OH cussity cuss cuss cuss

I think I should rename this blog "The Bitch and Moan Spot" or something along those lines...Maybe a tribute to the Allman Brothers "The Whining Post"? It seems like that's all I really do on here anyway.

I think the IT IDGITS at work are onto me. (I've been blogging from work when my spreadsheets start congealing and my eyeballs are ready to roll down my face.)

LAST week, all out of the blue, blogger.com was mysteriously disconnected. It's STILL disconnected. I don't get a "blocked" message but an "Internet Connection Lost" message instead. Which I find more than a little suspicious since there are almost always several internet tabs open on my screen but all the OTHER ones are still "connected"...Hmmm...

So...no I didn't disappear my loyal followers (all 3 of you). I've been bamboozled and sabotaged by the rats who work in my basement. I am now posting from home and trust me, it's going to get flaky...

SPEAKING OF RATS!!! We've had a mouse in our house for the past couple weeks. My daughter first noticed him one morning when she was getting out of the shower. She panicked when she saw a little mouse butt and little mouse tail slipping underneath the bathroom door. You'd have thought an axe murderer was traipsing up and down our halls from the way she was carrying on. (Tell me - what is there REALLY to interest a mouse in a bathroom??)But I digress.



I've bought traps. Different kinds of traps. First off, let me tell you, those round spring loaded D-Con traps do NOT work. Not for smart mice. I put them out where there were 'signs of activity' - in otherwords, little micey presents. But instead of actually CATCHING the mouse, all I really did was share our lovely peanut butter and cheese with our newest house guest.

SO, a couple days ago, I bought the traditional traps AND poison. (Poison is the last resort for me because mice never fail to crawl off and die someplace where they can STINK but I can't get to them - ugh!) I hadn't gotten around to having the Hubs set them until last night. I don't do that; he does.

What prompted setting them last night I hear you query? Finding 'presents' on my STOVETOP!!! 'Presents' which weren't there yesterday when I left for work!!! AND, finding his cozy little house in the drawer where I keep my kitchen towels and hot mitts!!! NASTY NASTY NASTY!!! I am ticked. The Hubs sets traps on the counter top, in the drawer(remember not to reach in there for a while) and under the sink.

I check all the traps this morning and woohoo!!

Sing with me now! (to the tune of the Munchkinland song)

Ding Dong the Mouse is Dead!
Which old mouse?
The Little Gray Mouse!

Ding Dong the Little Gray Mouse is Dead!
He died in the kitchen drawer!
Snapped his neck!
His little gray neck!

Ding Dong the Little Gray Mouse is Dead!

I hope you laughed as much as my husband did when I surprised him with it in the shower this morning...

SO, the morning started off good anyway...

Thanks for perservering!

Stop Arguing With Me!!!

Ever have one of those days (or several of them) where everything seems to argue with you? Your closet argues with you, your hairdryer is cantankerous, The Boy gets up before you leave the house EVEN THOUGH he's out of school today and could've slept until whenever, the Hubs is "indisposed" when you are leaving for work so no g'bye smooches can be had, the convenience store has a zillion people in line and they're all very chatty with the clerk, the traffic lights see you coming and just can't wait to turn red, your computer has to think about everything you want to do before it decides to let you click the next button...I could go on but I'll take a minute to breathe.

What I really want to do is just run away. Even if it's just for a day or so!

Oh who am I kidding? I want to run away and never come back!

(And now the guilt sets in...)

If you're a mom, you know the guilt I'm talking about. If you're not - take my advice - don't.

Somedays, all I really want to be is a missing person. (Saw that on a bumper sticker once...thought it was really good and couldn't wait to use it...) Or I want to crawl out of my skin like that big bug in Men in Black.

Today is one of those days.

I'm looking forward to tomorrow. Wait. No I'm not...

Fire Drill!!!

Remember that rain I was so enthused about? Well it just got even better!!

