2009 Get the Hell Outta Dodge Already!

I was reading a Plainsville newspaper article highlighting the decade's highs and lows a couple days ago.

I realized a few things:

* There are always going to be highs and lows...it matters how you face them.

* Love, family and true friends are truly the only things that matter in life.

* 10 years goes a whole heckuva lot slower when you're younger...

In the past decade, Big Shooter and I have been blessed with:

* Healthy, growing Spawn. (Well, except for the nasty, old man horn that grew out of Boy

Child's ....nose a couple years ago... and the fact that he's allergic to everything not grown in an organic garden and raised on a local farm which of course puts a little damper on my lifestyle.  But hey, it's all in the way we face it right?)

* A marriage thankfully made of Silly Putty.  It has been flatten and stretched by the Wringer of Life and been re-inflated through the Bringer of Life these past years.

* And True Friendships that have kept us buoyed in the past few years of sickness and life altering changes...

 We've most definitely molted many times over and we have become very comfortable in our new skins.

Before I receive a bajillion emails and texts asking if this is really us...have we gone off the deep end?  Let me answer, "Yes, that's really us...at a goth themed wedding reception.  And yes, we've most definitely gone waaay off the deep end...but we're still the same ole, same ole Shooters just the same."

Love Note to Big Shooter: Wow it's been waaay too long since I've sat down and wrote you a stinkin' Love Note!  Let's see...How do I love thee?  Let me count the ways.  And the ways.  And the wa...heh, heh. 

What in the HECK??

If ya'll know what happened here...Puh-Leeze give me the inside scoop!

R.I.P. Straight Shooter

Good Morning World from my hospital bed in Plainsville!

Long time no hear from I know. Here's why:

• Had a hysterectomy. (don't need any more Sweet and Loving Spawn)
• 
  
  Had major bladder repair. (hopefully, no more spontaneous piddling on the floor)
• 
  
  Big Shooter took aforementioned Sweet Spawn to Idaho to hang with their beloved Grammie while I recuperated...
• 
  
  While BS was 5 states away, I threw a couple pulmonary embolisms.
• 
  
  Started to bleed to death.
• 
  
  Crashed.
• 
  
  Went to ICU.
• 
  
  Got stabilized.
• 
  
  Started to bleed to death.
• 
  
  Crashed.
• 
  
  Stopped breathing.
• 
  
  Went to ICU.
• 
  
  Crashed.
• 
  
  Stayed in ICU.
• 
  
  Now stable on blood thinners.
• 
  
  Third week in hospital.

Nothing new and exciting going on here. How about you?

Love Note to my Other Spouse: Saucy Sashi, how to thank you for never letting my hand go during the first scare? Keeping me calm, lifting me up in prayer, being my spouse until BS could return? You literally saved my life. You're a hero.

Love Note to Big Shooter: Where to begin? Thank you for rushing back to be by my side? Thank you for never stop talking so I could hear your voice in those scary, scary times? Thank you for sleeping on a rock hard sofa(ish) for weeks and never uttering a complaint just so your presence can be a comfort to me? Thank you for being a rock? An anchor? My life preserver?

Happy Father's Day Grandpa!

From all your kiddos...




Even the 4-legged ones...

We so hope your day is abundantly filled with love.

Life Lessons...just keep comin'

Remember when I introduced our great neighbor The Recluse Artist? I mentioned then how I wanted to have the whole thing all thought out and go in order down my street and how that never seems to be how things work out in the Shooter house.

Well, I actually had a post ready to go to introduce you to Fruitcake Mary this week. Instead, you're going to meet the newest additions ~ Bugsy & Precious.

Before I formally introduce them, I need to explain the change up...

Y'all know our precious Sweet Girl, our Eula Mae.

Girl Child's buddy. Her confidant. Her playmate.

Her friend that she misses more than words can explain.

(It's a whole other post. Maybe for tomorrow in fact, cause I need some Momma advice.)

Well, things are happening over at our Sweet Girl's house that are turning out to be very difficult to watch.

First, Harley Momma (I'm tellin' ya, I have great neighbors!) and I had to find a home for Miss Daisy the shitzu. That about killed us all from the git-go.

Then, the lady-who-we-all-trusted-with-our-Eula Mae, and her son backed a truck up to the door and proceeded to steal several very large items. We all watched. We thought she was taking them to our Sweet Girl in the nursing home.

