Out to Lunch ~ Will return before 2008

What Christmas is all about...

We are having a Charlie Brown Christmas

The Crumb Snatchers are really into Charlie Brown and Peanuts these days. When they saw A Charlie Brown Christmas...the world as we know it stopped to pay absolute homage for those blessed few minutes! They love reciting Linus' true meaning of Christmas speech and they love the Charlie Brown tree. Since we are so far behind the real calendar we thought it might be a good idea if we let them decorate a CB tree of their own so we did not have to drag out all the Christmas paraphernalia. Well, it was not a good idea...it was an outstanding, fantastic, "who was the brilliant person who thought up that?!" kind of idea! Watching them contemplate, heavily weigh, discuss, and analyze the selection of the actual tree and adornments then commence the decoration was like watching Benedict perform High Mass at the Vatican...it was that holy, serious and unforgettable. We may do this every year from now on. Forgive my pictures please. An elf who lives in Connecticut said I am receiving a super new camera in a couple days time...Woo Hoo! There will be no telling what will show up on this blog after that!

I so wish I was an award winning photographer. This tree truly looks, tilts, and sags just like the real Chuck Tree.

This star picture is actually pretty, but trust me, it is as tacky as they come. How do you like those cheap little red bows and sequin garland? Yep. I said sequin.

#1 had to have this one footed nutcracker "Cause I was one...am one, want to be a real one...". That my friends is another story altogether. I'll post it sometime soon. A little teaser would be this statement. Our son, who has been Superman for the past four years on Halloween decided to change his costume this year. It just happened to be the day after the Big Shooter and I were having the "are you sure he will have enough testosterone to get him successfully through puberty" question/discussion because of the whole testicle amputation thing at his birth. #1 chose that particular moment to adamantly inform me he was going to be the Nutcracker Prince for Halloween... I thought his dad was going to pass out on the spot. But the pictures I have for scrapbooking are adorable.

Someone familiar with Peanuts please answer this dilemma once and for all in our household please. On CS is completely convinced this decorated ornament is exactly like one on Chuck's tree. If any one has the answer/verification to this very pressing question, peace may reign again in our home. Thank you from the Head Supervisor of Homeland Security.

Merry Christmas!

Found this under the tree...

This would be Crumb Snatcher #2's handy work. As Momma, I will cherish it. I love the light effects on Rudolph's nose & the fact it "was harder then I thout" to be good all year. As Teacher, I am wondering if I should be concerned she can spell a long word used once a year (reindeer) and a regular sight word she uses daily is spelled "cood"... Poor thang. Who's her teacher any way? Them kids need some proper learnin'! Some one please turn her into DHS so she can finally have a vacation...they always give 'em back. Sooner or later...

Santa Claus is coming to town...

What...is...this? Did I really agree to this? What was I thinking?!? These are all the questions that keep running through my head. However, the kid in me is so freakin' excited I can hardly contain it.

Santa a.k.a. Grampa is giving the crumb snatchers a whole new category in childhood memories. The momma in me hopes there are no chapters entitled "I broke every bone in my body and lived to tell about it." or "Mommee, why, why...whhyyyy did you agree?" The kid in me hopes there are chapters like "Did you see that?!" and "Personal records we keep breaking...again and again."

The most fun aspect of the whole deal? The Crumb Snatchers don't have a clue! In fact, I have gone out of my way to make them think they are getting silly, "smile cause it's your sweet relative giving you a gift" kinda gifts from Grampa and Granny M. Hee, heee, heee (read in a diabolical way please). They have no clue they are ending their festive gift opening evening in Connecticut with a scavenger hunt that finally leads them to helmets and a visit to this blog site to see Big Shooter showing them their ultimate gift waiting for them at home in Plainsville. Side Note:
Yes, he is wearing pajama bottoms...you will have to excuse him. It really is my fault...kinda, sorta...well, kinda really.

You see he had some dental work done, really deep dental work. (I will not give you the details b/c as most of you know, I don't know the details or I'd pass out. I am getting dizzy just imagining the depth, damage, digging...oh, God just take me now!) Anyway, my big, virile, manly man of a husband was writhing in pain the entire night. So I, being the loving, caring, and of sound mind wife that I am (now snickering allowed), gave him all the drugs he asked for. Which since he has a very high tolerance to pain killers turned out to be quite a bit. 8 Lortabs, 6-8 Motrin (I can't recall the exact amount. That's bad isn't it?) and 3 Benadryal (that amount I know, because it caused him to finally pass out and let me sleep longer than 10 minutes...sorry, I meant sleep soundly). All in about a 15 hour time period. By morning I figured he obviously needed something more potent so as soon as I thought it was okay to call the dentist, I did. And asked for Percocet...for me. Just kidding, for Big Shooter too.

