What would you do if you found a German bunker in your backyard? Here's what one person did and it's absolutely fascinating. We recently found an old well on our property and had such a blast cleaning it out. Our "finds" included bottles, tires, and broken down farm equipment, but we were so impressed nonetheless. I can only imagine the amazing things this guy is discovering.
Thanks to Ashley's Closet for the original link.
The doctors still haven't figured out what's going on with my dad but I think he's doing better. He has this sense of peacefulness that was brought back by the assurance that he was cancer-free. It's so strange how a diagnosis of a terminal illness can put your life into one crazy frenzy - when in actuality, you should be slowing down and enjoying the little things.
He's becoming sort of a medical marvel in that his body is just not acting like it should. I told him that it's his claim to fame and if the doctors write anything about him, he should demand a few copies to autograph for his beloved fans. He just shakes his head when I poke fun at him. I think he's come to expect nothing less from me.
In case your wondering, yes - that is dirt and food on Gun-Gun's face. The kid prefers dirt baths to water and we oblige him by doing weekly peels of the dirt layers. It's a tried and true remedy for stinky little boys.
Can you smell that? It's the wafting odor of corndogs, popcorn, cotton candy, livestock, diesel, and a hint of vomit. Where in the world would you find this sort of delectable odor other than...dun, dun, duhhhhhhh.....the Redwood Acres Fair!
Fair time is a great way to spend some time with family, friends, and your favorite carnie person. It's also a great way to get rid of money - and fast. Here's what my paycheck is going towards:
Two Adults Admission: 2 X $10 = $20
Three Kids Admission: 3 X $5 = $15
Truck Pull Admission: 5 X $5 = $25
Two Carnival Ride Passes: $50
Food (5 corndogs - $3 a piece, 2 sodas and 3 waters - $2 a piece, 2 cotton candy - $3 a piece, 1 candy apple for Grandma D - $3): $34
Grand Total: $144 - for one fantabulous night!
Yes, I'm bitching and yes, I don't have to go, but to me, fair time is a tradition for my family and once we're there, we thoroughly enjoy ourselves. Plus, due to conflicting work schedules and life in general, it's really nice when we can all get together as a family and do something - even if it's sharing our time with 1,000 other fairgoers and a handful of toothless carnies.
Personally, my favorite thing at the fair is the food. Nothing tastes as good as a coupla corndogs from one of those brightly lit food trailers. I'm sure the sophisticated flavor comes from the 100 year old grease combined with a little grime from the person serving it (no - not all the food trailers are grimy - only about 99% of them), but whatever the case, it just tastes like summer.
I don't count calories during fair time because honestly, you're doing so much walking and people watching that you're actually burning calories so those little corndogs will actually benefit you. Add in an icy cold soda and the amount of energy it takes to heat your body back might find you loosing ounces off the scale. I know that Grandma D swears to have lost a pound and a half last year due to her consumption of two candy apples during fair week. The hard work required to break through that tough outer candy shell is phenomenonal - especially if the apple underneath is appropriately crispy. And don't forget, it's a fruit. Weight Watchers, eat your heart out.
While I do partake amongst the gourmet offerings of the fair, I do not participate in the carnival rides. I had a terrible experience with the Tilt 'O Whirl when I was 10 years old...corn dogs, cotton candy, five giggly friends, and an insanely spinning piece of metal guaranteed a vomit comet to be had by all. I learned two things that day; (1) why you shouldn't cuff your jeans if you anticipate throwing up and (2) a guaranteed way to lose the respect of your friends and innocent bystanders who saw you wretching at your finest.
One last thing I love to do at the fair is take a gander at the exhibits. I once saw a chicken lay an egg at the fair, and I was so impressed that I've now become a chicken connoisseur. I tend to stay away from the area of the fruits and dressed veggies (I have issues with Mr. Potato Head), but I do love me some livestock. The smell of manure and the exercise you get from dodging cow patties in the dairy barn, is all too inviting. But, my favorite livestock exhibit is the sheep. I once had a ewe (that's a female sheep) named Dorito because she loved Cool Ranch Doritos. Her live-in boyfriend (a ram - or a male sheep) was named Budweiser because of his fondness of water, hops and barley. Don't ask me how we discovered this...
Enough about me...What's your favorite fair time memory? Are you going to the fair? Most importantly, tell me about a fair experience (primarily food) that I need to try. And don't forget, Redwood Acres Fair...
Who'd a thunk it? A pregnancy pact between 17 high school girls at Gloucester High School (1,200 students) in Gloucester, Massachusetts. Evidently school officials became a little suspicious when numerous girls started showing up at the free clinic asking for pregnancy tests and then becoming upset when they found out they were not pregnant.