Next have been the countless, daily prospective home buyers. I don't know why it's so hard to watch strangers go in and out...but, it is. My protectiveness of Eula Mae is overwhelming. I don't want people looking at her stuff. Touching her things. My littlest Crumb Snatcher is not dealing with it pleasantly. She starts a fight with her brother and acts hideously if she's outside at the time of the showing. I finally figured this out the other day when I witnessed the whole thing from start to finish. My heart hurt for her. I guess she figures if she makes a big enough scene, the people looking will not want to live near her.

Girl Child came in yesterday with a stricken look and that precious chin quivering. Because now there's a trailer parked in the drive-way for the auction house...

It's tough being 40 and watching all this going on. I get it. I don't like it, but I understand it.

Crumb #2 is 9. She doesn't get. She doesn't understand it. She doesn't like it. And she's struggling.

I've been having a long conversation with God about this whole thing.

His answer couldn't have been more perfect.

And here they are...

That's Bugsy with The Belly. And Precious, her finance'.

Why those names?

Since I've only lived next to them for two months I haven't come up with any permanent names yet. The Recluse Artist, Harley Momma, Sweet Girl, The Newlyweds, Hot Head Tom, Crazy Larry and Fruitcake Mary are all appropriate because I've lived with them for a long time! Know what I mean?

So Bugsy is Bugsy because that's her real nickname. I can't call her it. I don't know why. I call her by her beautiful given name. It fits her. She's beautiful. Inside and out.

The beautiful artwork on her chest? It is a tribute to her momma. She died at 36. It's literally a piece of art. She's a trained classical musician. She rides a unicycle. She knows more about cars than Big Shooter. (I know. He has a big crush on her.) She used to make reeds for Yamaha. She paints. And she's about to bless The Neighborhood with June Bug. (Girl Child and I have a big crush on her too. I think Crumb #1 does too. But I think it for reasons this momma doesn't want to contemplate at the present. Thankyouverymuch.)

Precious will roll his eyes when I tell him that's what his name is...for now. I tried a bunch. Tat Boy (he has a bunch you can't see in the pictures). Dreadlock Dude. Bugsy's Boy. Cool Cat. They all work. But none fit. He is, by far, the most thoughtful, hardworking, responsible and loving 21 yo I have met in a loooong time. So what does a over bearing, compulsive momma call that? Why, Precious, of course.

And he is.

And they are.

Love Note to my Big Shooter: It's been a while since you've experienced the Compulsive Nurturer. I must first give you my condolences and second, my gratitude because you are handling it beautifully! Thank you, Love.

A picture says a 1,007 words...

What's Your Signature Saying?

Are you known for anything you say often?

Do your family or friends ever give you that knowing glance and say it before you do in that "gottcha" kind of way?



One of my aunts, who lives in Utah, says, "Oh my heck."



My granddad had a very...shall we say, colorful expression he used frequently.



Big Shooter says, "Life is good" quite frequently.



And apparently, I say, "Oh my word" in between every sentence.



In fact, I've been told I have so many different ways of saying this phrase that I have one for every kind of situation.

• In response to Girl Child telling me she's finished yet another chapter book in a single evening: (said with the Momma Wow voice), " Oh my worrrd!"

• After Boy Child tells me, in agonizingly great detail, the many life-sustaining battles on a video game: (said with as much fake momma wow as I can muster), "Oh...my word."

• Tasting some divine culinary treat: (said slowly with a throaty voice), "Oh...my....worrrrd...".

• After Saucy Sashi gives me some unbelievable news: (each word is said separately and slowly with my eyebrows up as far as they can go), "Oh. My. Word. "

• Screeching at the top of my lungs when seeing a scary jumping bug, "Ohmyword! Ohmyword! OhmyWORD!!"

I'm dying to know if y'all have a signature saying of your own? Please share it with us. What is it? Where'd you first hear it? What does it mean to you and how often do you express it?

Love Note to my Big Shooter: I should have said your Signature Saying is, "Zzzzzzzz. snort. Zzzzzzzz."

My newest addiction...

I think I mentioned a long while ago we were working on a garden?

It's growing.

That in itself is a miracle.

The Crumbs are looking forward to eating the vegetables.

That is another miracle.

We are going to have lots of tomatoes. Lots.

So I am exploring things I can make with them.

Big Shooter and I love brushetta. He makes it for me all year round.

So I decided to try a few little variations to make it more interesting. Y'all already may make it like this. Or it may just be too simple for your tastes.

