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!

I'm in a dither...

Lately havin' too many topics to choose from to share has NOT been a problem.

'Member that whole dried up period I just supposedly went through and am now over? Well, I am over it. Mostly. But, I still wonder what to write about each time I sit down.

Tonight, I don't have that dilemma.

You see a while back my most lovely friend Podcastin' Cyndi, whom by the way is known as Hyacinth to the rest of the bloggin' world (Yeah, uh huh. That's right. I am friends with Ree's best friend. Go ahead...touch me. Ssssss. It burned ya, didn't it? Or were you rollin' your eyes because you can't believe I stooped to pullin' out my Pioneer Woman card again?)...any way, my lovely, lovely friend Podcastin' Cyndi suggested I write a series about "the charming neighborhood" I live in. (Stop laughin' family and real life friends...you're risking offending Ree's real life friend.) And tonight would be a good story to introduce the hood to y'all.

Or

I also wanted to share a most delightful little tidbit complete with fabulous and interesting pics about that state (Idaho) I am always writing about (Idaho) and haven't lived there full-time in over 20 years...

OR

The fact I cannot, no matter how much I beg, plead, demand, cajole, whine, barter or any other method you can name...get Big Shooter to purchase a new lawn mower. This is the same guy who steamrolled over his betrothed and only precious-beyond-words daughter in the parking lot to get into the electronics store to purchase a new TV last year. Apparently, mowers just don't do it for him like plasma?

I can't imagine why?

So...

I am going to bed.

I'm not elaborating on my new, young, hip, alternative-living, abundantly tatted and pierced neighbors whom I just returned home from the hospital with a few minutes ago.

I'm not elaborating on the phenomenon very few people (me and Big Shooter included) have witnessed in real life...in Idaho.

And I am not elaborating on the testosterone levels in my house involving a lawn mowing devise.

G'night. Sleep tight. Don't let the bed bugs bite.

Love Note to my Big Shooter: Shush. Not a word. You had your Cancer Card. I am allowed one too. Mine just happens to be someone, instead of something!

SS just might be stirring the pot...

Many times I watch the news and wonder "What is wrong with today's kids? Why don't they accept responsibility for anything? Where's the empathy? How do they justify their actions?"

Here's a great example. I am sure most of you have heard this story...

FINDLAY, Ohio (Associated Press) -- An Ohio teenager says he expects to be suspended from a Christian school for attending a public school prom with his girlfriend.
Officials at Heritage Christian School in Findlay had warned 17-year-old Tyler Frost that he would be suspended and prohibited from attending graduation if he went to the Saturday dance. The fundamentalist Baptist school in northwest Ohio forbids dancing, rock music and hand holding.
Frost says he went to the dance because he wanted to experience the prom and didn't think it was wrong.
School officials say he could complete his final exams separately to receive a diploma.
Frost's stepfather says the rules shouldn't apply outside of school and he may take legal action if Frost is suspended.

I have a very strong opinion about this situation...and I am sure many of you do not share it.

Here's my take: We have a parent who pays tuition to a school that holds their students to a different standard than the public schools. He knows their beliefs. I am assuming he supports them since his kid is a student there. More than likely his son has signed a Code of Conduct (standard fare in private christian schools) that states he (the son) understands their beliefs, supports them, will uphold them on and off campus in his daily life.

He decides he has been neglected his right to experience life outside his family's choice for him. The school stands their ground. He chooses to go against the rules. And then acts like he's the victim because they are going to follow through with their part of the agreement. Does Daddy-O use this opportunity as a very valuable life lesson? No. He chooses to teach his son the rules don't apply to us. We should be able to do what we want, because we want to. He teaches his boy that he doesn't have to take responsibility for his choices or actions. And he feels very justified in his actions because their strict standards and expectations are too much. Doesn't matter that he knew that going in...

He's passing on a lack of respect for authority.

He's passing on a lack of responsibility for ones' actions and choices.

He's passing on the self-indulgence that is rampant in America.

He's encouraging the distasteful habit of placing blame on others to justify oneself.

That's how I see it.

How about you?

And btw, I totally do NOT agree with the schools beliefs of no dancing, rock music and hand holding. But, that was not the point...

Love Note to my Big Shooter: When I read this the first time, it immediately raised my shackles. How dare this school tell this boy what he can and can not do! Then I thought about it and realized how very wrong I was. It embarrasses and humiliates me that my first reaction was the all too common worldly one... Will you still love me in the morning?

Dear Grammie...

WE LOVE YOU!

Crumb Snatchers have threatened to Revolt

because I, apparently, haven't "taken the pig flu thing serious enough" and we are still...

I was very tempted to say we'd be out of school for that reason when...

but then again thought better of it. Pigs fly is a little to close to pig flew or flu...

They heard on the news that Dallas schools are closed all week. They wanted to know, "Why? Why?? Why...couldn't they have a cool mom?" Instead of one that makes the...

