran, he would be forever scarred. So, we silently weighed physical scars against emotional ones, and stayed put. Bo got into the action and helped us stamp out the little coals as we all assured him it was perfectly wonderful and nothing could be more normal. I must say, we haven't been back to Buchanan since, though we're considering it tonight.

Girzzly was always into fireworks and TWM couldn't wait until the stands went up. He watched for them weeks in advance and marked their coming with the exultation of a Kodiak bear during a salmon run. Bo was pretty excited herself and was ready to fork out her little dough for the promise of sound and colors and fire. I was the dud and wondered why people would spend wads of money on things that would burn in a matter of minutes. It seemed nuts but my big kid influenced my little kids and I could either join in the fun or get over myself. I embraced the latter.

For years we met the neighbors out in the street and had a quasi-block party of it. Then the main neighbor stopped participating and things sort of fizzled. Also, our firecrackers from New Mexico were offered up to the fire gods (also known as the local police - however, they do much good so of course, we love them! Do you hear that, local police?!) one year. They had been sitting at the end of the block with their lights off and when they heard them, they pulled up and stuck out their hands. They then went home with them and maybe some of their famlies got to use them. I like to think so. At least they would be put to good use.

You have to be careful because nearly everything is illegal in California and the police are charged with making sure we all know it. If you live here, you try to accept being boiled alive slowly, like that proverbial frog, and protected from yourself endlessly. For years you couldn't even get those little, black things we called "worms" when I was a kid. You know the tiny discs you lit with a match and they grew and grew in crazy long shapes? Those were downright deadly, I guess. I think the movie "Tremors" was based on their wanton thirst for human flesh. What other reason could there be? (We got them back a few years ago.)

We continue to be thrilled and amazed we still get to light matches here. But we do. And that was another right-of-passage.

Grizzly was working out of town when one 4th came along and Bo was certain they could handle the fire part of the works. One neighbor joined in for a bit while Bo and TWM duked it out over who should serve as fire king or queen. They are so precious together. :) Soon, another neighbor showed up and his bossy kid outbossed my kids and we couldn't get our hands on our own fireworks. Where's a husband when you need one?

Then we started celebrating with friends at a party where we all chipped in for a fireworks display. Soon, that party got moved to the home of other friends (the husband being one of the police officers we know and love) and then we just watched fireworks from the distant country advantage of a very dark night sky and no personal displays. The fire danger is too high out there. But the fun and friend factor is also high with 50-70 of our closest friends so the kids have usually voted to say good-bye to the displays and hello to socializing. But we still bought a few things and lit them up when we got home.

I don't know this year, though. This was the first year TWM wasn't counting his change and took the erecting of the stands in his stride. No big deal. What? What does that mean? This is HIS DAY! Have we kept him from the thrill for too long? This makes me ambivalent about the party. One fire-fanatic is grown and the other is on his way and taller than I am. I may need to revisit Pompeii and remind them of the former days with a night-sky rush. This ISN'T just another day, after all. It's Independence Day. It's the Foursh-a-Guh-Lie!

I have a little pang. Is there any way we can do both? I'll let you know.

Welcome Back My Friend to the Show that Never Ends!

I have so many useless fascinating things to tell you that I absolutely couldn't get started. Pay attention now. Raptly. Pay rapt attention. What a weird word. Where the heck does THAT come from?

Hold on.....I'm looking it up........okay, here it is....."from the latin 'raptus'.....to carry off, seize......synonyms: ecstatic, spellbound, bewitched. Also having to do with a gift giving tradition: 'I rapt your presunt cuz I coodnt find a gift bhag.' Additionally, has been used to describe a mind-numbing form of lyrical quasi-melody - Rapt Music - most glorified through massive misogyny, i.e., 'I get my kicks from beatin' chicks, but only those with a great big booty, who think I'm fine though I got no looty.' "

I may have mixed some usages as well as spellings. Disregard the former directive to pay attention. Do not pay anything in the way of attention. You would be wise to click over to the other blog you wanted to read now.

Do you see how troubled I am?

First, there was the little fact of leaving paradise at 7500 feet in the Sierra Nevada Mountains. Remote camping, no one around for miles, days of 65-70 degree weather, pristine air, crisp nights. And then there was driving down the mountain and descending into Hades, aka as Fresno, average summer temperature: 158 degrees. We came in on one of the cooler days at only 108.

After that came my directive to everyone to put everything away that didn't need to be washed.