Someone at the Safety Switch in my building decided now would be a primo time to have a FIRE DRILL!! What kind of idiocy does that?!

So, the god forsaken buzzers start clanging and our new company president (her first fire drill here) bolts out of the office telling everyone to Come on! Let's go! Naturally, I have to save everything I'm working on (because I have a deadline in 3 days and I REALLY don't want to lose everything I've done this morning) , grab my crappy little umbrella (because of course, my BIG NICE one is in the trunk of my car) and I leave the building - scowling all the while.

Only to find out that while I took the back stairs (aka the quickest route to the meeting up spot for everyone in the building) our Prez took the front stairs and is now looking for me! And even better, I don't have her number programmed in my phone so I can't even call her to let her know she can call off the search and rescue!!

Aaaargh!!! What ELSE is going to screw up today?

CUSS, CUSS, CUSS and GROWL!!!

Quack Quacker Quack Quacken

**kerfluffle!**

**snort!**

**brrraaakkk!**

**pffftttt!**

The sounds of me sprouting feathers, coughing up feathers, growing webs between my fingers and toes... Of me becoming a duck.

I guess it was just too much to hope for. Too much to ask. Ungrateful me for hoping for more than 4 days WITHOUT rain in my little corner of North Alabama.

People complained LAST summer and preceeding years because we weren't getting enough rain. The "DROUGHT" was all we heard about when the nightly news was on. Well, I hope all those people are happy.

Now I wonder if we're all starting to feel just a little like the people who DIDN'T make it onto the Ark.

Not that I really know what gopher wood is but I think I'm going to start checking into it's availability and who's been buying it most recently.

And then I'm going to get on THAT guy's good side.

Feeling My Redneck This Mornin'

Football. I love it. I'm not a rabid, crazy person over it but I really do love football. My son plays youth football in the local league and he is a Defense Genius. And no. I'm not just being the proud, braggy Mama on this one. Every Saturday morning, not only do I get to hear his name called over the PA system at the stadium a squillion times

"Blah taken down by #90 Deacon Frost!!" or

"Hauled down at the 5 by #90 Deacon Frost!!" or

"SACKED by #90 Deacon Frost for the Eagles!!",

but I also get to hear the OTHER TEAM's coaches hollering

"Where's that kid coming from?!

Somebody BLOCK him for crying out loud!

SOMEBODY TAKE #90 OUT!!!"

Makes a mother proud. Makes me want to get up and knock somebody down. I mean GRRR!!!! There's just not much that can compare to seeing your kid sack a QB in the backfield and continue driving him back 5, 10, 15 yards. Or watching an offense completely re-set just to avoid your son. It's just beautiful. Admittedly, he's only 9 but man alive the kid can play! The best though is watching him walk off the field, with his head held high, proud of the game HE played, knowing that even though the team lost miserably (which they usually do - but I'll hold my tongue on THAT) he knows HE played well and has nothing to be ashamed of. And that's a sign of a true athlete and shows the potential for bigger and better things to come.

(By the way...he also wrestles. Get ready to hear a LOT about that. Oh and Roll Tide. Hehehe and his name isn't really Deacon Frost...jeesh)

Which. Cracks. Me. Up.

Sooo....holey moleys are now gone. Excised and cauterized by an amazingly sweet dermatologist who is also amazingly modest. Which. Cracks. Me. Up.

Here's the deal. When I go in for a visit... His nurses (each and every one dressed in white from head to toe) all speak in very hush hush tones and soft manners. They all seem startled by my sideways humor and blush easily. Which. Cracks. Me. Up. And which makes me try to be even more startling...

They always take me to a chilly exam room which seems like a hold over from a Norman Rockwell painting, ask me to remove the pieces of clothing which cover the suspicious spots and then have me lie down on the exam table. (This next bit absolutely tickles me to death.) The nurse very sweetly covers my semi-nakedness in one of those god-awful paper sheets and then tears tiny little holes so the doctor can see them without actually seeing me!! How funny is that?! They even tape the edges of the little holes to me so the sheet won't accidentally move and give him a glimpse of something he's not supposed to see! Hahahahaaa!!

