Godiva Chocolate give-away...thanks to Saucy Sashi.

Here's the deal.
It was my Other Spouse's birthday.
Happy birthday Saucy Sashi.

I was going to go kidnap/wake her up at the butt-crack of dawn and take her to IHOP to have breakfast with a whole slue of her friends this Saturday.

She ruined that idea.

Cause apparently she needs to go celebrate her marriage to Taco Bandito Out-of-Town-by-Themselves.

Love Fest.

Gag-a-Ramma.

I only say that cause I'm so unbelievably jealous. The only time we've gone Out-of-Town-by-Ourselves-without-Crumb Snatchers, Big Shooter threw up the entire time. The. entire. time. It was a real Love Fest. A real Gag-a-Ramma too.
(Here's another famous time he said, "I think I'm gonna get sick.")

Anyway, after much fly by the seat of your pants, decision making we all threw together a quick Birthday Dinner out for her. I figured we'd go to some nicer restaurant down by the river. (Plainsville's version of San Antonio's Riverwalk) But when I called Taco to ask if he'd be available and willing to do solo kid care, I figured I'd better ask his opinion just to make sure...

Now, trying to pull one over on Sashi is like trying to give a cat a bath. So I finally just said, "BTW, Girl Child and I are coming to get you for dinner tomorrow. Taco said he'd be available for kiddos and he said Yocal-Local Mexican restaurant is your fave place. We'll be there at 6:30." She was a little caught off guard and didn't say anything more about it. Until the next morning...

When she called and casually asked if we could change locations because Taco wasn't thinking clearly when he told me Yocal-Local Mexican.... "Ummm, of course. It's your birthday. We'll go where ever you want." I was so proud. I held my self together long enough to make several phone calls that divvied up the list of people to be called since we'd be meeting in less then 8hrs.

During those few hours, she:

* informed me "to be flexible" b/c she'd spoke with Taco Bandito and "wasn't sure when or if he'd be home in time tonight. We may have to change plans." (We already did that unbeknownst to her. Thankyouverymuch.)

* decided to go shopping at Wally World for groceries 45 minutes before she needed to leave her house to meet me. 45 minutes. Wally World. 3 boys in tow. (Whuuuhh? Like your boys need to eat?! Did I mention she chose to shop at Wally World - 45 minutes before she had to leave. Just makin' sure.)

* on the way home from Wally World she called to suggest 7pm instead of 6:30. (????? I came up with the fastest lie I could. I blamed it on Big Shooter. I had to be home. Big Shooter. All his fault. She fell for it.)

When we had all arrived and got to laugh at the wrinkles, gray hair and heart palpitations she'd caused me, we landed on this fact.

Taco's been married to my Other Spouse for many, many years...and he didn't know where her fave restaurant with the girls would be. Now, to his credit, his excuse was I caught him off guard, in a crunch, unawares... so to speak.

Made me wonder. What would Big Shooter say? Did he know my fave restaurant? I mean yes, he knows the faves with the fam. The ones with him. But, what would he say if Sashi had called him for his opinion with the girls?

I asked.

He failed. Mostly.

He named several I love. A couple I don't. One I really don't. Then reminded himself it was with the girls. Let it swirl around in there a while longer...and then for his final answer threw out two I wouldn't dream of going to with the girls. If it were my choice.

I totally feel for ya Sashi. I get it girl.

21 years. Years.

Do me a favor y'all. Think up what you'd say for your lover-boy's faves and ask him what he'd say for yous.

Then, let me know.
I'm giving away some fancy chocolate to someone for their honest answer. Well, I'm giving it. I'm making Sashi choose who upon her return. I figure I'll spring that on her after Love Fest cause hopefully she'll still be all starry eyed and swooning and won't remember anything. On the other hand, I've never seen Sashi starry eyed and swooning over anything.
Anyway, you have til Sunday evening to leave a comment.
Mmmmm...choc-o-late...




Love Note to my Big Shooter: I highly doubt I'd do any better with yours. How can that be after all. these. live. long. years... and years and YEARS? Maybe we need to get to know each other a little better. Hubba, hubba.

Epiphanies, head gear and lubricant...

When was the last time you had an epiphany? An honest to goodness epiphany about something...or someone?

I had one recently about my Soul Sister.

And it was a doozy.
For me.

The epiphany came recently when I stayed with her at her parents house.

They have what is referred to as the Stuff Wall.

The Stuff Wall is a random collection of items her family has gathered over the years.

Let me show you a few items of interest on the wall.

In case you can't tell what type of hat this is, let me clarify it for you.

It is a solar operated fan hat for those hot southern summer days.