I explained that this...and this...

was not going to enter our school grounds to infect them in any way. So put on your big boy underwear and big girl panties and DEAL WITH THE OLD MEAN SCHOOL MARM.

That's when Girl Child threatened to do this......or REVOLT.

First, I asked her to spell it.
She did.

Then I asked her if she could tell me the correct meaning.
She did.

Then I offered to give her a free ride to either the Health Department or DHS. Her pick.
She didn't...like my attitude. She told me.

This is what I looked like when I cracked myself up...

Even though we now have confirmed cases of Swine Flu here in Okie-Homa. I cannot convince myself it's serious. Is it the name? Is it the thought? Is it all hype?

Are all the swine feeling this way about now...

What are your deep thoughts on the matter? Do you have the epidemic pig flu of 09 in your neck of the woods? Did you have your flu shot? Do you prefer tangy & sweet BBQ sauce or spicy and bold?

Love Note to my Big Shooter: Hey big guy. I have bupkus tonight. That's a rarity. I always have some thing to say to you. So soak up the silence my friend. Soak it on up.

...and then she hung up on me.

I ordered a little some thing for Big Shooter on April 6th.

It left Sacramento on April 9th to begin it's little journey to him.

It arrived in Minneapolis, Minnesota 4 days later.

It went straight past us on it's way to Dallas on April 17th.

After a brief stay in the Big D it traveled to Northeast OK. (I know this as a fact, cause I was following it the whole time on the cool little tracker thingy.)

After another brief stay (in Northeast OK...where we live), it left on it's way to West Virgina.

It arrived in West Virgina... 4 days later... April 26th.

I called FedEx.

The first person was kind and patient. But, clueless.

The second thoughtfully told me my package had arrived safely in West Virgina.

Duh. The problem is I don't live there...I politely explained.

She was unconcerned. And unapologetic.

I was...not. Unconcerned or too thoughtful.

Now I know it is not their fault. I know accidents happen. I know they are trying their best.

But, I really had had all I could take since my package had left Sacramento 15 days prior. Had traveled from the west coast to the north, past us even further south, and then left us...on it's way to the east coast...

So I told her so.

She didn't appreciate my attitude. She told me so.

I told her I didn't appreciate her nonchalant one either.

She didn't appreciate my tone of voice either. She told me so.

I asked her if she was familiar with the geography of the U.S.?

...that's when she hung up on me.

I have this fantastic new software called Bamboo (from a certain group of fabulous friends) where I can draw on pictures. Which I did to show the route of BS's package. It is fun and funny. But, like yesterday's ignorance problem, I cannot get Blogger to upload the saved pic. So you'll just have to imagine lines drawn from the west coast, to the north, to the south, to the east, back to the south and finally to me in OK on this map...

He got his little surprise on May 1.

I tried to call her.

Just to let her know it arrived safely.


Love Note to my Big Shooter: Arrrrgh! Now I know how you feel all the live long day! Dealing with rude, unhelpful people. No wonder you get headaches! Come home to Mamacita...I'll make you forget about the idiots of the world. Wink, wink. ...right after you slay the Blue Dragon so I can share the video...since I am a member of the idiots of the world!

I embrace my illiteracy

When it comes to computers I have two choices:

• Freak out
• or...embrace my ignorance.

Usually, unless it's JBF, I embrace the illiteracy and wait for The Savior of My Computer World (a.k.a. Big Shooter, Sledge, Love of my Life, etc.) to rescue me.

Like today.

Today, I would really, really like to post the video of Girl Child and myself being propelled into space. However, my ignorance about getting this DVR thing (or CDr thing, movie thing, what ever thing...see what I mean) copied to my computer so I can upload it to youtube is not happenin' without serious intervention.

Do y'all have things that make your smooth running lives come to a screeching halt like the check writer in the credit card commercial? Something that causes you to count to 10? Or makes you have to remind yourself to breathe?

Mine would be certain computer tasks. And knitting.

And cooking.

And cleaning.

Love Note to my Big Shooter: O, brave and gallant knight, I await thee to slay thy Blue Dragon. Thou will show pleasure and thankfulness in any way thee wishes...

Big Shooter, What were you thinking?!

Chickening out and sending your Beloved sling shooting into the air with your youngest Crumb Snatcher?

Tsk. Tsk.

1...

2...

Whee...

Yup.

That's Girl Child and myself...

Her: brave, bold and barely tall enough!

Me: not brave and bold...and barely tall enough.

Meet the cross between Sledge and Straight Shooter.

She's one cool chick.

Tomorrow...the video.

Love Note to my Big Shooter: cluck, cluck, cluuuuck. bawk, bawk, bawwwwck!! (not sure which one to type to illustrate a chicken sound ;o) Either way, I had my hands tucked under my pits flapping my wings while I made them!