I read through a few online articles that said these girls had wanted to get pregnant and raise their children together. Many of them stated that by having a baby, they could finally have something that would love them unconditionally. I wonder if they'll feel that way at 3AM feedings or during their first bout of colic and gas? Sure, babies are adorable, but not when they're your screaming bundle of joy at the age of 15 or 16. Heck, I'm in my early 30's and sometimes I feel like I can't even handle it.
I understand that accidents sometimes happen and some teen parents do a wonderful job. I hardly think that these 17 teenagers will make parent of the year with the preconceived notions they have about parenthood. From what I read, the girls share a mutual excitement for the upcoming baby showers and attention they are receiving by being pregnant, but has anyone explained Postpartum Depression? Or, how about the wild changes and stretch marks their once svelte body will receive? It's just really sad and I'm afraid they'll have to learn life's lessons the hard way. I don't know about you, but I have a chastity belt on order from Amazon.com. I just hope Taterbug finds enough love at home to realize that a bouncing baby can't replace that.
On a side note, Jamie Lynn Spears gave birth to a baby girl Thursday morning.
I recently discovered a super easy and delicious cake recipe that is too good not to share. If you love any sort of buttery cake and fruit concoction, this recipe is for you. Don't let the recipe name fool you because it doesn't exactly sound too appetizing (especially if you're around children for any length of time):
Pineapple Dump Cake
1 can of crushed pineapple (16 or 20 oz.)
1 can of cherry pie filling (this stuff is expensive!)
2 cubes of butter (yes, use the real stuff - it tastes so much better)
1 box of yellow cake mix
** You can also add coconut and pecans. My family prefers "girl" cakes so no "nuts" for us :-) **
Grease a 9X13 inch pan and preheat your oven to 350 degrees. Dump in the can of crushed pineapple, including the juice, and spread it evenly over the base of the pan. Then, pour the cherry pie filling over the top of the pineapple, also spreading it around evenly over the pineapple. Next, sprinkle the yellow cake mix over the top of the fruit, making sure to crunch up any big lumps. I guess if you wanted to exert even more energy you could sift it. Then, you'd actually be losing weight by making this recipe. Finally, cut the two cubes of butter into chunks and spread them out evenly over the top of the cake mix. Resist the urge to mix and just pop this lovely concoction into the oven for one hour. After it's done baking, cool and cut into your selective pieces. Remember, this recipe has a great deal of fruit in it, so in theory, it's very healthy and full of vitamins. You should not have too much guilt eating a piece or two, or perhaps even three or four - again, we're talking about healthy fruit here, do not deprive your body of natural goodness.
Happy Father's Day to all the #1 dads out there!
I slept like crap last night and no, it wasn't just because I helped the Wine Fairy do her bidding, although I'm sure it was more than likely part of the problem. As I posted before, my dad had his second biopsy scheduled for today and the possibility of finally identifying his cancer was overwhelming. The anxiety and worry I felt kept me occupied and awake until the wee hours of the morning.
When I finally did get to sleep, the morning arrived far too soon and Hubby and Gun-Gun were yelling at me to "wakeded up, Momma!" I quickly showered and got dressed; keeping in mind what the potential outcomes of the appointment could be, based on an additional CT scan. If the tumors had grown then the biopsy would be conducted and the cancer hopefully identified; if nothing changed, then the biopsy would be cancelled and other ideas would be explored (such as a bad infection causing severe inflammation). I knew it was going to be the longest 20 minute ride of my life.
I called my mom on the way, and she informed me that they had gotten my dad in early for the scan - which I thought was practically a miracle since nothing had gone our way so far. When we finally arrived at the hospital, my mom found us in the waiting room. She looked like she had been crying and she told me that they were going ahead with the biopsy. I was expecting this but I still felt crushed. I had hoped and prayed that those damn tumors had somehow miraculously disappeared but hearing they hadn't was still such a letdown. I gave my mom a hug and a pat on the back, sweet talking her with the promise of cafeteria coffee and stale donuts. We partook amongst the coffee and had a nice family chat awaiting my dad's test.
My mom stumbled across my dad being wheeled out of the operating room, after a long one and a half hours. He looked great and was talkative with the nurse who was wheeling him back to recovery. We followed them back to the room and spoke briefly with the nurse who had been present during the procedure. She was extremely friendly and sympathetic to our plight. She summed the success of the procedure up in a sentence:
We tried as hard as we could to prove you had cancer, but we just couldn't do it today.