But, lemme just tell ya...

This one knocks my socks off!

Slice and toast these. Dice these. And these.
Add these. And mix. I almost forgot the best part!

Spread this on hot slices.

Scoop the tomato mixture on and ...

Sprinkle this on top.

Viola!!

I can't seem to get enough of it. I've had it for lunch. And with dinner for the past 5 days. When I get to use fresh-from-the-garden tomatoes...Woo Eeee! Look out Rachel Ray! (Big Shooter has a crush on her by the way.)

Just wanted to share. It was love at first bite.

Finally! A new mistress.

The search was exhausting.

The search was torment.

The search was arduous.

The search took us from sea to shining sea.

(By sea I mean tears...His wimpering and sniffling got old.)



But FINALLY, he has found the Perfect Girl to replace the tramp that plagued my life for far too long.



I may even partake in a menage trois now and then just to get the job done if need be!



Meet Red Toro. His new love.

Love Note to my Big Shooter: I should have known you'd do a bang-up job. She's pretty. She's clean. She's respectable. And best of all her reputation is irrefutable. Congratulations Big Shooter on a fantastic choice.

It might just be a redneck date, if...

the entire 4 hours is spent perusing the aisles of Wal*Mart together.

Love Note to my Big Shooter: Wooo Eeeee!! You sure can show a girl a good time! How'd I get so dang lucky??

Effects of Swine Flu

Girl Child said, "...so that's really what happens if you get swine flu?"
"Yep," I assured her.
After a pretty long pause and intense study of the picture she decided, "Well I'd better be very careful with germs...that means staying away from boys. Especially dirty ones."
"Yep," I assured her smiling to myself.

Love Note to my Big Shooter: You can do two things later - thank me for giving you another reason for Girl Child to avoid dirty boys and to show me why she should avoid dirty boys...winkety, wink.

The Arrogance is unFreakin' believable!

Sorry people, I can't take it any more.

When President-Elect Obama compared himself to Lincoln - The Great Emancipator, I vowed to zip it and not point out he hadn't done anything yet. Yes. He was taking over the reigns of a country divided and had big plans for healing...however, I felt, he needed to earn that kind of respect.

I told myself not to pass any judgement for the first 100 days. Let him get his feet wet. Let him find some footing.

That was until yesterday.

"I would put these first four months up against any prior administration since FDR," Obama said.

??????????????

That, my friends, is pure unadulterated arrogance...

Let me ask you these questions:

• Would Kennedy have greeted and then entertained Castro and Chavez like family?
• Would Reagan have shut down our CIA systems around the world in the middle of a War on Terror?
• Would Roosevelt excuse all the terrorists of the U.S.S. Cole, Gitmo and the 9/11 masterminds?
• Did Clinton make his first call as Mr. President to Mahmoud Abbas, leader of Fatah party in the Palestinian territory or grant his first interview as prez on Al Arabia television?

Those are just a few of the posts that were dying to get typed. Not to mention the fact he recently signed an executive order (he wrote it back in Feb.) of presidential determination allowing hundreds of thousands of Palestinians to settle in the United States at American taxpayers' expense. By executive order, President Barack Obama has ordered the expenditure of $20.3 million in migration assistance to the Palestinians. (Federal Register FR Doc. E9-2488) Did you read that?

It's a done deal. We are now going to pay the way to the American Dream for people who openly hate America. Niiiice.

Today he is with Abbas shaking his finger at Israel.

Unbelievable.

Note to my Big Shooter: I know you wanted me to rant about the D-Day snub, but I couldn't get past the "I am the greatest thing since sliced bread" insinuation. In 44 months will there even be words great enough to describe his administration?

Mooning on I-44

Have I ever told you about the time I mooned many passersby on Interstate 44?

Albeit unwillingly. But, mooned none the less.

Y'all know I'm really a Farm Girl from Idaho at heart. And Farm Girls have certain skills that most Citifieds wouldn't ever consider skills - until needed, of course. Like, pluckin' a chicken. Knowledge of irrigation. And the ability for quick, but modest, impromptu emptying of bladders out of doors.

Late one evening, before we were married, Big Shooter and I were traveling on a stretch of I-44 that has no rest stops for like a billion miles. Usually it's not a big deal. The problem was I'd drank the equivalent of a keg of ice tea while visiting Aunt Faye and Uncle Woodrow on their homeplace. I was new to Oklahoma and sweet tea. I didn't yet know that tea has a diuretic effect on me. An almost immediate effect.

