My brother pointed out to me the other day he's getting very irritated with my blog since I haven't really posted any snarky comments or stories he would find interesting. Well, since the Tip Top isn't one of my normal visited venues, I reminded him he just might want to find another more entertaining site to visit and to leave mine alone. However, shortly after this little verbal exchange, I had a situation occur that truly set off my Blogdar (blogging radar).

In order to protect the innocent, I'll be speaking in rather vague terms. However, if you have one quarter of a brain cell, I'm sure you'll figure things out. There is a certain fair coming up that I have placed several entries into. The day to drop the entries off recently came about and I promptly drove over to deliver my pieces. Upon arriving, I was met with a very long line of fellow art dropper-offers. As the line got progressively longer, it was soon clear that watching paint dry would be equivalent to the painstaking pace at which the fair employees moved.

As I stood there, allowing my eyes to cross and my mind to drift to far off Jamaican islands, I people watched and eavesdropped on the gals standing behind me. They were in their late fifties, both holding professional looking art portfolios, and obviously were well aware of their talents and thought the simpletons in line should be too. I listened to them chat with the woman who was standing ahead of me and I saw them roll their eyes at her questions and answer in such vague terms that I thought for a moment a swift kick to the uterus might help smooth things out. However, I maintained my mule kick and continued to listen as they made their introductions, taking their time to slowly pronounce their last names, ensuring we all knew the importance of their respective families. Heck, these gals even repeated their names, I'm sure to again awe inspire the masses waiting in line.

I can't handle people who live through their last name. You were born into a family - not chosen by a hiring committee who hand selects fetuses for their breeding stock. Just because you wear a certain name shouldn't automatically place you into a deserving bracket of society; you need to earn it. And for chriminy's sake, it's friggin' Humboldt County and no one outside this emerald triangle would probably even do a double take at your credentials. It' the hazard of a small town; it sometimes creates small minds.

*Stepping off of soapbox.*

While my patience bubbled and festered over, listening to the biddies, I begged the gals at the counter for permission to set my insanely heavily framed prints down at a far off table. When they happily obliged my request, I dumped them quick and began throwing elbows in order to return to my given place in line. The biddies were still yacking and then I heard one snort and mumble under her breath, "Well! I never stack my pictures." You really need to insert an uppity, Mrs. Howell sorta voice here in order to get the full effect of how it sounded.

I casually looked back at her and smiled, sending her eye death rays and wishes her prints would warp in their wrapper. It wasn't like she said some profound statement regarding world peace - it was how how she said it, so completely judgmental and rude. I've heard horror stories about some photographers being absolute twits to other photographers but this was the first I had yet to experience it. I am so thankful when I see other people with my interest in photography - I seriously want to take them home and start a compound - minus the communal sleeping arrangements and weird ceremonies.

I continued to maintain my silence until I was finally checked in and prints handed off (unscathed I might mention). While signing off my paperwork, I looked over to see what the biddies were entering and had so ever carefully protected with their fancy packaging and vile words. As they slowly and dramatically unsheathed their work, I had to use hands as a deflective shield for my eyes due to the spotlight showering down on them. While the pictures weren't bad, they certainly weren't what I thought they were going to be. And before you even say anything, yes, I already had a bias based on the 'tudes they were portraying. It was absolutely against my very womanly nature to even enjoy their prints even a minuscule. Shallow? Yes. Pissy? Most definitely. Did it make me feel better? Heck yeah! But I'm not above a little competition and I look forward to hopefully kicking some butt - but that's outta my hands and the wrinkly hands of the biddies.

Who knew an amateur photo competition could be so fierce ;-).

Posted by Mommazilla at 08:11 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

I just realized that I never posted any pictures from Fortuna's Rodeo Parade. I haven't been in a long time so this year, I made it a point to go and take the kiddos. Rather than giving you any running commentary regarding men with sheep mullets, phallic floats, and Fortuna ladies of the night, I'll let you take a gander at what I saw:

One suggestion to the float creaters and candy passer outers - bypass the hard candies. Gunny was utterly fed up each time he picked up a shatter Lifesaver and all I heard was, "Oh gweat. Not again!" Give my poor kid a break and throw out some squishy stuff.