The doctor had skillfully guided needles into the largest of the tumors, shaped ironically like a dumb bell. He removed two sections and forwarded them to pathology who had then demanded several more, as they were only seeing fibrous tissue in the samples being sent up. A total of five samples were submitted and none of them came back as obviously being cancerous. The pathologist will continue to hack up and dissect the samples, looking for any clues as to their origin or potential for cancer.
To top it all off, the tumors had not grown and if anything had possibly shrunk down just a little. The biopsy had still been conducted because they were suspicious enough to warrant some digging.
I didn't know whether or not to laugh or cry. Last week, he'd been told he was in Stage 4 of a fast-moving cancer and we could seek treatment, but the outcome would be the same. This week, he's being told he might not even have cancer and that they'd more than likely watch him and re-scan in six months. Six months! He had been given some of his future back!
Dad tends to be the pessimist of the family and quickly reminded me to not get my hopes up because the pathologist might still find something lurking in the samples. Plus, we still don't know what he has and we can't quite completely dismiss the previously named elephant in the closet. Could his secret illness be worse than cancer? If it's an infection that's been simmering this long, what sort of damage has it done? The results today have led to so many more questions. Again, we'll have to hurry up and wait.
We're all living on a high right now and I'm allowing myself to enjoy it. I've explained to my dad that we've had nothing but six weeks of bad news; we deserve to have at last two days of positivity before the inevitable bout of more frustration hits. We will be floating on cotton candy clouds and admiring the gumdrops and butterflies floating by because we deserve a few days of happiness. My dad deserves this much.
It was refreshing to have both doctors and nurses that were friendly and accommodating to both my dad and our family. It has slowly renewed some of my faith in our medical system - at least in the area of the bedside manner.
...are definately the bees. I was so excited to see them on my still-flowering rhodies. They were a little camera shy and I really wasn't too interested in getting stung, so here's the best shot I could get:
This picture contains two of my most favorite men; my dad and brother. I caught them after they had spent a day together and were thoroughly enjoying each other's company. Things weren't always like this and it pretty much took puberty and maturity for my little brother to realize that our dad was a pretty cool guy to be around. The love was always there between the two; but it tooks years for the mutual respect and admiration to grow.
I'm really proud of the relationship these two now have. It took a long time for them to come together but sometimes that's the way life's journey is handed to us. You can't always take shortcuts but you do need to look for the right path to traverse. For my dad and brother, it was a path well worn prior by our family's dads and sons who knocked heads hardened by stubborness and the same sort of bullheadedness passed down through the generations.
Dad and I walked this same path but not with the same intensity provided through their father-son relationship. As a daughter, things were just different- almost easier for us - even though our personalities were so similar yet clashing at times. Nevertheless, I'd never take back a day - good or bad. I thank God everyday for the time we've had and the time we'll hopefully continue to have.
Don't waste your own precious time hashing over the small stuff; life's too short. Keep that in mind.
The biopsy went off without a hitch and Grandpa D is already home and recuperating. The doctor was able to easily find the tumors and take his part; now we wait. Hopefully, by next Wednesday, some of our questions will finally be answered. Many thanks for your continued well wishes and prayers.
But most importantly, happy birthday Dad! We love you Grandpa D!
First, you were a good BOY,
Then, you became a nice KID,
You were then a great GUY,
Later, you grew up to be a fine MAN,
Now, you're just an old FART !!
The biopsy is Friday. Please send well wishes and/or prayers!
...I watched almost 12 hours straight of "Jon & Kate + 8" over the past weekend. This show is about a young couple (the Gosselins') who have eight children - one set of twins and a set of sextuplets. It follows them around as they live through special events and day to day life. I thought have three children could sometimes feel as though you're going insane, but holy crap - eight freakin' kids? Six of them going through the terrible two's at once? I think I'd have a steady diet of valium and vodka.
The show was interesting but exhausting to watch. The mom, Kate, is a control freak with a major case of OCD, but she seems likeable enough. The dad, Jon,is kind of a happy-go-lucky "whateva's cleva" sort of guy, not my cup of tea. The kids are cute but my gawd, do they whine. Their whining is on a whole 'nother octave - like Mariah Carey squealing octave - it's seriously that obnoxious.
My theory is with that many kids, the whine factor is similar to the need for a fire whistle in small towns; the louder the siren the more apt that you'll get your firemen on scene (a.k.a. parents). It drove me nuts just watching it for the short time I did and I can't imagine living that life on a day to day basis.
To become exhausted yourself, visit here.
Yes, I do know that my geography might be off a bit, but the sunset offered the other night was absolutely gorgeous and some of the shots placed me right into Africa.