My well thought out plan was to have Big Shooter pull to the side, turn off his lights, wait until there was a large gap between cars passing us and quickly take care of my business in front of his car where they couldn't see me. I had taken care of business in this manner 100s of times grownin' up. This would be no big deal. Just immediate, glorious relief. It would have worked out beautifully because the cars traveling in the opposite direction were also too far away to see anything either.

Unless the person you love,

the person you are betrothed to,

the one person in the world you trust more than any other...

slowly backs up the vehicle you are using as a privacy shield while you are, um... incapable of moving.

And then does this...

And the people traveling in both directions see this...

Big Shooter, obviously living in the same fantasy land he still visits often, thinks I'll have this reaction...

When, back in the real world, I have this one...

And then this one...

At which this point he realizes his dilemma.

He's afraid to let me back in the car because he's afraid for his life.

So he locks the doors.

Then he realizes that's not such a bright idea either because I simply turned heel and started walking down the road.

Back to Plainsville.

In the middle of the night.

On the side of I-44.

With him following me.

Slowly in the emergency lane.

With his lights shining on me.

Are you getting the picture?

Now he's realizing how this looks. That at any moment a State Trooper is going to pull over to investigate.

And he knows - I will have NO MERCY.

He's, once again, afraid for his life.

Smart boy.

Kinda.

After much begging, pleading, promising and apologizing - I finally got back in his car.

The next morning his car looked similar to this...

I'm kidding of course.

Kinda.

But that will have to wait for another post.

Love Note to my Big Shooter:

Dear Big Shooter,

Thanks for sending me the picture of the mooning ducks. They were adorable as could be. Brought back some fond memories. Made me take a stroll down Memory Lane. I love it when you send me emails in the middle of the day with a sweet note. Makes me feel loved and thought about. Feel free to send me more any time. I just file them under Blog Fodder...I mean, Notes from the Love of my Life. Have a fabulous day Sweetness. Can't wait for you to come home.

Lovies,

Straight Shooter

Things you see on the road.

Have I ever shared with y'all how much I'd love, love, LOVE to homeschool on the road?

Sell the house. Buy a motor home. Be nomads across this beautiful country of ours...I'd teach the little Crumb Snatchers a lesson on a certain place or activity while Big Shooter was driving there.

Talk about a real life education!

I have to say, however, each time we fantasize about it...

this is not quite the car I'd always imagined us driving around to explore in.

Now it is.

However, that was not really what I wanted to show you.
See that truck coming up behind me in the mirror?
Well, he's carrying a real important load.

How do I know?
Easy.
It said so.


That yellow strip right under the doors and above his bumper told us what prized load he was transferring across state lines.

The blurry words say,

"CAUTION - PRIZE CHICKENS"

Crumb Snatcher Speak & a Sashi Saying

• As we passed a hospital that specializes in brain trauma and mental issues, I said, "Mommy used to work at that mental hospital before you were born." Girl Child immediately corrected me with, "Didn't you mean to say lived there...not worked there?"

• While eating in a local yocal diner in small-town America (Pawhuska, OK) Girl Child observed just how busy it was during the lunch hour. "I mean, wow Mommy...people really do live in this town."

• "I am so not looking forward to my teenage years, " Boy Child solemnly announced yesterday. "Why? What's going to happen during your teenage years that will be so bad?" I asked. "You know, Mom. Braces and pimples...and braces and pimples are just life's way of saying it bites to be old. Like you Mom." Long pause. Then, "No offense Mom."

• I was trying to explain the concept of a wedding reception to Boy Child and his fellow 10 yo friend when Boy's light turned on and he proudly reported, "Oh yeah! I know what a wedding reception is Mommy! It's where I'll learn to spin on my back on the dance floor."

• My fave of the whole post was uttered so seriously and matter-of-factly by Saucy Sashi to one of her offspring in the van one day, I almost missed it..."If you don't stop chewing on your toenails, you won't get any ice cream."

Love Note to my Big Shooter: Wow! I realized as I was typing this post, either you haven't given me your typical blog fodder lately or I haven't been documenting them for posterity's sake (read blog's sake please). I am falling down on the job and haven't even had a good stiff drink to blame it on. I shall be Johnny-on-the-Spot from now on so watch what you say and do Buddy Boy!

