Don’t even know where to start…

So I’ll just start typing and see what comes of it.

Ever stopped, cold turkey, something that border lined addiction? (Like, say… blogging?)
Did you go thru withdrawls? (Like the kind associated with blogging.)
What did you do? (You know for the finger curling? And mind-numbing, overabundance of time?)
How long did they last? (When I finally realized the familiar statement, “I’m gonna so blog about that,” didn’t have quite the punch/threat/reaction I so relished…I finally began to accept my self exile.)
I am not even sure what brought the whole thing on.
I just know it's pretty much run it's course now.

Regarding Big Shooter moving back in...y'all know our Deal right?
Anyone can walk away from the marriage at any moment...as long as they take the bad car and the Spawn.
Neither one was too overly appealing so he put on his big boy jock strap and dealt with it! He even told me "Thank you for loaning me my testicles for a few days to help me over the hump."

Just kidding people...about him moving in and out. Not about the testicle loaning.

Love Note to my Big Shooter: Thank you for being supportive of me while I went thru this grumpy dry spell. Your patience are astounding...you should really have your head examined.

(gulp) I am coming up for air in a day or two...

Hello Bloggydom!
I let Big Shooter move back in, so the Shooter household seems to be getting back to normal. Okay, normal enough...
I'm planning on jumping back into the mix in a coupla days or so.

I've missed y'all!

Can't wait to hear what you've been up to...

Nicknames, Alternative Handles or "Hey, you!"

My dear bloggy friend, Somebody Loved, asked yesterday if I called Big Shooter anything besides Sledge...

Now those of you who know me personally I politely ask you to stop snickering, cause this is supposedly a family friendly(ish) kinda blog and I'm not sharing all the nicknames Big Shooter gets called...often.

Sheila's question really got me thinking about names we are affectionately called or call others. Every time I talked to one of the Crumbs today, I thought about what I called them. I am definitely a nicknamer.

When I taught 3rd graders, I rarely called them by their names. I always called them Sweetie, Honey, Darlin', Love Child (I know, that last one is borderline weird.). Every new class took a little adjusting, then they all got used to it and didn't ask why anymore. I didn't have an answer anyway. I just did it. I still do. Everyone in my life has a nickname of some sort. They may not know it. But I do...and more than likely so do the Crumbs and Big Shooter.

Big Shooter's real life name starts with a B, so when we first dated that's all I called him. B. Now, once his fam got used to my personality and my name starts with S...you get the picture. Together, we are a bunch of BS...I know, it's corny. But, it sure is true corniness.

I really just call him Love. Or Darlin'. Or Love Monkey. Or Hunka Burnin' Love. Or Bubba. Or Dork. But mostly, Love. Sometimes I add Muffin at the end. How's that for feminine Sheila? Are any of those helping Tony feel better about Lovebug?

Now the Crumbs? They don't really know their real given names.
Boy Child gets called - Boy, Pants, Brother, First Child, Boy Child, Sweetheart, Little Love, Darlin', Bubba Boy, Sweet Boy, Sweetheart, and Doofus.
Girl Child gets called - Girl, Skirt, Sister, Sissy, MBR (her initials), Sweetness, Sugar, Love Child, Princess, Baby Cakes, Sweetie, Honey Bunch, Darlin', and Dorkus.

Even Olliver doesn't really know his name. He gets called - My Baby, Babykins, The Good Child, The Dumb Dog, The Damn Dog, The Bestest Dog, Frog Man, Salty Dog, Scrawny Legs, Dead Weight and of course, Brain Dead.

What do you call your fam, friends, loved ones...enemies?

Love Note to my Big Shooter: B, Bubba, Sledge, Love, Darlin', Sweetie-Pie-Honey-Bunch, Love of my Life, Dorkfest. Of all of them, my favorite is Survivor. Before you get all swarmy and gooey warm on the inside, I don't mean cancer survivor, I mean a survivor of me....heh, heh.

Big Shooter's Fan Club

Here's my manly husband.

...in his wig.

Y'all know I lovingly call this character, Sledge.

Now, I unabashedly love Sledge.

Alot.

He's not at all like the boy I married.

I must have a hidden thing for rockers.

Trouble makers.

Law breakers perhaps.

Bad boys.

But it seems I am not the only one.

Here's how I know. Big Shooter sent in a couple pictures to the place he bought the wig from because they knew he was using it for Halloween and asked to see how he turned out.

He obliged.

And then the first few emails arrived from the owner of the wig business.

He explained he'd begun receiving inquiries about the hot rocker dude and thought it'd be fun for Big Shooter to know.

Here's the latest email:

From: WFP

To: Big Shooter

Sent: Fri Mar 13 11:56:14 2009

Subject: inquiries

Hi Big Shooter,

Just wanted to update you on your picture on our site, We still have a lot of women who email us to ask us who the handsome guy is. One lady wrote to ask if you were available, I told her that you are not...lol I do not and will not give them any information, but just thought that I would let you know that you have a fan club out there, Take care and thank you so much for your pictures. Say hello to your wife who helped set you up for the photos.

Al (WFP)

Now, Big Shooter would be flattered and more than likely get a big head like any other red-blooded man IF he hadn't already seen the majority of clientele photos for this particular business...

The following are just 6 reasons he's not all that flattered by Al's latest email.

(1)

(2)


(3)

(4)

(5)

And my personal favorite...

(6)

Wig wearer.

Rocker Dude.

Fan Club.

Transvestites.

Husband.

Nope.

Sledge is not anything like the boy I married.

That combination of words would have caused that boy to change his pants.

Love Note to my Big Shooter: I love you Sledge. Alot.

Ahhh....Spring Break

See y'all next week!!

I'll be back next Sunday the 22nd...

with a tale about Big Shooter and his internet transvestite fan club.

Not kidding.

It makes me giggle every time I think of it...

"It smells a little like poo in here..."

"...or chicken...," Big Shooter quickly tried to backtrack when he entered the house and then realized I was cooking.

Too late.

Love Note to my Big Shooter: How was that yummy, plain noodle bowl for dinner Big Guy? The kids and I loved our chicken alfredo...

(Big sigh...) Back to Momma Fluff a.k.a. Crumb Snatcher Speak

After the past few posts, you may be happy to know I am back on the xanax and wine coolers. Which translates to, "I am back to normal. It should be plain ole bore-ing momma bloggin' for a while y'all."

Girl Child Speak:

• After hearing all the ins and outs (pun not intended) of the slim odds of sperm and egg actually meeting, Girl Child shouted, "It's like The Price is Right!!! You, (pointing her finger and speaking in a deep voice) Lucky Woman are the lucky winner of a baaaaaby! This prize includes diapers, spit up, poop and looooove."

• After watching a toy being tossed to her brother hit him in the chest she giggled with glee, "Ooow, that hit you in the breasts!" Noticing the look on her brother's face I corrected her, "Scooby (nickname), boys don't have breasts." "YEAH!", exclaimed her big brother. She didn't even pause. "Oooow, that hit you in the lumps then..."

Boy Child Speak:

• Daddy-O glanced at the TV as he passed by. While backing up, he inquired about who was riding an animal on the previous shot. Boy Child informed him, "It wasn't a kid or a parent. It was another kind of human. It was a grandma."

Love Note to my Big Shooter: I am so grateful to know when Momma's not around, the Crumbs are still in capable hands. Thank you for putting on the doctor, nurturer, taxi, chef, teacher and chief bottle washer hats for me yesterday, Love.