And last, but not least, did you know that clouds could look like this?
If you'd like to see more shots, click on any of the pictures. The sun was very kind this night.
As we go into this 2008 Memorial Day, please remember to say a special prayer, positive thought, or just give thanks to the millions of men and women who have sacrificed their lives for our country.
Thanks to the many heroes of our country; you are not forgotten.
Happy 50th birthday Aunt Becky!!! Yes, you heard it right, 50! Half a century she's graced us with her presence. Have one or 50 on us! By the way, hope you like your pic. I gave you a special "Mommazilla" makeover :-).
Big “Five-O”
You have made it, to the big “Five-O”,
Born and raised, many ages ago.
Tried to influence at least a million,
Mirror succeeded, only one civilian.
Now at fifty, you might need a cane,
Trade it for your aging brain.
Cannot decipher, without reading glasses,
All those discounted, subway passes.
Adult diapers, you must invest,
Extra layers we suggest.
So many candles, on that cake,
If you count, I won’t stay awake.
Don’t worry you’re not losing your mind,
If you forget, I’ll try to remind.
After fifty years; still immature,
Unfortunately, they don’t have a cure.
There's nothing better than sisterly love, especially when they're best friends and horseback riding buddies. Happy belated Mother's Day to my favorite mom and aunt. the dynamic sisterly duo.
My rhodies seemed to be late bloomers this year...but it was so worth the wait :-).
Ever wish you had a wishing well in your front yard? Well, we're lucky to have one. Whenever necessary, you can take a quick jaunt out to the 'ole well and wish away. Send me your wishes and I'll throw in some pennies for you :-).
I love lilacs. This time of year,when I go outside, my favorite purple beauty greets me with a wonderful fragrance and beautiful blooms. She's lived through a rambunctious weed-eating husband, a hungry goat, and is currently battling roosting chickens. I'm not sure what the other buttery bush is. It hangs precariously near the creek that runs through our property so I haven't been able to get a proper look at it. Can anyone tell me what it is? I initially thought it was a Snowball tree but the blooms just don't look the same.
My favorite apple tree proved very entertaining this morning. She gave me this shot:
And then some of her "ladies in waiting" provided this one:
I can't wait until October :-).
This might be old news, but I just heard that the government stimulus payments are being sent out earlier than originally planned. The payment sent date is based on the last two of your Social Security and some people have already received their payment through direct deposit. To check your date, go here. To use a calculator and see how much you'll be getting back, go here. From what I hear, be sure and have your tax returns handy and don't guestimate on the numbers because it can really throw your actual total off. Finally, if you have basic questions about whether or not you're even qualifying for this payment, go here.
Here's a picture I took when we stayed at the Whaleshead Resort, which is just outside of Brookings, Oregon. The resort offered these tunnels as your best access to the beach, as they ran directly under Hwy 101. At a little over 700 feet long and very dark, they were a fun adventure for us to experience as a family. We yelled many echoes through it and were creeped out but only just a little. We did have three manly men with us to serve as protectors...what else could we women-folk ask for?!
Why is it that Diego has GPS and Dora only has a map? Doesn't seem quite fair now, does it?
Have you ever seen someone do something on the _____ (insert appropriate roadway here) that was so utterly stupid you practically begged to have a cop around so they'd at least get caught? And then after you mumbled the profanities under your breath, complaining that there's never a cop around, the jerk turns off the ______ (insert appropriate roadway here) and is forever lost to the God of Karma. It’s enough to make you want to scream – and in fact I have. I have berated and cussed out a number of idiot drivers, even though they have no clue they have fell victim to my verbal tongue lashing. I felt better after the fact, and the silent voodoo curse I placed upon their sorry butt(s) was surely to provide me with appropriate payback.
However, my faith in humanity and lost cops for that matter, was recently restored due to the actions of an awesome Humboldt County Sheriff’s Department deputy.
My kiddos and I were travelling southbound on HWY 101, at the slow and steady pace of 67 miles per hour. The 'ole Granada really starts to shimmy and shake above this tremendous speed so I decided to take it a bit easy rather than risk losing an engine or tire on the highway. As we approached the Ferndale exit, I suddenly realized that I had a rather large tick on my bumper in the shape of gray Porsche. As the idiot driver rode my tail (in the slow lane for that matter), he finally passed me and then four or five more Porsches (all with Washington plates and the same sort of dark color) also flew by me, followed by a handful of tricked out, dark colored Hondas.