Yesterday's post got me thinking about names and I remembered this fun name game my sweet friend FarOut Mom did a looooong time ago.

You'll love this. (Big Shooter's are red.)

• Rock Star Name: (1st Pet's name & current car) ~ PoPo DeVille (Ginger DeVille)
• Fly Guy/Girl Name: (1st initial + first 3 letters of your last name) ~ S-Mer
• Detective Name: (Fave color & fave animal) ~ Red Dog (Blue Cobra)
• Soap Opera Name: (Middle name & city/town born in) ~ Ann Falls (It's really Twin Falls, but that sounds so super silly!) (Robert Rupert)
• Star Wars Name: (First 3 letters of last name + first 2 of first name) ~ Merst (Merb-R)
• Superhero: ("The" & second fave color & fave drink) ~ The Pink Apple Pucker (with a spritz) (Black Jack DC)
• Nascar Name: (1st names of grandfathers') ~ Keith Ole
• Stripper Name: (Fave scent/perfume/cologne & fave candy) ~ Black Vette Chocolate(Fierce Jellybean)
• Witness Protection Name: (Mom & Dad's middle name) ~ Rae Findley (Helen G.)
• Weather Anchor Name: (5th grade teacher's last name & a city which starts with the same letter) ~ Memphis McAdams (Wynnewood Wright)
• Spy/Bond Name: (fave season/holiday & fave flower) ~ Summer Lily (Christmas Tulip)
• Cartoon Name: (fave fruit & article of present clothing + "ie" or "y") ~ Mango Shorty (Blueberry Bootsie)
• Hippy Name: (What you ate for breakfast & fave tree) ~ LoMein Dogwood (Kracker Pine)

That was fun!

My faves were PoPo DeVille and The Pink Apple Pucker. Big Shooter's fave was his stripper name Fierce Jellybean. If you partake in it yourself...leave me your fave creation for yourself.

Love Note to my Big Shooter: I think Sledge should meet Kracker Pine. I think they would be soul brothers...

Name game

I'm a name girl. Always have been.

I love names.

Naming my own children was like running a marathon.

We had the names we'd call them everyday picked out before they were a twinkle in Big Shooter's eyes. It was the middle names that gave us problems. Since I'd taught school, every name that came into contention I had a distinct like or dislike of.

Boy Child was not near as difficult as Girl Child though.

Big Shooter and I could NOT agree.

I thought we'd come to an agreement on the way to the hospital.

So did he.

Until he went with her to the nursery and I listened intently to the anesthesiologist and my O.B. G.'s conversation... then I wanted to change my mind. I loved the anesthesiologist's daughter's name. AND it was my great-granny's maiden name to boot! Ashton. I loved it.

(Of course I loved Cody Ryan, Paxton, Merry and Yancy too.)

She (the OB) and Big Shooter would have nothing to do with it. They were tired of me and my mind changing. So, they filled out the birth certificate with all the names Big Shooter and I had previously agreed on and I signed it.

Girl Child is blessed with four names.

Poor girl. She still can't wrap her mind around it.

What brought all this up?

Well remember my sweet, new, alternative-livin', heavily tattooed and very young neighbors? Did I mention they were 7 1/2 prego?

With Juniper.

I love that name.


Love Note to my Big Shooter: Thank you for stepping in. You knew who they both were the moment you laid eyes on them. Me, on the other hand, was irrational with extremely high raging prego hormones and couldn't think clearly. You saved the day as usual. Sigh. I love you.

"Dallas or Bust!"

That's what we painted on the Gas Hog's windows.

Dallas is our End of the Year Field Trip destination to see the one and only -

Olliver, the brain dead pug, has a weekend of play dates planned. The grass has been watered sufficiently for the past 21 days in a row. And Sledge is itching to hit the road.

So off we go into the wild blue yonder!

May God have mercy on our many travel companions' souls.

Love Note to my Big Shooter: You have ONE LAST HURRAH before we return to Plainsville and BUY A LAWNMOWER...or I am taking my bloggy friends' advice and either picking out a new girl for you OR hiring a shiny, new, powerful, well-built Bad Boy to mow the grass. You know how I {heart} Bad Boys...