This turtle shell is from the turtle her mom decided on a whim to make into an entree of Turtle Soup. She found the recipe in "an old cookbook that also told how to make squirrel stew, and possum pie". I kid you not.

She told me it "was extremely difficult to remove the turtle to get to the meat. Heather's Dad finally had to use a hammer and other various tools".

Here's the kicker: My dear Soul Sister had proudly brought a group of new girlfriends home from college to have a nice relaxing weekend. (Her parents house is very large. Very large. And very beautiful.) And you guessed it...they were unknowingly served the said soup.

I'll spare you the details.

This is my very favorite section of the wall because it had a ton of childhood items that belonged to my Soul Sister.

Along with those sweet, red patent leather Mary Janes and little, white church gloves is her metal head gear from her braces years and a pair of dirty gym socks...

Here's where the epiphany took place.

It was here, while exploring this section of the Wall, I realized no matter how close you are to some one, no matter how alike you are, no matter you'd give them a kidney if they needed one...there are some things better left unsaid and unknown.

Like what kind of rubber glove is that? And why, on all things holy, is it on the Stuff Wall?

Olympic Lesson of the Day

Y'all remember this courageous young man? He and his brother learned how to do gymnastics in their family's barn loft in Wisconsin. He fought through a very painful injury with nerves of steel to help the U.S. clench the gold in Athens?

The Shooter family can't agree on our one most fave sport in the Games. We love swimming. We love the skeet shooting. We love rowing. We love track. And we love men's gymnastics. Especially ones this young man excelled at. Boy Child (who was almost 6 then) remembers him vividly from Athens. And couldn't "wait to see what he's gonna do for the United States this time".

Today they learned their first lesson from these Games.

Paul Hamm stepped down from his spot.

You see he has an injury that he feels may not heal enough for him to perform at his very best. And since "giving your very best is what the Olympic spirit means. It's what the Olympic oath says...", he just can't in "good conscience continue to hold a spot on the team."

The disappointment in the Shooter house was harsh.

But the lesson was unbelievably clear.

In what had to be young Mr. Hamm's most difficult, disappointing moment, he showed honor, pride, unselfishness, and unbelievable character.

Now how often will I get the chance to teach on a powerful life lesson like that?

We, in the Shooter household, are thinking of you tonight Mr. Hamm. You are a true gentleman.

Love Note to my Big Shooter: Thank you for showing the same gentlemanly character young Mr. Hamm showed today, everyday. We don't acknowledge it enough or say thank you enough for that. So, Thank You.

The Town Crier apologizes publicly

Without divulging too much in order to avoid future therapeutic intervention for Crumb Snatcher #1 all I can say is..."Big Shooter, I am so sorry for always pokin' fun when it comes to you and Girl Child growing up." Truly, I am.
I had a moment with our son this morning. One I'd rather forget. Ignore. Deny. Am. not. ready. for...
His words did two things to me.
Cracked me up. I mean, cracked me up y'all.
And...made me want to throw up.
The first because they were so innocently and seriously asked. (No, even I the repeat winner of the Non-Mother of the Year award will not share. They had to do with puberty and growing up to be just like Daddy.)
My second reaction was caused by the hard, swift blow I felt in my Momma Gut when I had the instant realization he wants these things to happen. He wants to grow up and be a Man-Child.
I am not ready for him to grow-up. I don't think I can handle it. I don't want to handle it yet.
I think that is why God gives us so much time to raise them. If it went any faster, all the looney-bins would be filled to capacity with all us Mommas-in-Denial.
I find comfort in this fact though, today I don't want him to age another nano-second.
Tomorrow, well tomorrow I'll probably be calling Social Services to come give me a break already.

Meet Our Olympians

Meet the "Perfect Mismatch" who will be some serious competion for the gold in a few short weeks.

Jake Gibbs (the one digging the ball) was raised as the youngest of 11 by a very family oriented, faithful, encouraging set of parents in Utah. He served on a mission after high school, graduated from college, and married the love of his life. Then he found beach volleyball and took the sport by storm.

Sean Rosenthal was the second oldest of 7. Didn't know his father. His mom was a drug addict. He quit school by 14 to work for the family. And made his professional debut into beach volleyball at 16.

In an odd twist in the sport, the rebel and the stable playes were paired together.

And together, they have swept the sport.

When the play, they are either hot. Or cold.

I can't wait to see which they are in The Games.

Love Note to my Big Shooter: Sweetie, I am truly sorry for making so much fun of you when it comes to your Girl growin'-up. I get it now. Can't promise I'll never do it again. But, I get it.