As I watched the yuppy patrol zoom past me, I watched them speed and drive absolutely recklessly down the highway. They were weaving in and out of the lanes of traffic, around each other and the cars that happened to get in their path(s) were forced to move over to oblige them. I started to mumble about the freakin’ cops when all of a sudden, a knight in a white Ford Expedition pulled out directly in front of the oncoming path of the racers. It was a Humboldt County Sheriff’s Department deputy. The deputy swerved in the roadway and made his way through both lanes of travel, slowing down the speeding cars. The deputy then pulled to the side of the road, got out, and flagged each and every one of those cars down. It was AMAZING!
By this time, I had to take my exit but I was so happy those racing jackasses were getting the attention they deserved. My kids were cheering and couldn’t wait to get home and tell Hubby about the adventure they had just witnessed. I have no clue if the buttheads even got a ticket or whether or not they all pulled over, but the joy of seeing justice served, was enough satisfaction and excitement for us. The effort that this deputy made to make the highway safer is much appreciated and I’d like to say a big THANKS!
People have been acting really strange lately...Lot's of heightened emotions, bizarre moodswings, and an overall sense of nuttiness. But then I realized, it's a full moon!
Happy summertime!
I'm seriously an advocate for mandatory intelligence and gene testing (looking for the "moron" gene) when it comes to people getting pregnant and having children. You have to have a license to drive a car but there is nothing holding idiots and jackasses back from having children. I think you'll see why I believe in mandatory sterilization for some people after you read this article.
Your freakin' kiddin' me, right? Please tell me this is a joke 'cuz I feel like knockin' these egg and sperm donors about the head until some common sense springs about - not that that will ever happen but a girl can wish.
Thankfully, Hubby and I both agreed that our three children would be raised Redneck. We've found that it's much easier to conceal the shotguns and moonshine in a good pair of overalls rather than baggy drawers and baseball caps. Sure, we do have some similarities - we use bandannas (ok - just for snotrags) and also wear flannel (primarily 'cuz it's cold), but we've found the Redneck gang branch to be much more liberal when it comes to hand signs and weapon requirements. We couldn't get all our members to memorize past the one finger solute nor give up their hunting rifles for automatic weapons. Oh well, you get what you get and you don't throw a fit ;-).
This picture is circulating around the Internet and I thought I'd do my part to spread needless rumors. What do you see in his glasses? The rumor going around is that it's the image of a naked lady, hence the big, toothy smile he's sportin'. So take a look, and let me know if you see it. I'm on the fence.
Have you ever seen the movie, "Heathers"? It was one of my favorite movies growing up, back in the late '80s. The movie is centralized around a highschool student named Veronica. Veronica joins the popular crowd (the cheerleaders, jocks, etc.), but soon becomes tired of the evil ways of the "Heathers" (the name of the other girls in the clique). Veronica then meets an outsider to the group and they systematically murder the "Heathers" and the "Jocks," making the scenes look like teenage suicide. Charming.
Unless you've seen this movie, you're probably thinking, what the Hell? What a terrible movie! Murder - the horror! Teenage suicide - tragic! Cheerleaders and jocks - our kings and queens victimized - terrible! Actually, the movie's message is one simple fact - just be yourself. I like that and that's what I tell my own children, especially Taterbug who regularly attends *gasp* public school.
You might think comparing teenage prom queens to grammar school girlies is a stretch but in reality, their actions and behaviors are quite similiar and disturbing. Before my kids were ever even old enough to attend school, I worried about the cliques, how'd they fit in, and how many heads would have to roll if someone picked on my child and made them cry. I didn't want a populoid but I also didn't want the geeky smelly kid. Something in the middle would fit me fine.
Then along came school and the drama it brought. Today's school certainly no longer resembles the happy memories you'd find in "Little House on the Prairie." I think it's reached the level of grammar school 90210 - especially if you have a daughter. Little Taterbug is unfortunately realizing this and has encountered her own set of "Heathers." Rather than throwing down some little eight year old brats, I'll just say that I don't like it and I struggle to keep my words in check when telling Taterbug how to handle their nasty comments or looks. I know that my reply to their snarkiness would end up having Taterbug make the long trip to the Principal's Office.
I guess there should be some sort of point to this blog, and there is. Don't let your daughter become a "Heather." Don't enable her with the tools to go to school and be a snooty little twit who relishes in the fact that she can make other people feel insecure or even worse, bad about themselves. Thankfully, I have a very strongwilled daughter who's confident and normally very secure about her quirks. An angel she isn't, but at least she's not a follower or a "Heather." And, if I ever see a "Heather" side emerging from her little body, I'll remind her that, "The extreme always seem to make an impression (quote from the movie), " and then I'll knock her about the head to change any negative 'tudes. Oh yeah, I'll also tell her that murdering "Heathers" - or anyone for that fact - is bad. Don't worry, she won't see the movie to get any ideas ;o).