Posted by Mommazilla at 07:44 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

I'm still editing so I'm throwing yet another REPEAT at you. But I really like this story because it tells you so much about my little brother. This was originally posted last February of 2008. Sorry Ry.

Uncle R had an epiphany this weekend and because of it, decided to "man up" and do something that he says he's always dreamed of doing; skydiving. Now the only dreams I've had of falling 13,000 feet with a strange person tethered to my back were in actuality nightmares, and I made sure to share this safety conscious opinion with him. Much to my dismay, Uncle R proclaimed that this high flying challenge was an important factor in his growth as a man and I just couldn't argue with this testosterone laced argument. However, ironically enough, a certain new lady in his life happened to be present for his decision to jump, and the shame of knowing that she had previously made this leap of faith herself, was a strong factor in him growing a huge set of testicular fortitude.

Uncle R's adventure began with a long drive to the lovely metropolis of Acampo (near Lodi), early Saturday afternoon. When he got there, he was quickly put through a training session and then weighed in to determine who his friendly tandem partner would be. I snickered when Uncle R told me that he had to pay a little over the initial fees due to his weight. He reminded me that muscle does way more than fat so the additional $16 bucks he had to pay for his "overage" was purely because of his excellent condition. Whatever, even schatty hamburger meat goes for at least $2 a pound - how much value did they actually place on his life?! He then signed his liability paperwork and on camera, told the nation who he wanted to have his car and motorcycle go to - just in case. I was pissed that he didn't leave either one to me. Jerk. His final parting words for his friends, family, neighbors, and girl he wanted to impress was, "Oh Shat." What a classy, brave little man Uncle R is.

He was then loaded up on the plane and flown to the lovely flying altitude of 13,000 feet. His chubby little red bushy bearded tandem partner (kind of resembled a cute little garden gnome) promptly told Uncle R to have a seat on his lap so that they could get a little closer - connected that is. Uncle R admitted feeling a little strange sitting on Gnome’s lap and that Gnome did smile and chuckle quite a bit as Uncle R squirmed, hoping that it was a parachute cord in the Gnome’s pocket...The Gnome also happily told Uncle R that he had recently made a naked jump, giving Uncle R that much more confidence and weird feelings about his Gnome lap dance.

Uncle R said that he was eerily calm up to the final moment and the video tape taken of him actually proved this to be a true fact. Although calm, he was a deathly white and his answers sounded a little delayed. He was totally rockin' the deer in the headlight look and boy, did it work for him. I actually felt very nervous for him and my hands were sweating like rotten cheese, watching him get ready to take the ultimate leap of faith.

I honestly did not believe that Uncle R made the jump until I watched him do it. In slow motion, you could see him going through a series of emotions: fear, excitement, and the sudden realization of his mortality. He had a tremendous "O" face the whole way down and the Gnome was also wildly grinning, firmly attached to the back of Uncle R. The entire jump lasted about five minutes and Uncle R equated it to riding on his motorcycle's handlebars without a helmet, at about 100 mph.

He did give me a bit of a warning about what to expect when the actual parachute opened up (like I'm ever really going to consider doing this!); the jolt of the opening gave him a tremendous wedgie from Hell; so bad that he honestly thought he was tasting cotton. I gently corrected him by saying that it appeared to be more of an impressive moose knuckle he sustained. I guess with that much force, the wrenching of ones' jeans probably makes the family jewels and bunghole feel equally abused -so I won't argue the point.