One sock went into one drawer.

I have four hundred loads of laundry to do. Well, that's a lie. I've done four loads. That makes 396. I'm more encouraged now that I see it in print. Every sleeping bag - and we took eight because there are four of us - and all blankets we've ever owned (and a few I could swear we were only considering at the store) must be de-dirted, de-smoked, de-haired, and de-sapped. De-sgusting. But wait! There's no time for all THAT......hurry and get your daughter to her de-tooth appointment!

But not before you turn in final transcripts to the college! Yes, that's right! How did you forget THAT little tidbit? What? The transcripts I turned in don't include her graduation date? Do you think she did this complete four years and 28 college units just for fun? Doesn't it LOOK like she would have graduated? But of course, we would love to resubmit them in the corrected form, you darling, you (truly, couldn't have been sweeter about it, darn it).

And oh yes!! What was I thinking?! How in the WORLD did I forget to fill out the FAFSA (financial aid) even though we won't qualify for grants and subsidies for college? We are the working middle-class. But I have exactly 12 hours to get it done before the cut-off date for the entire year (and possible exclusion from other scholarship opportunities, you Raving Robynn dunder head!) and I am so happy to sit down and look at financial information for several hours because it's actually my hobby. I love numbers. That's why I'm a writer.

And oh, thank you! A flaming arrow to the eyeball from someone who not-so-subtly criticizes the amount of time I spend writing. To some, it's kind of a useless hobby unless you get paid a gazillion dollars. And you can't get paid a gazillion dollars unless you hone your craft. So I write and duck. Encouragement! It's a gift!

And what's that daughter? But of COURSE we must go shopping for special food you will need for your non-chewing recovery. How did I forget that? This will undoubtedly disqualify me for that "Mom of the Year" award I was coveting.

And yes, you smart-alec dentist billing diva tersely informing me the bill will be more than you originally advised. If you use the term "We alREADY have to write-off our NORMAL charges" one more time, I may remove YOUR teeth without the benefit of anesthesia. Your use of the word "write-off" represents a poor command of the English language and reveals your loose grip on reality. It is, in fact, what you agree to with our insurance company in order to get the business they send your way. It is actually the amount you will receive for doing thirty minutes of work - $1800. That's right - start to finish - anesthesia to empty sockets - thirty minutes - I couldn't believe it when they called my name to collect my daughter. That's $3600 dollars an hour to you and me, Mr. and Mrs. Average Person. If you do not feel $3600 dollars an hour is adequate compensation, please take it up with your boss, the DEVIL. And do not attempt to further admonish me. I am a dangerous woman with 396 loads of laundry waiting at home.

And what? Now? My back goes out? Ice-heat-ice-heat-ice-heat. Housekeeping going rapidly downhill.

And poor daughter! In pain, throwing up, miserable. Ice-ice-ice for daughter. Call the doctor at 11:30 p.m. He is very nice and has no tone. He KNOWS he makes $3600 dollars an hour. He is a happy man.

Of course, my son! Let me drive you to your sleepover! I'm sorry I'm an hour late in delivering you. What was I thinking, doing, annihilating? Let's go! Isn't life exciting?!!! I'm so sorry you can't take the X-Box 360 with you. It costs a lot of money you cannot afford if you should drop it. And your dad and I don't want you playing video games for the ENTIRE visit like you did with your friend at our house last time because you couldn't walk after attempting to remove your complete knee-cap in a wondrous boy adventure! Wasn't that fun?! I sure hope you have ANOTHER one of those marvelous male moments! LOVE YOU! Bye-Bye!!

What daughter? Are your teeth (well, sockets, to be exact) okay? Are you ill? Why are you calling while I'm taking your brother? Oh? We have company coming by? Oh, isn't that just the best? Oh, no really! She's a darling girl and we love her and it is so sweet of her to think of you. But did you buy mommy an hour so I could hose out the house? What? You didn't? Oh, that's alright. Nothing bothers me. I'm so easy-going. I still feel like I'm on vacation!

There you have it. We're all "rapt" up in life just now. And I've been a tad crabby in the sense that an alligator can grow slightly impatient if you continually pull his tail, gouge his eyeballs with a stick, and remove steak from his mouth during the chewing/swallowing process . But I'm moving out..................................OH! of it, OF IT! (sorry I was daydreaming there for a second), and feeling positively effervescent. And I KNEW you'd want to share in my ebullation. Is that a word?

Hold on, I'll check.