Five Years In

Five years.

Deat died five years ago, February 23, 2008.

In some ways, it doesn't seem so far in the past. When I look at what's changed between then and now, it seems like a long, long time. P.D. and B.B. aren't 6 and 2 years old anymore; they're 11 and 7. My youngest is older, now, than my oldest was, then. 

I've been building up toward this post for several weeks; unsure of what I wanted to say but sure that I needed to say SOMETHING. I decided to include an inventory similar to one I've used with clients to see if those ideas lead somewhere interesting. They did for a bit, but it still took me 3 more days to finally finish.

Family - Deat and I hoped to foster a sense of "all for one and one for all" in our family culture. It's hard to be objective, but I like to think of us as a tight little team. I think the girls understand that we depend on each other, and we each have to contribute to make this thing run smoothly. I think in some ways the adversity probably bonded us a bit tighter from necessity. I will admit, I still wish the girls' had the benefit of Deat's life perspective to compare and contrast with mine as they decide for themselves where their values and priorities lie. Luckily, I have a pretty good memory and share as much of who he was with them as I can.

As for extended family, My parents and siblings still live in or near P-town, Deat's are still in J-town, and all of them are still my family. Sometimes folks are surprised to learn I have a close relationship with Deat's parents and his brother and family. It's hard for me to imagine the kind of pain it would be to lose them, too.

Friendships and Leisure Activities - In my married life: Deat was my very best friend; Sabrina filled most any of the gaps in between... not to mention that the girls were small and there just wasn't room or time for outside socializing.

Five years later: Over time, God has blessed us with a tight support network of friends to hang with. In just the past year we've been to several cookouts, taken a group trip to the Knoxville Zoo, a group trip to the aquarium in Gatlinburg, went to and hosted Christmas parties, hosted a five-family yard sale, had several get-togethers with just the Ladies and other get-togethers for the whole families, both here and at others' homes, had overnight guests from out of town twice, had  Theatre Babies coming over for dinner, participated and performed in a few plays.

The common theme of all these activities?  Lots of love and laughter. I can't imagine being more blessed than we are.

Health/Exercise - See previous post

Work/Career/Education - Big changes there. In February 2008 I was in my 9th year as a membership representative for the nation's largest small business lobby. I signed up new members through cold calling; renewed existing members through delivery of an annual progress report. I had a large territory that extended into several counties. And I soon realized I had no more desire to get out of the truck and actually DO my job than the man in the moon.

Part of the problem was that I traditionally gave a very folksy pitch that included anecdotes about the things my husband would say. I didn't know how to adjust it to take Deat out of it. Add to that plain old grief and situational depression; I didn't have much desire to talk to anyone; much less about the politics that were often of more interest to Deat than to me.

I realized part of the reason I loved the job was because I "shared" it with Deat: I just didn't want to do it anymore, but had no idea what I could do. So God told me. In January of 2010, I returned to school, and in 2012 I finished my M.Ed. in Counseling and Human Development.

Today I am a licensed counseling associate working for an agency. Interesting that I left my old job in part because I shared so much of my own life in it, and moved to a job where my experiences help me to relate to my clients, but the less I discuss my own life, the better.

Most important lesson of late: Empathy does not mean putting MYSELF in the client's shoes; I know how I think and it's unlikely that the client thinks the way I do. Empathy is closer to understanding how my client feels about the shoes he or she is wearing.

With that in mind, I do want to share a bit about the shoes I wear and what they mean to me:

1. I am not broken and I don't want to be treated that way. I've moved through the worst of my grief. If anything, I'm less vulnerable: Very little about the future scares me anymore. The worst thing I could imagine happening, happened, but I survived it. I'm here, my girls are here, and we're okay.

Am I the same person I was five, six years ago? No. I wasn't the same person, in 2008 that I had been in 2003, either. If I seem quirky and strange, well, believe it or not, I was quirky and strange before I became a widow, before I became a wife. T.L. can attest to that.

2. My life doesn't need "fixing." I don't need a husband. I don't need a boyfriend. I don't need a shoulder to cry on. I don't need a substitute father for my girls. If I need help, I ask for it. Our gang of friends includes some really fantastic examples of upstanding faith-filled men who look out for us. I also have an awesome brother and brothers-in-law. I have plenty of models to help me show the girls how a good man conducts himself so they'll know when they're old enough to start evaluating their own potential suitors. (And with that bunch of fellas looking out for my girls, I feel sorry for the first guy to come calling!)

For me, I'm not saying I'm opposed to a romantic relationship. I'm clarifying: if I do have a man in my life, it will be because I allow him to be, not because I need him to save me from the life I have. Right at the moment, I don't see a great deal of free time to pursue such a relationship, but if I did find room, let me add a warning: if I complain, don't try to fix it, try listening... that's probably all I want.