Uncle R is now safely home and in possession of both video and pictorial evidence of his escapade. As we watched the video tonight, I saw him light up at the idea that he had challenged himself and had conquered such as awesome feat. I actually got a little misty eyed watching him be so brave and I was very proud of him for doing this on his own and with minimal encouragement. As we walked out to my car, he mentioned what an outstanding experience it was to go through and the video had really got him thinking. Again, as the older sis, I beamed with the idea that Uncle R had had a life changing emotional moment and that he was surely about to spew Shakespearean quotes and solve world hunger. Rather, he told me, "Sis, I've been thinking. I've got pretty eyes on that video, don't I?" I stopped and thought for a moment, "Yes, yes you do. They were especially pretty when they were actually open during the jump." He pondered this for a moment and smiled. We continued walking and I quietly chuckled to myself realizing that I still had the same old Uncle R and that this life changing experience hadn't taken away the little boy. I'm glad.

Some pic's of our Uncle R:

Posted by Mommazilla at 04:29 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

This is one of my favorite childhood stories. Now that I have some new readers, I thought I would share it again in order to provide some more psychological abuse!

Have you ever had a childhood memory, that when you really thought about it, was just a little weird? It seems like I have quite a few of those but this particular memory is well, disturbing. And, it's guaranteed to probably buy me a space in Hell, especially after Uncle R reads about his involvement and realizes I'm giving up a family secret that should have died ages ago.

When I was a little girl, my paternal grandmother was a breast cancer survivor. She was faced with getting a mastectomy and back then, reconstructive surgery really wasn't an option so women were supplied with prosthetic breasts. My grandmother's big round squishy breast was kept in the top drawer of her vanity. I don't know why she kept it in a drawer rather than in her blouse, but then again, sometimes Grandma liked to drink her dinner rather than eat it.

Uncle R and I both knew where she kept her booby prize and would often peek in the drawer to check it out, occasionally poking it with a curious finger. We each had a thing for its silky, squishy texture and we would prod it for hours (kind of like a kid's stress reliever ball - but weirder). We eventually got braver and on some days, we freed the little critter from its dark abyss, in order to just hold it for a few minutes of guilty pleasure.

One day, while Uncle R and I were visiting Grandma, we found her lone hooter lying on the bathroom counter, looking rather forlorn and lost. Our little brains worked in symphony and mischievous thoughts raced through our heads; a game of hot potato would certainly entertain her little friend while providing us with hours of endless enjoyment. Back and forth, side to side, we flung that cantaloupe size piece of squishy fun into the air, all the while listening for any evidence that Grandma might be stumbling up the creaky steps. Hearing nothing, our quiet chuckles quickly turned into gut busting belly laughter that echoed throughout the second floor bathroom. Over and over, we pelted each other with the voluminous sphere, until we were left with fresh red abrasions wherever our tender skin was exposed.

I don’t know how long Grandma was watching before she finally cleared her throat and made it known that she did not approve of our new sports activity, however, I’m guessing it was for awhile – judging by the sting left on our little butts and the threat of a “report” being made to our dad. All in all, Grandma never did make the dreaded “report” to our dad and we were let off with a warning. It never really stopped us from periodically checking in on our new little buddy, but we certainly never allowed it to become airborne again.

Posted by Mommazilla at 10:05 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

Now that I've captured your attention, here is a blow by blow of how I spent my exciting Friday night. I've placed it into chronological list fashion, in order to enhance the excitement. I've even added military time to give you a feeling of intrigue.

1830: Finished up at the carnival after watching Taters vomit up greasy, frothy french fries. She had taken a horrific ride on the Gravitron after I told her I didn't think it would suit her tummy. It took me a second to realize it was my kid throwing up - and stop laughing. I told her so!

1900: Dodged crazy drunk men and women on quads, and successfully made it home.

1930: Started editing more wedding photos with the help of Corona Light. She's a helpful gal.

2000: Editing and playing on Facebook.

2030: The editing program is open but so is my Facebook, Myspace, and Pandora.

2031: Caught a drunk guy in my front yard, trying to use my driveway as a short cut to the neighbor's beer. He was greeted by a stern warning and a garden hose. I apologized to Hubby for not allowing him to do some yelling but when you're good at something, it's hard to give up the power.