I have appointed myself!

I can remember squatting in front of my grandparents black and white TV as a very young child watching track and field beside my gramps and hearing my grandma and mom cheering on the athletes behind us. I vividly remember how proud my family members were when our fellow Americans shined with their efforts and proudly waved from the coveted podium. And I remember watching with awe my strong, invincible grandfather with tears running down his cheeks as he witnessed a stranger from another land far, far away show an indomitable spirit or display exemplary sportsmanship.

The Olympics hold sacred memories for me because I associate them with wonderful childhood memories, my insufferable patriotism, hope for the under-dog, the peace I feel in my spirit for a couple of very short weeks.

I look forward to them more than holidays and birthdays.

Many people think it is a waste of time.

Maybe I am naive. Maybe I still believe in fairy tales. Maybe I just need more out of life.

What ever it is, I want to pass it on to our two precious Crumb Snatchers.

• I want them to believe the world can come together in peace. If only for two weeks.
  
• I want them to believe hard work, determination and practice pays for itself in the end.
  
• I want them to grasp the insurmountable odds people face...and over come.
  
• I want them to witness true sportsmanship.
  
• I want them to watch, with the world, as nations reach across tracks, pools, fields, and gyms to offer a helping hand.


• I want them to see first hand the hard endings, the unbearable disappointments. So they can learn empathy.
  
• I want them to cheer so loud and long for someone they don't know that their throats hurt the next day.
  
• I want them to see tears of happiness, regret, joy and pain.
  
• I want them to experience astonishment.
  
• I want them to know what it means to hear their anthem played.
  
• I want them to want to stand to their feet and proudly sing The Star Spangled Banner.
• I want them to dream. And dream big.

So I have appointed myself their Official Olympic Guide.

And yours too. If you'll have me. (Read - stick with me for the next month or so.)

Maybe our enthusiasm will rub off.

Maybe you'll find yourself wanting to see the twin brothers from Massachusetts fight for the gold. Maybe it will change your opinion of their performance to find out the original pair that actually won the hard-fought-for spot on the '08 Team accepted it and then immediately stepped down and offered it to the Mass. twins because they believe the twins will represent the U.S. better? Can you imagine the pressure those two now bear?

How about the fact one of the world's best marksman who will compete in these games is not a marksman, but markswoman. From a Middle Eastern, predominantly Muslim country. I wonder, what kind of influence that can have on Girl Child who has already asked for "a pink camo compound bow" for Christmas this year?

I plan on sharing daily Olympic Facts leading up to the Games. Then will switch to Highlights after they begin. I sincerely hope you stick with me. I'll be oh so lonely if the two or three of you leave to find greener pastures while I go through my red, white and blue phase.

Love Note to my Big Shooter: I may scare 'em all off Love. It may just be me, you, and a dog named Blue. Or is it #1 and #2?

The Official Countdown...

has begun in the Shooter home.

I looked it up:

fa·nat·ic [fuh-nat-ik]
–noun 1. a person with an extreme and uncritical enthusiasm or zeal

That certainly hits the nail on the head when it comes to describing us and the Olympics. Ask around. See what you come up with. We get called all kinds of things during the upcoming two week period.

Here are a few other synonyms that seem to fit the bill as well. There's a wee possibility they may be even more fitting than the first definition.

—Synonyms 1. enthusiast, zealot, bigot, hothead, militant. Fanatic, zealot, militant, devotee refer to persons showing more than ordinary support for, adherence to, or interest in a cause, point of view, or activity. Fanatic and zealot both suggest excessive or overweening devotion to a cause or belief. Fanatic further implies unbalanced or obsessive behavior: a wild-eyed fanatic. Zealot, only slightly less unfavorable in implication than fanatic, implies single-minded partisanship: a tireless zealot for tax reform.

I just thought I better get it out there. Before the hoopla begins.
It's a sickness.
I'm serious.
I have to go now. Our little fam's going to have our initial meeting this morning to settle on our agenda. Schedules, menus, what events are highest priority to watch live, how late can the Crumbs stay up to watch, etc.

I told you it was a sickness.

I hate arrogance. Hate it.

Been having to spend a whole lot of time with a very arrogant "former professor" turned homeschool mom the past few days.
I try to remind myself when someone is judgemental, arrogant, bossy or condesending there's a reason behind their behavior. I try to remind myself they may be feeling insecure, manipulated or judged themselves. I try to have patience, forgiveness and thick skin.
But after the third day? Counting to ten, smiling through gritted teeth, biting my tongue and going to my happy place is not working...

my happy place is starting to look more and more like a cat fight.

T.G.I.F.