So now it is needless to point out the fact that he was really not quite all together when he left the house this morning. It dawned on me he was still in his pj bottoms as he was leaving the drive way. When I shared this information with my father he asked, "...and you didn't call him?" Confused, I answered, "Noooo. Why would I? It will make a great post on my blog..." There was momentary silent contemplation on the other end of the line, then laughter. Poor Big Shooter. He doesn't read my blog too often so he won't know. Unless of course ya'll all tease him about his plaid pjs...

Christmas Hams

How much wood can a woodchuck wood?

That is the question on every one's lips these days. Crumb Snatcher #2 is a little over 4 feet tall just to give you a perspective. These piles now line all our neighborhood streets. Crumb Snatcher #1 asked when the Wood Chucker was coming to grind it all up.

Here are a few before/after shots.

I am so relieved how fabulously those beautiful crepe myrtles stood back up!

I don't think there is any improvement across the street. In fact, it looks worse over there.

View from the porch is now the huge pile #2 was standing in front of above.

~ And now the reason for my extreme case of Lectricity Guilt...

You see my valiant, loving and very protective Big Shooter wanted nothing more than to get us out of harm's way to a dry, warm shelter. So on day 3 he shipped us up an hour and a half north to a friend's lake cabin. While our sweet Daddy-O, neighbors and friends were facing sincere hardships, the Crumb Snatchers and myself enjoyed warm showers, home-cooked meals and heat. OH the guilt! We happily endured no phone service and an over flowing toilet b/c we had power to charge up cell phones and operate a wet vac...

#1 came down with a fever and so #2 got to enjoy the season's first snowflakes all by her itty bitty lonesome...she didn't enjoy it in the slightest...

Next day, #1 felt better and scraped every last ice crystal off the deck furniture to make a snowball to huck at the peaceful wildlife...aww, the wonders of testosterone.

On Set of Ice Storm Alzheimer's

I have been wondering if I have early symptoms of Alzheimer's. I cannot get past the fact that Christmas Eve (the BIG DAY at our house) is a mere 4 days away (only 3 if you're still shopping...), our 15th anniversary was 2 days ago, we are rushing to the PO to send out gifts (that will NOT reach their destination on time for any of you far off relatives reading this..). And the most puzzling to me is how BDP has gone through a whole giant bag of food so quickly... I am hoping these huge time lapses I have going on in this crazy brain are due to the fact we didn't have, what we now call the "Staple of Life", electricity for 8 verry long days. I've decided it's kinda like falling through ice. After the initial shock, you don't panic too much b/c you think maybe you can get out on your own (well, I would panic, but that doesn't fit my story...), then you realize how dire the situation really is. No hairdryer for Big Shooter! Oh No! The tragedy! The pain. The sorrow... Then you may flail around wasting precious time and energy trying in vain to get yourself out. Then you panic, wondering how to warm the house to maybe just 45 degrees or what about the 300 lbs. of meat in the freezer, or what in the world do you do with the crumb snatchers in this predicament? (Go ahead, suggest something. Just keep in mind - it's below freezing outside, 42ish inside and NO ONE in OK has electricity...) Hopefully, after a bit you calm down a little and start treading water. Translation: Drive around in a warm car wasting gas you sat in a line for an hour and a half to get or shop/loiter at Wal-mart (emergency generators I assume cause, you know, the spending must NOT stop) with your other 300,000 non-enlightened neighbors. At this point your blood starts leaving your extremities and concentrating on your vital organs (hence, the time gaps) and you just operate on instinct and autopilot 'til your rescuers come...in our case, they came in giant white trucks from Ohio, and Pennsylvania, and Georgia, and Iowa, and...! Angels suspended in the sky in buckets...ahhh, cue the celestial music here please.

Clearing a path down the street for the 4th time in a few hours.

View from the porch.

What began on the 9th as a "Great Adventure" became the "Great Dilemma" by the 12th and finally, Oklahoma's 11 "National Disaster" this year.

At this point, YIKES! is all we kept saying to each other. We were standing in the middle of the street b/c things were literally falling from the sky. We would hear a very loud CRACK then helplessly watch huge limbs or whole trees crash onto roofs and cars. What a horrible feeling watching the destruction happen before our eyes.

Looking from the corner towards our house.

Today is the 20th and this morning I did a little "We got phone/cable/Internet" jig in the kitchen with the BDP. Which by the way, is the only member of the fam who is not thrilled to return to real life. He relished the constant closeness keeping warm and safe entailed.