2033: Drunk guy is back, and hovering by the fenceline bushes. I grab the garden hose and cover him again, threatening to unleash a flurry of unfiltered stinky well water should he choose to cross the threshold of my homestead. He instantly puts his hands up and says he just wanted to apologize. Oops, my bad. I let drunk guy go and released my grip on the garden hose.

2035: Time for Corona Light's sister, Apricot Ale.

2100: Back to editing. And Facebook. But mainly editing.

2100 - 2300: Still editing and entertaining the beer sisters with Facebook.

2301: The drunk neighbors show up on ATV's with 50 of their closest friends. The bon fire is lit and the drunken country karaoke singing ensues.

2330: The singing is continuing and I feel as though Kenny Chesney is my livingroom, screaming at me about some stupid beach. I can feel his breath on my cheek - oh wait, maybe that was just the cat wanting out. The beer sisters made me have a little trouble confirming this fact.

0001 - 0200: The party is in full swing and some jackass is blaring a modified truck horn from his little Toyota. I don't know what is so exciting at this time of morning, but someone is whooping and hollering. I play Gladys Kravitz and peek out my front door, clucking my tongue in disapproval. Or, it could be the dry mouth the beer sisters were giving me. I continue on with my editing. And Facebook.

0230: I'm flippin' exhausted and someone has just turned up the stereo on the truck in the neighbor's yard. I stomp into the bedroom to wake Hubby up and ask if he could hear the music. He informs me he hadn't until I had so kindly woken him up.

0233: I look up neighbor's phone number and in my best friendly, 0230ish voice, ask him to have his party goers turn the music down. He calls me "Sweetie" several times, so I think he still loves me. Afterall, he's normally the word's best neighbor.

0300: I'm finally asleep and the faint sounds of Merle Haggard bounce around in my head. I occasionally hear a yell or two and that damn truck horn, but the beer sisters tell me to shut up and go back to sleep.

0830: Awake! Thanks Gunny. I know Noggin doesn't play on your TV but good lawd, son, Mommy needs her sleep!

How was your Friday night?

Posted by Mommazilla at 08:38 AM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Judging by the sound of country music, racing ATV's and the whoopin' and hollerin' coming from the neighbors, I suspect rodeo week has hit the town of Fortuna. As I sat here today, editing endless wedding photos from a June shoot, I watched a bazillion jacked up trucks pass by my house, stuffed full of cowboy and cowgirls, heading on over to the world's best neighbor's house. I really love my neighbor, but this time of year causes the man to go a bit insane. We're talking tents in the front yard, tons of picnic tables with last years booze and food still stuck to the tops, Garth Brooks screaming over his stereo speakers, endless amounts of Natural Ice, and of course, drunk cowboys and cowgirls showing the Valley how to live it up.

I carefully watched him today, out in the front yard with twenty of his best friends, setting up temporary Humboldt condos. He caught my eye and offered to put some tents up in our yard. I smiled, thanking him for his thoughtfulness and promptly turned him down. If his three day party is anything like it was last year, I expect to look out my livingroom window and seem him at some point, passed out cold on a picnic table while the rest of the revelers continue to party and dance around him. It's kinda like something from "Lord of the Flies" - some sort of redneck spiritual revelry that I simply do not understand.

I anticipate the happenings to pick up full force once Friday hits and the ATV riders get ready for the Quadiator event at the rodeo arena. What could be better than excessive amounts of alcohol, too much testosterone, and men with bats chasing other men with balloons on their head, in an effort to pop the balloon? Nothing I can think of! Whoever thought of this event is a pure genius and I thank him or her for the entertainment. It's sure to get the party started.

Well, enough complaining for now. I need to go find a clean pair of Daisy Dukes, my favorite beer koozie, and of course, some fresh possum meat to bring for the BYORK (Bring Your Own Road Kill) BBQ at the neighbors'. Heck, if you can't beat'em, JOIN'EM!

Posted by Mommazilla at 06:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)

We took the kids on a quick jaunt to Redding over the weekend. Since Hubby had to work late, we ended up taking two different cars, with me ending up with the three munchkins. My kids are normally good travelers, but it's still about 50/50 if you will see vomit on our drives. I have very sympathetic pukers, so we make sure to take our time and make frequent stops.