Love Note to my Big Shooter: 21 years and a I learned something NEW. Wow. I have not laughed that hard or long in a very long time. My tummy hurts today from laughing and my eyes are still burning from the mascara getting in them.

A horn is NOT for honkin'

I am so confused.
I was taught a car horn was an attention getter.
According to Big Shooter, my Driver's Ed instructor failed me.
Completely.
Apparently I missed the whole lesson on A horn is NOT for honkin'.

I have heard these kinds of statements for over 20 years now:
"A horn is not a play thing."
"It should only be used in extreme emergencies."
"If you touch my horn again...I'll chop your arm off..."

I have listened respectfully and abide by his wishes.
Kind of.
I have occasionally beeped the horn when he's walking in front of the vehicle.
If he is oogling when he thinks I'm not paying attention I've been known to reach over and give the honk a little pressure...then wave.
I honk when I drive away from home just to let him know I'm thinkin' of him.
Things of that nature.

He freaks. I giggle.

But here's where the confusion comes in.

When we see a JUST MARRIED message painted on a car, everyone knows the universal good wish is - honk to wish them good fortune. Will he? No.
When we pass the dude dressed up in a cow costume outside Chic Fil A, in 102 degree weather, holding a sign that says, "HONK, if you love chicken." Does he? No way!
When his face is purple and veins are bulging from the moron driving in front of us does he? No.

But when we see the resident loony dude dressed in his filthy felt Santa suit, perpetually riding his bike around town holding his latest sign, "Honk for Obama", does he? Yes.
Yes?! We have a McCain sign in our yard...
When I look over at him in shock and raise my eyebrows in question he shrugs and says with his crooked grin, "You'd think someone riding a bike wouldn't want to be honked at...".
He's correct of course.

At least he didn't oblige the loony dude's last sign.
Fart 4 free gas.

Love Note to my Big Shooter: Honk. beep. beep. Honk! HONNNNNNK!!!!

Warning Girls: Ewwww...ewwww!

I am not kidding around when I say, "Ewwww..." and then "Double Ewwww!" This post is gonna solidify the term Buy American in your mind for-evah! Guaranteed.













What is it you ask?
Condoms.
Yes, I said con-doms.
Some are new and some are thought to be...ahem...recycled.
No. I am not kiddin' around.
I checked.
snopes.com: Condom Hair Bands
It's true.
Be careful out there Girls. It really is a dangerous world.
Who in their right mind thought we could ever catch a STD from fixing our hair.
Next time Big Shooter says he's going to tell Girl Child she can get prego holding hands...well, maybe I won't scoff...quite so loudly. By that time, who knows what they'll be using to make a girl's necessities.
Now, go have a nice day knowin' I have your back.

Love Note to my Big Shooter: I am so grossed out right now I can't think of anything to say. All that keeps going through my mind is, "I am sooo glad Girl and I have short hair..." Oh yeah, and you (like always) were a fine example again today. Love you big guy.

Be back shortly.

The Love of my Life is having a small surgery today.
* Nothing serious.
* We are hoping to get to the bottom of the nausea & upchucking business.
* I'll get back to y'all ASAP.
* Sorry we didn't share earlier. Since it's not a big deal, we weren't going to mention it...that was before I didn't have a thing for a post.

Now I do. Now you know.

And Big Shooter is not going to be a Happy Camper about it.

Shhhhh...

Love Note to my Big Shooter: ...(big breath)...(big sigh)...Does it ever get old being told over and over how you amaze me with your attitude? One more time Babycakes, you amaze me. Now, let's go get your gullet and guts checked out.

We are back home. BS is under strict begging/pleading (from me) to take it easy, rest, relax, veg for the rest of the day. He says he doesn't need to. He feels fine and needs to clean the AC coils, spray weeds and finish the engine cover for his boat...

I've really been pondering what Teddy said...

"In the first place, we should insist that if the immigrant who comes here in good faith becomes an American and assimilates himself to us, he shall be treated on an exact equality with everyone else, for it is an outrage to discriminate against any such man because of creed, or birthplace, or origin. But this is predicated upon the person's becoming in every facet an American, and nothing but an American...There can be no divided allegiance here. Any man who says he is an American, but something else also, isn't an American at all. We have room for but one flag, the American flag... We have room for but one language here, and that is the English language... and we have room for but one sole loyalty and that is a loyalty to the American people."

~ Theodore Roosevelt 1907 ~

I look at this picture and I wonder about my own ancestry. Any one of these people could be my relatives from across the pond.

Were they proud of their heritage? Unbelievably so.

Did they come to this country to find a better future for their families? Absolutely.