Once Upon a Time

There was a man who loved his new yard...But nothing compared to the love he had for his lawn mower.
He was exceptionally proud of his love affair.
He met her in a friend's garage. It was a meeting filled with hot anticipation and lusty secrecy.
He proudly brought her home. Only to find his wife very unaccepting of this dirty, dirty girl.
His testosterone ran high as he defended her honor and questionable class to his un-understanding wife.
He could not begin to comprehend why his thoughtless spouse could call her such hurtful names.
Ugly. Dirty. Used up. Unusable. And the worst, cheap.
On the inside, he knew these things to be true.
But, on the outside he fought for her a place in the palace garage.
His wife agreed.
With conditions.
He readily agreed to them.

• Wife would never, under any circumstances, have to touch the dirty, piece of trash.
• He would only bring her out from the back recess of the garage in the late evening hours when the light was fading and the neighbors had most likely retired to the AC of their homes.
• When she died, she would quickly be replaced by one with a...clean reputation.

For 14 years he abode by the conditions. Never once did he ask the wife to intermingle with the help. Not once did he bring her out into the light.

And then she died.

And the man has been heartbroken ever since.
His spirit is gone.
His lawn is in dire straights.
His pent up frustrations of the last 14 years are shining through.
He cannot/will not/refuses to honor the last condition.
His wife is tired of staring at this...

She has given him sufficient time to mourn the passing of his slutty mistress.

He, apparently, feels he needs more time.

The wife has heard from all the neighbors. They wonder what has happened to The Pride the man once had. She is too ashamed to tell them the truth.

She has asked politely, reminded gently, then whined and bitched.

She even asked to go look at replacements on the saint of all days, Mother's Day, knowing he could not refuse.

"O, Darling Husband, that I love with all my heart, please accompany me to Lowe's, Home Depot, Sears, and the nearest farmer's Co-Op to look for a respectable replacement for your dead girlfriend."

It may have been in the way she asked, but he actually thought of refusing her on the Saint of All Days...

Eventually he agreed. But each one had something "not right" about it.

Too small.Too much power.Just too much everything.

The wife was disappointed to say the least. Their yard will look like this very soon. She is out of sadistic, bribing, guilt-inducing ideas. She is begging/seeking/ your help.

Her desire is to have this man living in her home again.One who loves his yard.
And yes, his mower too.

Love Note to my Big Shooter: I'll only give in and tell them the pics I've been posting are not really pictures of your yard...after you replace that sleazy tramp. Not a second before. Get over her already!

Welcome to the Hood

I so wanted to have this introduction to my "charming neighborhood" all thought out and planned in order of the houses.

And typical of my charming neighborhood...it ain't gonna work out like that.

Today you get to meet the Recluse Artist. By meet I don't mean get to see and make his acquaintance. You get to hear about him.

• He has lived across the street from the Shooters for about 14 years.
• He did not talk to us for the first 9. (Don't think I didn't try. Alot.)
• He leaves his house every day between 4 and 4:30pm.
• He returns with a case of beer.
• He has long hippy hair.
• He walks with a cane.
• He is thoughtful enough to make sure his Pink Floyd is heard by us all. In our houses.
• His art is unbelievably fantastic. Fantastically scary. And fantastically creative.
• He threatened our other neighbor, a former Vietnam vet, whom I'll call Hot Head for a very real reason, with a hammer one morning. (I guess he'd eaten his Wheaties.)

Things always seem to happen to his house. During the Ice Storm of the Century, the Crumbs and I watched in disbelief as giant tree limb after tree limb crashed down on his roof and car. Someone recently decided to use the side of his house for bottle rocket target practice. And today...

Young Pedro decided to park his "borrowed" ride on Artist's porch.

He was showing off for Girlfriend.

Their date ended in the backseat.

Of a police cruiser.

That'd be Young Pedro getting the cuffs.

Recluse Artist is in the blue shirt.

He's leaning over on his cane so you can't enjoy his long hippy hair.

(Yes. I was just standing out in broad daylight snapping pics with my phone. I figured it wasn't me who should be embarrassed.)

That would be Girlfriend standing beside the car talking/crying/confessing her undying love to Romeo.

I was concerned about what kind of life lesson the whole thing was teaching the Crumbs when Girl Child pointed out to me what a fool young Girlfriend was. When I gave her the Momma raised eyebrow look, she pointed out, "She should be embarrassed. She should re-think her boyfriend choices. She needs to change purses."

????

I looked more closely.

Sure enough, as bold as Dallas, her purse said, "I (heart) Bad Boys"..

Yup.

It couldn't have been a better life lesson today in the hood for the Crumbs.

Love Note to my Big Shooter: Oh the fun we have while you are away!