Here's a clip from the movie, just in case I peaked your curiosity:
Woohoo! I've finally hit my 100th post! Thanks for reading and I promise to continue making fun of myself and family for the benefit of all to see.
Jack and Jill say "thanks" as well.
World's Best Father-in-Law and Duncan the dog.
I admit it. I have a strange infatuation with the National Enquirer. I've had this interest since I was a little girl, sneaking peeks at my dad's copy, tucked ever so neatly next to the stinky toilet. I'd read it cover to cover, learning the latest gossip and seeing who truly was the worst dressed celeb. I can't tell you how many hours I ended up spending in the bathroom just to read this rag, but darn it, I was the most worldly eight year old one could ever meet.
I'm proud (*coughs*) to announce that dear, sweet, little 'ole Taterbug has developed my same interest in reading material and I recently caught her exhibiting the same sort of bathroom behavior. The following is a conversation we had over the recent issue:
Taterbug: Hey Mom! Did you know that Jamie Lynn Spears is having a shotgun wedding?
Mommazilla: No, Tater, I hadn't heard that. Do you even know what a shotgun wedding is?
Taterbug: Sure, Mom. It's a wedding that only redneck people with lots of guns go to.
Mommazilla: Hmm, that's interesting. At this point, I realize that maybe I shouldn't be indulging her reading fantasies.
Taterbug: And you know what else, Mom? She's gonna have KFC cater it and she's gonna buy her wedding ring at Walmart. I betcha she only spends ten bucks on her dress and buys it at K-Mart. Can you believe it? They even want to have a squirrel and possum barbeque!She's rolling her eyes now and making exaggerated movements with her hands, emphasizing her disgust.
Mommazilla: Well, Tater, that's pretty interesting but - she interrupts me to finish her point.
Taterbug: Yah know, Mom, the worst part is that they're only gettin' married 'cuz she screwed up and got pregnant. She's an idiot. I really like Zoey 101 but I don't like her - so don't worry. I don't even like boys yet. I find them pretty gross, actually. C-dub tries to interject his protest, but I give him the "look" in order to support Taterbug's anti-boy tirade.
I sat there for a moment and just listed to her process the Jamie Lynn Spears pregnancy. Thankfully, she doesn't really seem to have interest in knowing how it happened but she is clearly disgusted by the outcome. So thank you Jamie Lynn Spears. Thanks for making my daughter never want to touch a boy (seriously - a BIG thanks for that one) and she thinks you're Queen of the trailer park to top it off. Good for you. Keep making' Louisiana proud and showing that your big sister really isn't that strange.
Speaking of Jamie Lynn Spears, here's a recent video of her. Quite entertaining and real.
Prior to the rain, I was able to sneak the family out to our one acre redwood forest. Because of the impending rain, it was very pleasant to be outside - and I heard no griping from the kidlets about being forced "into the woods."
Here's what we found:
A handsome man and a cute little monster:
A scary bush that didn't look too scary:
A pretty flower:
Some scary little critters:
And some tired mutts:
It was a nice day had by all. Thanks Mother Nature for the great show :o).
I recently heard about several British scientists who are attempting to create a hybrid human-cow embryo. Recent updates to this story have stated they were able to do so successfully and the little critter cell actually lived for three days. Now, I am no scientist nor do I profess to be a fan of biological processes, but I was intrigued. I needed to learn more about this but in a Barney-level sort of way. So I went here and got the basics.
Again, I am not Dr. Mommazilla so don't expect to find the scientific process fully explained here but in essence, the scientists are in the ultimate search for stem cells. Stem cells are great in that they can practically become any kind of cell you need them to be - which can obviously be a lifesaver in many types of illnesses or diseases. Scientists have to walk a very thin line in this area because stem cells have typically been derived from human embryos and during the process the embryos can be destroyed.
To get around this ethical dilemma (which I won't even began to comment on or tackle - way above my line of expertise or understanding) they are using a cow egg and human cells to try and create new stem cells. The cow nucleus is eventually sucked out with a mini Dyson and then replaced with human cells (cloning's involved but way too techincal for me to comprehend). It's much easier to get eggs out of 'ole Bessie than it is out of a human gal - and I would imagine a lot cheaper, too. Many people have their own thoughts on this and some people have ethical concerns over the fact that even though you're not destroying human life, you're possibly degrading it.