Did they accomplish their goals? Amazingly so.

Did they forget their proud heritages? Absolutely not.

Did hundreds of heritages melt together to become One Nation? Undeniably so.

What's changed? Why can't we continue down that path? Did it suddenly stop working? Is it not what makes America, America?

I was taught what made America so great a nation was the fact, that in essence, it was formed from all the greatest nations in the world that became one - united together.

I have been reading through and studying all the history material for the upcoming school year. It has really had me thinking about our nation.

Where we came from.

Where we are now.

Where we're going.

Where are we going?

That's the question that keeps swirling around in my head.

What do you think?

Love Note to my Big Shooter: Thank you for suggesting, encouraging, and supporting Sovereignty School (That's what we call our homeschool.) And most of all, for lifting me up when I am down for the count - those times lesson plans, laundry, cleaning, JBF, appointments and life start to blur and I need lifted out of the chaos. You timing is always impeccable. Thanks.

life in 6 words

Some time ago one of my bloggy friends did a post on their lives described in 6 words. It was probably Queen B, cause she's stinkin' hilarious. Or maybe it was Soliloquy cause she's so stinkin' hilarious. Or maybe it was Jenni, cause you guessed it - she's so stinkin' hilarious!

I don't remember where I read it.

Sheesh, I don't remember what day it is half the time!

Does anyone else have this problem?

Sorry, back to the point...what was it?

Oh yes. Describing our lives in 6 words.

Like I said, who ever it was, was stinkin' hilarious. I, on the other hand, am just looking for a quick post so I can say I did one today.

So folks, here is my life at the moment in 6 word phrases.

Big Shooter is cancer free - free!
Busy beyond any made-up nonsense words.
Loving every day with Big Shooter.
Our socks have been blessed off.
Every day is living a miracle.
Crumb Snatchers drive me bonkers daily.
I love them more than life.
JBF is consuming my cramped brain.
Loving the care-free summer fun.
Library books seem to breed overnight.
How much water could flowers need?
Simple meals - leftovers, sandwiches, fruit, pancakes.
Is chlorine green hair always reversible?
Nothing lives up to overnight camp!
Scary ice cream drivers in my neighborhood.
Swimming with friends when ever possible.
Need to buy new swimming suit.
Hate shopping for new swimming suit.
Where to buy whale size suit?
Will put off buying suit...indefinitely.
Giant salads with gorgeous, fresh colors.
Planning next year's homeschool lesson plans.
Pulling out hair over lesson plans.
Can't wait for next year's lessons!
Writing posts constantly in my head.
Convincing family posts should be shared.
Attempting to count my infinite blessings.
Loving my exact place in life.
Going crazy thinking in six words.
Gotta go get some things done.
Must. push. away. from. computer. now...


Love Note to my Big Shooter:
Can't wait to see your smile.
You are my most favorite thing.
Reminder- it is Friday-hubba, hubba.
I am counting the minutes down.
You make ordinary days, not ordinary.
You will forever by my hero.
I am nauseous from this sappiness.

Sorry. It's that time again.

As Girl Child says, "You guys are JBF Nuts again." And as Sashi puts it, "We're back to JBF'n it Sister Sue!"
Our Fall Sale is 8 weeks away from today. So, like today, there will be hit-n-miss days of absenteeism due to being a JBF Nut.
For those of you who will ask, "What is JBF?"
Here's a short video.
Here's a link.
And here's our site.

Love Note to my Big Shooter: Thank the Lord above your not a nut cracker or I'd be in trouble.

The Pout for Wordless Wednesday

Mommas, what do YOU do with freedom?

Apparently, Soul Sister and I have lost the hip, young, livin' on the edginess we used to exude because we didn't quite know what to do with our bad selves last night. I like to consider myself a true Fly-by-the-seat-of -my-jeans-kinda girl. I can store the 3/4 cooked meal I've been slaving over in 30 seconds flat if offered a dinner out. I can dig to the bottom of my bottomless purse to scrounge enough $$ for an I-gotta-have-it-or-I'll-be-the-scourge-of-the-neighborhood-if-you-dream-of-sayin'-no-ice cream-treat from the scary, is he a pedophile or just a desperate for a job freak slowing down to 40 mph in the van that is well past it's glory days before he rounds the corner. And I can switch roles of momma, wife and diva at the drop of a stinky sock.

Now even though I like to fantasize about my abilities and skills. Sometimes, reality hits me up side the big melon. That point was driven home last night.

