Garbage Pail Kids, so very gross. I remember saving my money and my mom taking Uncle R and I down to the store so we could buy a couple of packs each week. For about fifty cents, you got several cards and a stick of super hard gum - and we freakin' loved them. Uncle R decorated his whole dresser set with the stickers and it cracks me up to see that old thing (still covered with stickers) now living in my dad's shop.

Another great product courtesy of the 80's.

When my Grandma was alive, every year Dad would take care of her fruit orchard, pruning the trees and giving her huge yard a summer makeover. In the process, he'd create a large pile of drying brush that we'd later turn into a huge bonfire on a Sunday morning. As my brother and I got older, we were allowed to be the bonfire "babysitters." This involved us getting short little willow twigs that we'd light and pretend to smoke when Mom and Dad weren't looking. Many a slug and snail were also cooked on these little twigs, much to the dismay our parents who weren't particuarly fond of crispy critters lying around the outskirts of the pile.

When the Sunday morning arrived and it was time to burn up our pile, my brother and I were ready. Unfortunately, the pile wasn't completely dry and Dad was having some trouble getting it started.

I remember Grandma mentioning that she had been cleaning out the attic and had some items we could use to get the fire going. Dad followed Grandma into the house and came back out carrying a large cardboard box. He growled at my brother and I to leave so that he could get the fire going. We protested, reminding him that we were professional fire starters and slug chefs. Our griping just bought us time in the old Chevy while he, my mom, and Grandma worked hard to get the fire lit.

We could see Dad slowly picking up what appeared to be magazines out of the cardboard box. He'd look briefly at each magazine and then toss it into the growing fire. I could have sworn that I sensed hesitation as he threw each magazine in, but I had no clue why he looked sort of sad as the flames ravaged the magazines.

A short time later, after the cardboard box was empty and the fire was raging, we were released from the captivity of the old Chevy and allowed to take our place back by the fire. My brother, who enjoyed the fire much more than I did, began poking the embers with his willow twig. As he did, large pieces of ash began to fly up exposing us to what had been printed on the magazines Dad had thrown in; vintage Playboy.

We saw boobies, butts, and various other body parts, drifting about in the air. My horndog brother would try and blow out the larger pieces of ash so that he could get a better glimpse of the forbidden fruit. Dad eventually took notice of my brother's excitement over the "fire" and had some quick words about leaving the fire alone to do its business. I think Mom just glared through the process and Grandma grinned, happy that she wasn't having to do any explaining.

On a side note, we did get the entire brushpile burned down that day. My poor Dad on the other hand, probably lost a fortune (and I'm sure several fond memories) in those vintage Playboys.

I'm not the only one in my family who loves what rain brings; so do my boys. Mud boggin' at it's finest, all in the comfort of our front yard.

As a little kid, I also loved the huge mud puddle that would form in front of our house every year. My brother and I (normally hacking with our seasonal case of bronchitis) would make mud angels in the street and see how far we could get with our bikes.

An even more special treat was during high water times when our grandma's ranch in Ferndale would flood. To an adult, this is a very tragic and scary thing, with a lot of hardwork to follow. To a kid, it's a great way to find awesome mud and get away with playing mud hockey on your grandma's hardwood floor. My brother and I would ride our BMX bikes all over the backroads of Ferndale, driving through foot deep water exposing ourself to the yuckiness of old flood water. Aww, those were the days. I wouldn't even think to allow my kiddos to do the same thing nowadays, but in the 80's life seemed to be a bit more simple, if not cleaner.

Do you like the rain? Or am I alone on this?

I'm so excited...only nine more days and I'll be in the glitz and quasi-glamor of Las Vegas, watching my favorite childhood band shake their moneymakers; NKOTB. For those of you out of the know, that's New Kids on the Block: Adorable Joey, sexy Donnie, suave Jordan, rugged Danny, and the romantic Jonathan. I'm about ready to swoon just thinking about the newly divorced Donnie. He's always been my favorite and I'm planning on fighting Aunt Dina for his affections. * Sigh *

While I'm super stoked (I'm practicing my late 80's early 90's jargon) about the concert, I think I'm the most excited because this is the first girlfriend weekend I've had in over eight years. Hubby and I have escaped a handful of times but for the most part, wherever we go, the kids go and wherever I go, Hubby goes. Yeah, it can be such a pain in the butt to travel with kids but it's entirely worth it when we all end up having a good time.

I do have the mommy guilt settling in knowing that I'm going to be having a lot of fun while the little heathens are stuck at the house with Hubby. I'm telling myself over and over again that I deserve a break once in a while, but I still feel a teency weency guilty. Not enough to make me even considering staying home but it's there, simmering a bit. I think once the first adult beverage settles in, this guilt will be a thing of the past or at least tolerable.

An added bonus to this trip was that I just got to go shopping for some clothes other than mom jeans and muffin tops. It was strange buying lady like clothes that I didn't anticipate would be potentially puked or pooped on. Hubby liked the clothes and Taters asked to borrow them. Great, it's starting already.

Hubby asked me if I bought some sexy lacy panties to throw at NKOTB but I quickly came to the realization that I'm getting old when I replied, "Are you kidding me? Do you know how much I pay for good panties?" Plus, I'd hate to throw something that someone might mistake for a skinned out cheetah. It sucks gettin' old and a little fatter than my fourteen year old former self.

My girlfriends and I are still looking for something to do on Friday night in Vegas. Do you know of any good shows? Recommendations for the best slots? I'm all ears if you can throw me some suggestions.

It clearly claimed this woman.

Even caused her to chase her neighborhood kids around and pee on her neighbor's front porch. And yes, she was wearing the costume the entire time. Udderly classic.

Thanks Gunny, now stay out of it!

October is National Breast Cancer Awareness Month. Do yourself a favor and squeeze your bewbies. Early detection of breast cancer can save your life.

Just in case you need assistance with the exam:

While our property is plentiful of downed trees and firewood, it's not so giving with the deer population. Sure, we have a lot of deer roaming around, but unfortunately, the ones that like to be seen are of the feminine nature. It's not uncommon for our family to go years without shooting a nice buck or even seeing prospects for future hunting seasons. But like I've said before, hunting trips aren't just about the hunting.

However, Hubby broke the cycle this weekend by bagging this big boy:

Did you count those points? Yep, it's a four by four.

I'm not a venison eater but my family is. They all enjoy a good barbecued piece of backstrap and a well seasoned batch of jerky. This big guy will be feeding at least three families and I thank him for it. I also thank him for the ego boost and testosterone injection he gave to my Hubby who hasn't bagged a buck in several years.

I had never heard of such a thing until my dad showed me that yes, you can buy pancakes in a can. And guess what? They actually taste really good. I was pleasantly surprised the first time I made them because the pancakes were quite fluffy and most importantly, passed the kid's taste test.

It advertises that you get about 2 1/2 cups of batter in each can and I was able to get quite a few silver dollar sized pancakes before my can went empty. Costco is currently selling a three pack of these for just under $10. No, not the cheapest (at about $3.50 a can) but the neat packaging and ease of use make up for the cost. Enjoy!