I dunno what to think. It freaks me out a bit that we're playing so much with nature but in the same breath, I have relatives with cancer who potentially could live much longer with successful research. At one point do we say we've taken it too far? I know that's way too much of an ethical dilemma for me to tackle and it's one that's been argued millions of times by people much smarter than 'ole Mommazilla. But, I'd be willing to bet there is many more people like me, who don't really understand what's going on and fear the unknown that may be created during these experiments. We seriously need Barney, Spongebob, or even Barbie to do a series on stem cell research; then the masses would listen.
This blog has left me feeling as thought I'm in way over my head in the area of science. But, I wanted to address it because this area really interests me. Plus, I had my own suggestions as to other animals they should consider besides the bovine factor - in the case that they ever accidently raise some sort of hybrid animal. I even have photographic evidence to support my stance...
Cowman
Alas, they've chosen to use an egg from a cow. Don't scientists know that many women feel as though their part cow during sometime or another in their lives? From bloating to lactating fortitude, I think most women agree that a bovine-human connection would be overdoing it on the ladies.
Fishman
Why not fish cell? Certainly, the ability to swim underwater and then walk the land, could be a huge bonus. I'm sure the smell would be horrendous and people would have to buy stock in skin moisturizers due to dry scale issues, but heck, you take your good with your bad.
Pigman
How about a little piggy with your human? Communal mud baths, troughs, and overall lack of hygiene would be rampant but at least we'd all be a little more "green" since most trash would be consumed and we'd provide our own manure for compost. This cellular combination would certainly be the most stinky of the bunch.
Now, here are two suggestions that I'm strongly opposed to and you'll see why.
Catman
Obviously, cats are known for being self-absorbed and not giving a damn to those around them. Scientists made this unsuccessful combination only to find that the creatures spent far too much on plastic surgery and cans of albacore tuna. They were also often arrested for indecent exposure due to their incessent need for public bathing (think - tongue and hand-paw).
Dogman
Scientists have already created this combination, with little success. Perceived to be the most loyal and loving of the bunch, this breed has been by far the least impressive. They are unable to create appropriate styling for their families - dabbling and taking a strong liking to leather. They've been a cantankerous bunch exhibiting trouble getting along with other "dawgs," and ongoing barking they can't seem to stop when they should.
I've obviously taken a very serious subject and had some fun with it. Do you have any thoughts? Any other animal combos you'd suggest ;o) ? What do YOU think?
This is one of those articles that you make you go:
1. The person was obviously drunk or high.
2. The person has some mental health issues.
3. The person really loves Australia and is willing to take one from Team Wombat.
4. The person is a combination of the previous three. This is where my vote would be.
This guy from New Zealand evidently decided to tie one on and then phone his local law enforcement to let them know he was being "raped" by a Wombat. He then called back a little later (don't know where the cops were at and why they weren't immediately investigating) to update them on his welfare saying, "Apart from speaking Australian now, I'm pretty alright, you know." Good. I'm sure they were really concerned but relieved to know that he now had an Austrailian accent due to his illicit tryst.
So, if this is a new trend, what sort of conclusions can we draw?
1. Hang out with an aggressive Chupacabra in order to perfect your South American accent?
2. Court Pepe La Peu in order to work on your French accent?
3. Insert your favorite animal and country
You've gotta love stupid people. A guy like this is seriously job security not only for law enforcement but mental health professionals as well. Thanks for the chuckle, mate.
I was just helping that guy out with a little language of love lesson!
The other night, Hubby and I decided to support our local Safe and Sober Grad Night by participating in a charity Texas Hold'em tournament at the local casino. No, I’m not a poker player nor have I ever pretended to be. I was lucky once – at my first virginal Texas Hold’em game – but further games have proved to me that I suck at anything requiring a good bluffing face or the ability to understand what my cards meant. I’d smile when my hand was dismal and frown when the cards were in my favor; it was just ugly and I lost Gun-Gun’s diaper money on several occasions. However, I do play a mean game of penny slots and that’s where I decided to park my arse while Hubby and his buddy, Big B, tried to lose their respective Redneck Ranches at the poker tables.
On the way to the casino, I listened to Hubby and Big B compare notes on their poker playing abilities and it was pretty much decided that their playing would be brief; but entertaining to say the least. When we got to the casino, we parted ways by the bar and I wished them both luck. Hubby chuckled and told me he’d see me in about 15 minutes. Did I mention that I’m married to a pro? And his buddy, Big B, well, he's no pro either, but he does enjoy a good conversation -whether or not the other person thinks so as well.