You see, the Shooter fam had some hair-pin turns kinda changes to their plans this weekend and I ended up havin' a good ole fashion slumber party with Soul Sister. For three nights. With the added bonus of NO CRUMBS or HUSBANDS on one of them. We began the evening all giddy and gussied up to enjoy our newly found and very unexpected freedom only to realize our gumption had already up and went...without us.

Our plans of bar room line dancin', heavy drinkin' (which should have concluded with permanent Tramp Stamps a.k.a. tattoos) and jello wrestling actually turned into a much recommended Chick Flick starring Ashton Kutcher (now there's fine specimen of a young buck for ya) called What happens in Vegas (Which, by the way, was suppose to be our title for the rip roarin' evening we had fantasized about. - What happens in Plainsville, Stays in Plainsville Livin' in a town named Plainsville probably should have been the first clue?) and ending in a Girly-Bonding Chat at Starbucks.

And guess what my biggest disappointment of the evening was?

That it had to end.

I love my girlfriends.

I love the fact we were once the fair maidens. Now we are the matrons giving advice to our fair maidens. And one day, we will be the old crones squawking advice to anything that moves.

I've gained more wrinkles, my memory seems to have flown away with the clouds and certain body parts have given into gravity (really given in to gravity) - but my girlfriends still remain the same.

Strong, true, loyal and supportive.

Thank you girls. I love you.

Note to Soul Sister: I'm still contemplating what design I want for my permanent body marking. But don't get your hopes up, I think by the time I make up my mind I won't need courage, I'll need my daily dose of Ensure spiked with Geritol.

Love Note to my Big Shooter: When I'm a bossy old crone, what will you be? My croney? And don't think I don't know you just thought, "What do you mean when?!"

Gone Fishin' til further notice...

Love Note to my Big Shooter:

Love,

I took the Crumbs and went here again. Be back with extra guest (your very fave - my Soul Sister) in a day or two. Love you. Please take extra good care of my sweet, sweet BDP. He'll be lost without us.

XOXOX,

Straight Shooter

Family Hoorah Ends

Got wet quite often while my Dad and his wife GrannyM visited.

Swimming, rain, more swimming, and more rain...

Meet Shark Boy a.k.a. Crumb Snatcher #1 or Boy Child.

Meet Dad a.k.a. Boss, Joe from Joe's Mule Barn, and Sir.

Meet GrannyM.

Now you see her...

...now you don't!

Meet Miss Rump Roast. This is usually all I see while she is in the pool. The Girl Child is a fish, I tell ya!

Our visitors Flew the Coop early yesterday mornin'.

By early I don't mean Crack of Dawn early.

I mean Butt Crack of Dawn early.

Grand Fun was had by all.

They are missed.

Love Note to my Big Shooter: Again, just Thank You. You are my glue, my rock, my Prince Charming, my whipping boy. My whipping boy??? RRrrrr...I like the sound of that one!

Hands Down

Soliloquy has the best embarrassing moment I have ever read. I am thrilled she commented b/c since she has the most humorous moment - she wins the Friday's card.

I hope she can use it to ease her aching conscious at the bar very soon.

Thanks for the honest, raw, unadulterated humor Soliloquy!

I failed to mention

my father and his wife, Granny M are visiting from Connecticut this week.
We have been swimming, visiting the Southern United States equivalent of Mecca (Bass Pro Shop), eating fabulous food, drinking outstanding wine, and painting ceramics.
Tomorrow is another fan-tab-u-lous day packed with fun. In light of this, I need to get some much needed sleep (It has nothing to do with the fact I found an outstanding wine and drank the bottle myself. Nothing to do with it. Not a drop. Or glass. Or several. Noth-ing.) Where was I? Oh, sleep. Yes, blessed sleep. Fluffy feather mattress cover-upper thingy. Ahhhh.
In order to allow myself to fall asleep tonight knowing I didn't write a real post for you...I'm sending you here. I promise you this - if you can come up with a more embarrassing moment I will send you a Fridays gift card to celebrate today!!! I will! I really will. I have one in my hot little hand right now just itchin' to be given away!
It involves whoo-ha-ha (that's my family friendly blog way of saying s-e-x), a remote cabin, relatives, and did I mention whoo-ha-ha? It is so stinkin' hilarious I had to call Big Shooter at work to read it to him. Then I called my mom and read it to her. They both called someone else to read it to them. Warning: don't have anything in your mouth (liquid or solid), go pee before reading, do not read in a public place where laughing out loud will be looked down upon, be prepared to blush then guffaw out loud - LOUDLY.
Go. Now. Visit Soliloquy. She'll have you in stitches. In a good way.