Then I lie there all by myself, in the cold, covered in paper and wait. OK, I generally doze while I'm waiting which makes the waiting seem not quite so bad but nonetheless... A timid little knock on the door and in slips a skinny man with those jewelers' goggles on who says hello in a soft small voice and says he's just going to have a look. Which he does - so carefully - he's almost reverent. Which. Cracks. Me. Up.

Anyhooo...yesterday. I'm laying there in all my holey paper glory. The man with the plan comes in, peers through his goggles, stings me with anesthetic (asking each time if I'm alright), acts a bit disturbed by the fact that I'd really like to watch him while he works (and refusing to let me), scrapes out the moles, apologizes when I comment on how bad cauterizing something (i.e. ME) smells and then puts a band-aid on it. While he's telling me how to care for these tiny new boo-boos, it dawns on me that his instructions are exactly the same as how my tattoo artist wants me to take care of my tattoos. SO...of course I HAVE TO MENTION THAT. And when I do...he blushes and sort of stammers "Well, I, I, I wouldn't know...I've never had a tattoo." And then exits the room!! Which. Cracks. Me. Up.

By this point, I'm really REALLY wanting to guffaw. I check on the bill and say my good-by to the lady in white at the check out desk and leave the building. And once I'm in my car - I just cackled. Yes, like a crazy person but it's just too funny!!

Modest doctors are funny. Especially this one. He's a SKIN DOCTOR!!! SKIN is ALL OVER most people. I really don't know any people who aren't covered by SKIN!! And skin covers more than just the parts which are acceptable during prime time television! It's very sweet and cute and innocent I guess...but where's the sense in being a SKIN DOCTOR who's embarassed by...SKIN?! It just CRACKS. ME. UP.

Footnote: (BTW, in case you haven't noticed. Modesty isn't something I'm accused of very often. AND the man with the plan said from what he could see those suspicious spots looked less suspicious once he'd gotten into them. Now we'll just wait on the chemistry to confirm it.)

Holey Moley!

So in just a bit I'm headed in to have a couple suspicious moles removed. yay. Makes me tired just thinking about it. I really hope the old sawbones is running in the ballpark of on-time and gets me in and out of there quick, fast and in a hurry. After all, the world doesn't stop just because I have to take care of myself now does it? On tonight's agenda we have football practice and theater rehearsal and homework and showers and putting the kids to bed and hopefully a minute or two of adult conversation with my husband before I crash out. Only to get up at the ungodly hour of (wait for it...) 4:30 in the morning to make sure The Dervish (aka my 12 year old daughter) is at school in time to get on the bus for her field trip to the Aquarium in Chattanooga tomorrow. Oh drats! I STILL haven't told her dad about it! He'll probably be preturbed because it'll mean an extra trip up to get her tomorrow evening since it's his weekend. Thank goodness.

I think that's one of the few plusses to being divorced. (Well, at least being divorced the way we are anyway.) Most parents don't have the luxury of free, worry free child care every other entire weekend like I do. Every other weekend I have the opportunity to breathe and be me. To sleep late and eat junk. To stay up late and drink lots. To not worry about 'setting an example' or being a 'role model'. Don't get the impression that I'm a party all night kind of girl because I'm not generally. But every other weekend...I COULD BE if I wanted. And that's a luxury.

Of course, most of the time I'm so exhausted from the day-in, day-out that all I really want to do is stay piled up in the bed (with the mattress warmer cranked up) alternately sleeping and reading.

So, I'm on a downhill slide to the weekend and only have to leap the holey moleys to get there. Yes I know tomorrow's Friday but I always feel like I've made it when Friday rolls around. After all, that's blue jeans to work day and I know I won't have wear heels for the next 48 hours. Unless I WANT to that is...