Prior to leaving for the trip, Hubby and I decided not to tell the monsters about the trip. It's so hard to let them know in advance because if we do, each day is broken down into twenty million questions about when we're leaving, how many more days, about how many minutes until, and so on. It drives us freakin' bonkers. I scurried about the house, hiding bags, dodging questions about missing swimsuits, and otherwise trying to be a mommy ninja. It worked and they were only informed of the trip when they got into the car and saw two sheets of Chuck E. Cheese coupons waiting for them. It doesn't take long for Chuck E. Cheese hints to set in.

The ride went great and we only had to stop once; the double dose of Triaminic did wonders. The first place we hit was In-N-Out where C-dub proclaimed it was the "bestest" food he'd ever tasted. He was so enchanted with the burgers and fries he proclaimed the place should win some sort of food award, as he was walking out the front door. Before the food could settle in and the kids (or I, for that matter) could get full, we raced over to Coldstone Creamery and partook amongst the world's best ice cream. They have a new flavor called Chocolate Cake Batter. If you love the original cake batter flavor and you even remotely enjoy chocolate, drop what you're doing now and go. Run, swim, power walk, or drive, and do what it takes to get your arse to Coldstone. It was that good.

After rolling ourselves out of Coldstone, we checked into the hotel and I took a quick scan of the swimming pool area. There were only a handful of guests, so I decided it was safe to break out my swimsuit with the kiddies. You wanna see it? I know you do. It's only natural to be curious...

I looked good...

The hotel had a really nice swimming pool, big hot tub, and a fun toddler pool that stayed oddly warm no matter what time of day. Plus, they had pool side bar service which I decided to try out once I had Hubby there as parental back-up.

Once my mermaid and mermen were done swimming, we headed back up to the room to wait for Hubby to arrive. I herded the kids into the bathroom to de-chlorinate themselves. As Gunny walked across the bathroom, I noticed he was leaving a little blood trail. He noticed too and instantly started to yell, "Momma! I'm bledding on dah floor!" He had previously cut one of his little toes and the wound had reopened up during his backstroke.

While applying pressure and trying to talk him into the benefits of a band aid, I heard Taters start to cough. During last weekend's camping trip, she had developed a nasty head cold that result in a lasting seal bark which sometime violently triggered her gag reflex. I walked back into the bathroom just in time to see her upchucking her Coldstone. I lunged forward and helf her hair back - all the while pretending I was in laying out on a white sands beach in Mexico with a bucket of chilled Coronas.

C-dub, who was still lounging in the tub, seemed to not even notice his bleeding brother and gagging sister. Rather, when the chaos settled down, he asked me, "Mom, why is der a naked yady staring at me?"

I did a double take and followed his gaze from his seated position in the tub, and this is what I saw:

A rather crispy edged, 2008 Playboy, probably placed there by some little perverted teenage boy, trying to hide his bath time fun from Momma. C-dub was very interested in what I was going to do with the Playboy, so I threw it up on the top shelf in the closet. Hopefully, I could share some love with the next family with small children - just as we had experienced.

Once I contained the blood, puke, and mild porn, I left Hubby several text messages advising him of the liquor I would need in order to proceed with the weekend. He happily obliged me and arrived at our room just prior to midnight. What a friggin' relief.

The next morning, we made our way to the Turtle Bay Exploration Park and Sundial Bridge. This is the second time we have visited Turtle Bay and we love it there. Lots of exhibits, tons of things to see and do with the kids, and excellent air conditioning provide for a super fun time. When we visited this time, they had a special viewing of "Sue" the T-Rex:

They also had an awesome exhibit of Lego structures:

And his butt (ha!):

After the indoors stuff, we visited some of the outside exhibits, including the aviary. I think this was probably C-dub's and Tater's favorite spot. I love birds but having this many birds in one spot and all the aerial poop freaked me out a tad. I also kept get accosted or molested (not sure which one applies) by a little red parrot who loved my camera. Here's the little perv:

And his little pervy friends:

You could buy little feed sticks for a $1, and the little suckers quickly became your best friends:

We then went to my favorite place which is the butterfly house. It's a big greenhouse type setting and there are butterflies everywhere! C-dub is not too big on the butterfly scene, so he guided up through with the butterfly information sheet the worker provided to us. By the time we left, he proclaimed himself to be an expert on butterfly identification.