P.S. Seriously y'all, if you can beat Soliloquy's story and are brave enough to share a snippet with us in a comment, I'll send you this here little card and you can go sit at the bar at Friday's and bury your memories in a nice fog.

Love Note to my Big Shooter: I think it's a good thing I won't remember much of tonight, tomorrow. Love you.

He's in denial. With a capitol D.

Ya'll I need to go to bed but I have to poke fun, I mean, ask for advice.

Big Shooter is in some serious denial about his girl.

Here's our recent phone call.

B.S.: Big Shooter here.
Me: Hi Darlin'. (a few moments of tradin' small talk, then) Just so you know, I'll be havin' a Girl Talk with #2 very soon."

Complete Silence.
Then lots of noise that sounds suspiciously like the receiver being rubbed on paper/chair cushion/what ever was handy.

Me: Sweetie? (more suspicious rustling) Did you hear me?

Long pause.

B.S.: I...don't...I...no. I don't need to know any more.
Me: I know Darlin', but it's...
B.S.: lalalalalalalalalalal (he more than likely had at least one ear plugged with his finger while doing this)
Me: got to happen soon. She's starting to grow...
B.S.: (VERY loud now) LaLaLaLaLaLaLaLaLa
Me: ...and she's going to need a little sports br...

Pretty loud thunk.

?????

Did he drop the phone? Fall out of his chair?

Me: Love? You okay?
B.S.: No more. 'kay?
Me: (giggling) Okay Darlin'.
B.S.: No! I'm serious. I can't. She can't.
Me: (couldn't resist) BraperiodboysdatingPROM!

I heard an audible gasp,
then faint "lalalalalalalalalas"
...then click.

(insert evil chuckle) Oh. Oh, this is gonna be fun.

...that is until Boy Child starts speaking in a squeaky voice, grows hair in unmentionable places, wants his door closed...won't hug me in public... Oh God, No!

LaLaLaLaLaLaLaLaLaLaLa!

Love Note to my Big Shooter: I so look forward to our future years with the Crumb Snatchers. I love to daydream about future situations - driving, dating (meeting Mr. Bail Bondsman for the first time), dropping them off at college (more bail), weddings... Some make me smile and giggle. Some make me laugh out loud. Some make me tear up...then, of course, gag.

Mid-morning Crumb Snatcher Speak

"Mommee, I can't get my earring through my earloaf." ~ Girl Child age 8

This blog is NOT egocentric...it's just all about me. (said with tongue firmly planted in cheek)

I am a dynamic person.
I translate ethnic slurs for Cuban refugees, I write award-winning operas, I manage time efficiently.
Occasionally, I tread water for three days in a row.
I can pilot bicycles up severe inclines with unflagging speed and I cook 30 minute brownies in 20 minutes.
I have become an expert in stucco, a veteran in love and an outlaw in Peru.
I play bluegrass cello, I am the subject of numerous documentaries, and I bat .400.
I enjoy urban hang gliding.
On Wednesdays after I teach school to poor inner city children, I repair electrical appliances free of charge .
I am an abstract artist, a concert analyst and a ruthless bookie.
I am a private citizen, yet I receive fan mail.
I have been caller number nine numerous times and have won the "weekend passes" too many to count.
My deft floral arrangements have earned me fame in international botany circles.
I can hurl tennis rackets at small moving objects with deadly accuracy.
I memorized the exact location of every food item in the supermarket.
I have performed several covert operations for the CIA.
I have also realized the laws of physics do not apply to me.
I breed prizewinning clams.
I have won bullfights in San Juan, cliff diving competitions in Sri Lanka and the spelling bee held at the Kremlin.
Children trust me.
I balance, I weave, I dodge.
I frolic.
All of my bills are paid and I have spoken with Elvis.
But since my blog is not egocentric, I have nothing to blog about today.

Love Note to my Big Shooter: Thanks Love for putting up with all this ego-mania all these live long days...years. Okay, lives. You're a saint.

Editor's Note: I originally plagiarized this for my 10th HS reunion "whatcha been up to all these years" brag book many, many years ago.

Politically incorrect thoughts from a tree hugging gas guzzler

I have a confession. I drive an Excursion. It gets 9 miles to the gallon. The Crown Prince of Saudi Arabia sends me a birthday card every year. Small children in his country sing my praises.
In these times of high gas prices, a tree hugger such as myself should forgo the Land Beast and embrace the forward thinking, environmentally correct, save-the-planet, God bless the Queen, 80 miles to the gallon modernized scooter.
I mean have you seen them lately? They're hip, innovative, sleek, and down right adorable.

Then I realized, the people I've seen riding these scooters make me want to vomit.