I am going to take pictures later today of what it looks like outside now so you can see the comparison. I'll post them and the pix of why I had Lectricity Guilt tomorrow (time allowing).

Post Script: Forgive me the weird text squeezed on the sides of pix. Looks fine on the template, then funky published. It's the first mistake I've ever made...really...no really.

"Give me back my puke!"

As a momma you know we hear all kinds of crazy things. "Where do worms live in the winter? Weren't you born by then (1884)? What's an ash-hole? (She was talking about a volcano lesson...!) and my most recent fave, If you're fat do you bounce better?" But this, this I was not in the least prepared to hear from the other room. I mean, come on, who wants their puke back? "Well, a VERY agitated nine year old who spends a fair amount of time contemplating the body's functions and wonders. I have been told over and over this is normal...? Anyway, he was very annoyed because the BDP(Brain Dead Pug) had ruined his prank and was now running amuck with the evidence. The same evidence I've fallen for at least once a week for the past three years. Yes. That'd be the one. Puke gag #152. It's success fell through this week. It didn't fetch screams and shrieks (from me) and in turn gales of belly-shakin' laughter from the Crumb Snatchers. Dadgumit BDP. Why, oh why'd you have to go and ruin all their fun...? (said with as much sincerity as I can muster...muster? does anyone still say that?)

Maybe if I hold you and you hold him...he might let go of the puke.

"gggiivvve me baaacck my pppuuuuke..."

NOPE!

Finally! ...and intact none the less!

I can't decide if it would have been any more or less traumatic for any of us if it had been the fake poo?

Big Shooter isn't half the man he was...

When was the last time you had one of those head-whipped-back-to-take-a-second-look-can't-believe-your-eyes moments?

Mine was yesterday.

Here's why...




A year later...

Shaaazzzaamm!





Have we told you lately Big Shooter how proud we are of you?
How you make me all tingly?
How grateful we are you cared enough to ensure you'd be around a few extra years for us?
How you make my insides tingle with glee?
How much we love you?
How tingly I'm feeling just gazing at your photo?
You are our rock.
You know why I call you BIG Shooter, right?

Post Script:
Crumb Snatcher #2 thinks she knows why. "It's because he's sooo good at Lazer Quest, right Momma?" "Hmmm....well...kinda Sweetie...it does have something to do with a Quest... a conquest." "A what?" "...umm, did I say that? Never mind honey. Run along and play."
Yikes, that was ackward.

Changing of the Guard:Man Crosses the Chain

In light of yesterday's post, I thought a video would be interesting. After watching the solemn changing of the guard the crumb snatchers either wanted to be in the Army or go to D.C. to visit the tomb in person. That was before watching this video. They are convinced the guy was going to get shot on the spot. Course, I was too... They mean business. My Granny Grunt would call it a "good dressin' down".

Home + School = Homeschool?

Ever say something you didn't mean in the slightest? Didn't believe it for even a second and then it really happened? That was me and homeschooling. I remember the day I casually informed a fellow public school teacher that if I ever had kids, I'd homeschool them before I let them go to public school. Two very important facts about me back then, 1) I didn't plan on ever havin' crumb snatchers of my own - ever. And 2) I would never, ever in a kajillion years want to be around them all day, all night, 24/7 if I did accidentally have any.

... and then it happened. Both things. Had a couple crumb snatchers and I homeschool. (Home educate for all you homeschool purist terminology snobs.) Guess what?

First Ever Public Fess: I ab-so-freakin'-lute-ly love it! Homeschooling - that is. Well, I kinda like the kids too. I guess it'd be a little weird without them bitin' my ankles all the live long day.

Here's a perfect example of WHY. We stayed up late watchin' some sappy holiday special that... yyeeees (said in a sarcastic sing songy voice), made me cry. And because Big Shooter's offspring are always on the look-out for a new and improved way to not get directly in bed, they wanted to lament the whole plot backwards and forwards. Now if they went somewhere besides our kitchen to school 1) they would have been in bed long before the thing even started and 2) I wouldn't get to hear the importance of magical reindeer poop healing the poor little orphan girl who because now she's whole again gets to go live with the happily ever-after perfect family from my 7 year old. Okay. So that wasn't the plot but it might as well have been. All the stories are the same. Little kids learn from others' misfortunes and Santa saves the day.

Anyway, since they were up later than normal - they got to sleep in a little longer than normal. Then right in the middle of a stimulating math lesson on fractions, Crumb Snatcher #2 wanted to know why "the men in the marines click their heels like leprechauns..." well, of course I had to go with that one. And what better tool for this little lesson than (oh, all you homeschool naysayers get ready for this one) - YOUTUBE! After a quick search I found a great video of the changing of the guard at Arlington. And Viola! She now knew it wasn't the marines, but the army who clicked their heels and (dadgum!) they didn't do it like leprechauns either. It led to a conversation about the sacrifices our soldiers make for us daily, it instilled patriotism even deeper into two little tender hearts, and it held their attention much longer than I could ever dream.