My favorite shot of the day - found outside the butterfly house!

Prior to leaving, we walked across Sundial Bridge. It has a frosted glass bottom which makes it very interested yet terrifying to walk across:

I gave Taters my back-up camera to shoot with. We fought all afternoon for shots, but I let her have this one :-):

After we left Turtle Bay, we spent a few hours being tormented at Chuck E. Cheese. The kids had a blast and we were all exhausted by the time we got back to the room. Unfortunately, the sight of the pool was similar to what a shot of caffeine might do and the kids were once again raring to go. And that's pretty much how we spent the rest of the weekend - in and out of the pool. It was a fun weekend but I'm so glad we're home. I think our traveling is done for the summer - at least until hunting season opens.

Posted by Mommazilla at 04:05 PM | Permalink | Comments (3)

...my children currently. I think the skating baby one is just freakin' creepy. And hilarious to hear Gunny imitate Charlie's brother with his own English accent.

Posted by Mommazilla at 02:50 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Last weekend, Hubby and I packed up the 'ol Winnebago and took our brood out to A.W.Way Park, located in the beautiful town of Petrolia in the Mattole River Valley. I must tell you that I am in love with this area and truly believe it's one of the best places on Earth to visit. It's located about a little over an hour out of Ferndale (depending on which way you go and how familiar you are with the road) and about 20 minutes away from the gorgeous Lost Coast and Pacific ocean. The road is a little sphincter puckering in portions and you may have to occasionally share your lane of travel with a mad heifer or crazy sheep - but it's entirely worth it.

My family decided to take a break from constant swimming and s'more making, to take a hike out out to Punta Gorda. This gorgeous lighthouse was deactivated back in 1951, but still stands today as a reminder of it's hard work keeping sailors and boats safe off of Windy Point.

Punta Gorda was was originally nicknamed the "Alcatraz" of lighthouses, due to it's rustic location and difficult surroundings. I would have to say I totally I agree with this analogy because it's not at all easy to get to. You can access the lighthouse by following the Lost Coast Trail or by accessing BLM property and taking the "short" cut. You need a four wheel drive and the rough gravel road takes you over the tops of windy ridges and through some very beautiful, yet terrifyingly steep scenery. Can you tell I'm just a tad bit of an Acrophobiac? To access either way, you'll need to turn onto Lighthouse Road, just outside of Petrolia.

Here is the "short cut" down to the beach:

Taters kept stopping to admire the various plants and rocks strewn about the trail. I had to reminder her to keep moving so that I could keep my lunch down. Between the heights and bumpy road, my stomach was a tad bit unhappy.

As you can tell from the pics, it was very foggy that day, which is common for this location. The nice thing though, was that the wind was very minimal which is also a rarity for the Lost Coast. It made for a very comfortable hike.

Once you get to the beach, this is what you'll find:

People actually live in the above two cabins. From what I heard, they park at the top of the point and take the same trail we had traversed to access their home. I think I'd seriously consider a helicopter or some sort of Star Trek Transporter if I lived here. I couldn't handle that walk every day although you'd be guaranteed buns of steel after just a week or so.

Further along the beach, you'll find great tide pooling, seals, sea otters, and a plethora of cool rocks and shells. We made sure to keep our distance from the seals as many of them appeared to be angry or pregnant mommas, not too keen with us trekking through their home. We were super excited to see what appeared to be a baby sea otter scampering up the beach. It quickly hid itself under driftwood, and we kept walking to avoid ankle bites from momma.