Case in point #1:
Just the other day, I saw a piece of scooter trash in his khaki cargo shorts, environmentally green recycled hemp t-shirt, Birkenstock sandals and of course the all-important helmet made of recycled Styrofoam cups sporting his bad ass tattoo.
Not a Don't-want-to-meet-you-in-a-dark-alley Harley bad ass tattoo. But a triple venti, non-fat, half caf, I-just-spent-$18-on-a-foo foo-latte tattoo. It was the size of a postage stamp placed just above his ankle. I think he was still crying from the shame, I mean pain.
As if to justify my lowly judgemental thoughts, Girl Child phoned me from the rear seat of the Excursion (I hate it when they make long distance phone calls without permission) to ask me if I saw the weird man on the little bike with a bug on his ankle down there by our running board?

Case in point #2:
Female moron with cracker jack driver's license trying to prove she was better than me because she was on her gas sipping scoo-ter instead of belly-up to the bar, drink-as-fast-and-hard-as-you-can-then-wake-up-to-coyote-ugly-the-next-morning, gas guzzlin' Land Beast.
She cut she cut me off.
Let me say it again so you get the whole picture.
She. cut. me. off.
Think it through honey. I've had gnats bigger than you on my windshield.

I've decided scooters are the lowest form of vehicular life. They look up to European mopeds. When they weave in and out of traffic they are like an annoying swarm of flies swarming around a big pile of poo.

Help me spread the word. Friends don't let friends drive scooters.

Love Note to my Big Shooter: It's time to fill the Land Beast darlin'. Do you have any extra body parts we can sell? Your diseased kidney only fetched me a 1/4 tank.

They survived without Momma

I couldn't title it "...without us or ...without their parents" b/c out of all four of us I was the only one doing any missin' of any kind.

The verdict of church camp:

They are back.

They didn't miss us.

They can't wait to go back.

Here's a little glimpse of camp.

This is the face she had after divulging the "super, duper, top secret secret". They "raided the kitchen late at night." When I asked her what she ate, she answered, "Everyone had a handful of chips, a glass of punch and a few cookies the cooks left out in case anyone raided the kitchen."

Hmmm...I'd say that camp cook is one smart cookie!

Singing silly camp songs.
Putting on their "homemade skit" for us. It was titled Gravity Hurts. The stars were penguirls - half penguins / half girls...


Apparently some foot sniffin' went on on a regular basis.

The best news came the day before we picked them up. They both had come to a decision about their faith and both wanted to be baptised as an outward symbol of their decision before they left.

All the camp staff gathered for the event and afterwards, all prayed for these two precious souls while the angels sang a song of love for them.

Getting hugs from their individual counselors afterwards.

Getting love and hugs from her other mother - Saucy Sashi.

This picture sums up camp.

Shining eyes.

Constant smile.

Happy heart.

Fun in the sun.

Renewed.

Cleansed...

and Forever memories.

Until next year...

Love Note to my Big Shooter: Thank you. Just thank you.

A Prayer of George Washington

The Shooter fam has been learning quite a bit about the Father of this Great Country. I, personally, have a new hero. What we've learned so far about his character is this, he was not looking for greatness, leadership or fame in any form. Many believe (I included) the God of the faithful few who came to this foreign land knew who they needed to lead them to true freedom. Mr. Washington was given a divine appointment. He did not accept it with joy and excitement, nor with doubt and reluctance. He accepted it with humbleness and great faith.

When the harsh realities and inevitable lows of such a war were realized, he found comfort and solace in whom he frequently referred to as his Divine Author. His troops, in turn, found encouragement and strength in his indomitable spirit.

Because of his great leadership we have a Great Nation that may freely celebrate their independence today.

My sincerest wish this day is He may continue to bless this "one nation under God".

Happy Independence Day fellow Americans!

"Almighty God: We make our earnest prayer that thou wilt keep the United States in thy holy protection; that thou wilt incline the hearts of the citizens to cultivate a spirit of subordination and obedience to government; and entertain a brotherly affection and love for one another and for their fellow citizens of the United States at large. And finally that thou wilt most graciously be pleased to dispose us all to do justice, to love mercy and to demean ourselves with that clarity, humility and pacific temper of mind which were the characteristics of the divine author of our blessed religion, and without a humble imitation of whose example in these things we can never hope to be a happy nation. Grant our supplication, we beseech thee, through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen." ~ General George Washington at Valley Forge

His 62nd Anniversary...of birth

Happy Birthday

to

you,

Happy Birthday



to

you

Happy Birthday

Dear Grandpa.


Happy


Birthday



to

you!

We wish you lots of love today.