Later in the afternoon, they called me to their room to show me their "abstract" (a recent lesson in Fine Arts).

This is the fruit of my labor?

I would now like to take the opportunity and publicly thank ABC, YouTube, and Hoover for contributing to our children's Home Education. Ain't they winners?

The Brain-Dead Pug a.k.a. BDP

"Well, how brain-dead do you mean?" That is the question we get all the time. So I ask you, "Are there degrees of brain-dead?" I guess if you think about it there is "kinda", "kinda-sorta" (with a shrug), "yep, brain-dead" (with a solid nod), "uuuhh, yeahhh...like so brain-dead" (with a teeny-bopper roll of the eyes) and "ab-so-freakin'-lutely!" (with manic head bobbing).

So how brain-dead? Um, I'd give it the "Yep. Brain-dead." if I had to pick one.

We get a couple kinds of responses. They either laugh out right or they smile an almost knowing little grin... or we get the dog lovers response: "What?! How, how...how could you say that about him? He's part of your family!" Our response: "Yep. He sure is. And we love him just the way he is... (say it with me) Brain-dead." (As a side-note, there is something extremely freeing about being able to say the words, "He's brain-dead.") Now please don't get me wrong. We are dog lovers. We just aren't (shall we actually say the word - why of course this is shootin' it to ya straight)... zealot dog lovers. We draw the line with the BDP. We'd let him drink from the royal porcelain vessel if he could reach it okay. But since he's too short I'd be afraid he could drown if he fell in cause he's...brain-dead. He gets good, hearty non-ground up mystery substance dog food because we really do want him to be with us as long as possible, but we don't special order his food from India because they don't butcher animals so there's no possibilities it will have some trace amount of some radical ingredient in it like cow hide or pig snout or chicken feathers. He has to stay home in his crate when we are running human errands. Some times it is a rather long time. We read some where dogs long ago felt safe in their natural habitats of caves and dens, so we figure BDP is working up his tolerance in case one day he mysteriously finds himself feral and in search of a nice warm cave(ish) dwelling place. We leave the tv on for him so he won't be "lonely". We have wrestled with the fact we can't afford Doggie Daycare so he gets left unsupervised, but we have made the Tough Love choice to use those monies to feed our human crumb snatchers instead. All these choices and decisions have weighed heavily on our hearts and minds because of course as any parent of a child with any sort of vegetative mental state will tell you it's tough caring for a family member who at times seems... well, brain-dead.

Look at that face! How could we have known? This was before the symptoms were undeniable.

...and we were thinking, "ooooh, how cute he's smiling."

Little did we know the harsh reality was just around the bend.




Our beloved family member, Olliver the Brain Dead Pug

The Biggest Sinner of All

I come from a long line of story tellers. Both factual and not so factual. Many times when we get together it is filled with pop-shootin'-out-your-nose kinda sinful fun. If we're havin an "on" day, we can turn any ole story into a rip snorter. If we're havin an "off" day...fer git it! Trust me when I say you'd rather pluck that nasty hair that shows up between your bellybutton and hiney-hoo after having crumb snatchers than listen to us blabber about anything.

Since I've dedicated this blog to the art of Straight Shootin' I have a little fessing up to do.

My first ever Public Fess: After I hear a certain story and I realize I myself have a similar story that I can share with some basic story-telling-drama/embellishment and it will be a better one, well that just tickles my insides. (I suspect it has to do with that whole only child, spent a wholelotta time by myself, being-my-own-best-friend, the center of my own attention, therefore, the world revolves around me thing.) Isn't that just kinda strange? Wacked? A tad on the ego-centric side? Who in their right mind gets a thrill out of something so...so...SO childish?

Me apparently.

It's just dumb.

I'm a sinner.

Pray for me please.

The following is an example of my sin. All because my friend told me a sweet story about her loving grandaddy.

This is my Grandfather...

and he's The Biggest Sinner of All.

My poor cancer-surviving, chemotherapy-enjoying aunt is missing her wig about now...

...and then comes the willing addition of Slut Red lipstick...

Grrrr....rrrr?




" OOoooopps...

Pardon me, could you please wipe those off and hand 'em back to me?

So sorry... I didn't intend for that splash of old man saliva to land right there..."

"Why yes, I am related to Popeye... is he a sinner too?"