Our buddies, Miss K and Miss M loved the tidepooling:

As you get farther down the beach, you'll want to hop up on the Lost Coast Trail so you can see this:

The lighthouse is in really good shape. The kids certainly loved exploring it and took turns climbing the ladder to the top in order to see the amazing views:

It's a tight fit at the top of the ladder and if you're not a size 5 or negative A cup, it's kind of a challenge to wedge yourself into the tiny opening. I'm not sure why I'm sharing this fact with you, other than Miss K and I had an interesting conversation with our hubbies about it. I know, TMI, Sandi, TMI.

After exploring the lighthouse and surrounding cement pads, we took a couple of family shots and made our way back:

Our buddies:

And us:

I didn't take any pics of us walking back because I was breathing so hard that I fogged up my lens and sunglasses. What was a rather quick jaunt down, was a long-ass walk back. I stopped numerous times to "check the children," even though they were way ahead of me. I gotta get my butt into better shape or seriously look into that Transporter.

What fun things are you doing this summer?

Posted by Mommazilla at 09:49 PM | Permalink | Comments (2)

Sorry guys, but this one is for the ladies...special thanks to my friend, Carolyn, for sharing it with me.

Words For Women To Live By...

1. Aspire to be Barbie - the bitch has everything.

2. If the shoe fits - buy them in every color.

3. Take life with a pinch of salt... A wedge of lime, and a shot of tequila.

4. In need of a support group? - Cocktail hour with the girls!

5. Go on the 30 day diet. (I'm on it and so far I've lost 15 days).

6. When life gets you down - just put on your big girl panties and deal with it.

7. Let your greatest fear be that there is no PMS and this is just your personality.

8. I know I'm in my own little world, but it's ok. They know me here.

9. Lead me not into temptation, I can find it myself.

10. Don't get your knickers in a knot; it solves nothing and makes you walk funny.

11. When life gives you lemons in 2009 - turn it into lemonade then mix it with vodka.

12. Remember where ever there is a good looking; sweet, single or married man there is some woman tired of his bullschat!

13. Keep your chin up, only the first 40 years of parenthood are the hardest.

14. If it has Tires or Testicles it's gonna give you trouble.

15. By the time a women realizes her mother was right, she has a daughter who thinks she's wrong.

'Good friends are like stars.........You don't always see them, but you know they are always there' 'Remember yesterday, dream about tomorrow, but live for today'. Now smile and send to any girl wasting time at work, suffering from a hangover, or just suffering from life , that might need a reason to smile!

Posted by Mommazilla at 08:17 AM | Permalink | Comments (3)

God bless America. Thank you to all those who serve or have served, and prayers to those who have protected us by making the ultimate sacrifice.

Posted by Mommazilla at 08:54 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

I'm so excited...tomorrow we're leaving for a three night, four day camping trip in God's country (Petrolia - in case you didn't know). We haven't been anywhere as a family for a long time, probably since last year's camping trip:

It's funny how difficult and time consuming planning for a camping trip can be; I've made two separate trips to Safeway this week alone, just for our "simple" camping trip. Unlike our more sophisticated friends, we've yet to make the jump to a trailer or camper and we stick to our two room tent and ten layers of padded flooring. The kids dig it and I actually don't mind it. It's amazing to take the "ceiling" off at night and look at the shooting stars - or maybe they're just passing satellites - but who really cares 'cuz they still look pretty nifty. Try doing that in your RV!

I'm actually having a little anxiety about this trip because it was my idea to go in the first place. I tend to be the one who stays at home on major holiday weekends but I knew with the upcoming events, this might be the only long weekend we'd have available for camping. I'm hoping things aren't too crazy and that our fellow campers can tolerate our redneck ways for a couple of days at least.

Hopefully, there will be no public displays of nudity like last year:

And certainly, no more debauchery with water balloons in the sports bra:

Or complete messes made of adorable faces:

Things might be gettin' a bit ugly (again) this year but it will be fun. What are your plans for the 4th? Are you crazy like us and braving the crowds? Or, do you prefer a quiet evening at home, blowing off your digits with family?

Posted by Mommazilla at 08:25 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)