Now, I’ve blogged about my experience at the casino before but I’ll repeat myself again; the casino is not a fun place to be sober in. It’s freakin’ scary and it smells weird. It’s strange how alcohol can deaden the senses and make an otherwise scary place more palatable to the weak. Since I was the sober driver (I think this makes two in a row which isn’t entirely fair but excellent on the Karma scale), I sipped my Sprite as I watched Hubby and Big B begin swigging Captain and Coke. Hubby was deep in concentration while Big B chattered his way through the hand, all the while pounding back liquid courage.
About an hour into the process, I had already burned through $60 and made my donation to the Native American population. I seemed to also be attracting nasty old men with minimal amounts of dental experience and a never ending supply of cigarettes. I had several choose to pull up a chair and sit next to me while I held my breath and tried to act invisible. When this didn't work, I fake phoned a friend and talked about my kids and their recent bouts with green boogers and projectile vomiting. This seemed to do the trick and they never tried to establish a conversation with me. Heck, I may have missed out on a Sugar Daddy or at least potential prison pen pal, but oh well, I'm not sure that I could ever get over the missing hygiene aspect.
After contemplating my alternatives, going home or staying and loitering by my toothless wonder men breathing in large quantities of carcinogens, I chose to make the drive back home. I left a quick text for Hubby, and took off, anticipating that he and Big B would call for a ride in a few minutes as their luck was more than likely going to wear off in the tournament, sooner rather than later.
A few hours later, Uncle R saved the day and picked up Hubby so I wouldn’t have to venture out in my PJ’s and slippers. When Hubby arrived home, I noticed that his partner in crime, Big B, was nowhere to be seen and initially, I was a little concerned. Big B has a reputation for being a talker and over bull schatter. People enjoy hearing Big B talk – almost as much as he enjoys hearing himself. Hubby, in his semi-drunken stupor, told me that he was star struck at the way Big B was motivating the crowd and making new friends. His uncanny ability to get up from the poker table in order to use the facilities and then wander around the casino, chatting it up with friends and then starting up new card games at a different table, was stupendous. Hubby expressed amazement at Big B’s perceived close relationship with several of the dealers whom Big B tried to shame numerous times for giving him losing hands. And, Big B impressed my sweet little hubby by not being afraid to call out obvious gambling tips to random people he then named, “Stretch.” Big B was lavishing in the limelight and was relishing all of the attention he was bringing onto himself. He was a shining star that night and no one could dim his light.
*Sigh.* After hearing this tale of Big B’s success at the casino I was quietly thankful that Hubby had come home early. The two of them together could have been a dangerous duo yet very amusing. I then tucked Hubby into bed and went to sleep.
The next day, Hubby received a phone call from Big B. After Hubby had left, Big B had found an entertaining chap from Texas and they had spent the night playing table games. Big B had given the Texan $15 in order for him to keep playing. The sad part is that the Texan turned the $15 into several hundred dollars and never bothered to show Big B any love by giving him some greenbacks. Big B eventually found a ride and made it home around 4:30 AM. Upon hearing this, Hubby looked at me and said, “I just can’t hang like that anymore!” Finally, his 35 years were catching up to him and he was realizing his limitations. I was proud of him for understanding that’s not how us “grown-ups” roll. Home by 10:00 PM and in bed by 11:00 PM, makes happy parents and hard workers.
Big B is now the four thirty man, and Hubby is more than happy to let him have this title.
After much preparation and planning, I managed to get the monsters into two Easter egg hunts; one occuring in the morning and one in the afternoon. After boycotting my local one (and yes - they did miss me) we decided to hit two nearby towns. After physically and mentally preparing my older two, and successfully dumping hubby and the youngest hellion at a relative's house, I drove them out to the morning hunt.
Admittedly, it was a little more than nerve wracking, showing up at an event that we were not familiar with nor had ever attended. The people there were friendly enough but I couldn't help but notice that the *obviously* over 35ish group of ladies definately loved their 16 year old low slung rhinestone jeans with matching poofy faux fur lined parkas and equally fabulous hair. While the Marlboro men of the group stuck together in their cowboy hats and Wranglers with the manly thoughts of, "we just watch the kids and womenfolk do their thang" groups. I told my kids just to "blend." No need for long-term relationships - we just wanted their golden eggs and candy.
The kids did well enough and actually managed to see a couple of friends they knew from school. They walked away with a basketful of candy and only a little whining from C-dub when he didn't win the Hotwheels Easter basket. And Mommazilla enjoyed people watching and feeling awkwardly out of place. After waiting for the slurry of F-350's and BMW's to exit the parking lot, I drove the kids home with the simple instructions to eat a h