3: I see myself as blessed. And that's how I want you to see me. Don't cry for me for the loss of my husband; rejoice with me that I had the privilege to be his wife. I got to be married to the greatest guy I ever knew for almost 9 years, and I have the wonderful second family he left me, as well as two beautiful girls to carry on his legacy. Why would you feel sorry for that? My challenges of the past  five years weren't/aren't greater or lesser than yours. They were/are just different.

Finally, I won't pretend that I was Miss Strong and Brave all the time. There were periods in there that were truly horrible, and feelings I hope I never experience again. Do I still miss Deat and wish he were here? Without question. Little things can still bring fresh pain. That said, as time goes on, it does get more bearable, and easier to live with.

At some point the "new" normal stops being the new normal, and without fanfare, it becomes simply, THE normal. The resentment of not living the life you had planned gives way to acceptance of the blessings in the life you still have.

To paraphrase the reminder plaque our beloved neighbor, Miss G. (also widowed), plunked down on my end table on a day when I came to her crying and struggling:

"It's (still) a wonderful life!"

Don't Let the Pigeon...

What is it about the mildly obscure reference that makes it so much more amusing? You know the jokes I mean, the ones that make you laugh, not only because of the humor behind them, but because of the feeling that you're one of only a certain group who will truly "get" the joke.

I used to think there was a bit of elitism to it, "I'm one of this group, you're not, ha ha," but as I get older, I believe it's not the EX-clusion of others, but the IN-clusion of the group that makes it all the more fun.

These references take on two similar, yet different, forms: the popular/public culture form, and the "I get it because I was there" form.

We turned off the cable TV around here years ago, so, with a little help from Amazon, I only recently learned how to properly use "Bazinga" in a sentence. Luckily, a few years ago memes came along: they were quick, funny, and offered me some inclusion despite my busy schedule: parenthood and illness just didn't allow me to stay informed: Ain't nobody got time for that! (sorry, had to be done... Harold, Heather, there's your shout-out.)

Also, parenthood offers it's own culture. For example, I know who this guy is:

Do you know this guy? No? Well you can go look him up,
just like I have to do, on the actual, "hip" pop culture references...

Wait! Are things "hip," "cool," "boss," or something else, nowadays?

He's more important later...

Your References

Anyway, the "I get it because I was there" kind... I try to give that to you  guys. I make internal references and link to them... old posts, people, etc. I keep hoping this will inspire a cult following. It hasn't worked so much for me, but, from my stat counters I can tell that the MC (see labels on the right) had his own fan club for a time there.

I also notice my life sometimes runs in themes, so I try to share and label those for you, too. See how good I am to you people? Today, I'm even, once again, putting the laundry off for you!

You may have noticed, (no you didn't, who am I kidding?) that the newest label added to the group is "Pets and Animal Oddities". You may have believed that label originated in the recent Pre-Teen Titan or Hedgehog Harassment posts. (Oh dear God, somebody stop me I'm obsessed with linking!) 

Actually, the theme began a couple months ago with her:

You have to imagine her smaller and much scrawnier.

The Cat and The Cookies

This little creature started hanging out on my back porch in late November. I got tired of tripping over Sophie the Wonder Dog's food bowls, so I told the girls that we'd have to leave Sophie's food outside... which above creature took as an invitation to partake. I really didn't mind, she was so skinny, if she needed to eat, let her. I was sure Sophie would run her off, soon. Taking a note from B.B.'s reading homework, we started referring to her as Amelia Bedelia.

Why did you have to be there? On the second Sunday in December every year, we host our annual Cookie Party... an all-day affair. While once small, the Cookie Party now includes invites to all the theatre babies and their families, resulting in some 50 or so of our friends, adults and children, over the course of the day. We spend the early afternoon cutting out, baking and decorating cookies until the kids get bored (somewhere during the second batch) then spend the rest of the afternoon hanging out, chatting, kids playing, until early evening when we order pizzas for whomever is left. (This year we needed 8 pizzas.) 

The house is full; the atmosphere is insane. It's my very favorite day of the year! 

This is actually from one of the tamer parties from years past.
You get the idea...

Every year some private jokes emerge that last a month or two, some endure. Travis will never live down burning out my mixer one year. This year produced the Jonathan Action Figure, "This is Danny and He's a Free Agent." and The Cat That Invaded. 

See how sweet and timid that little face above looks? Not so. Every time the back door opened, she was trying to get in. 

"Kelly, is  your cat allowed in?"

"No, catch her, that's not my cat."

"Kelly, where did you get that pretty cat on the porch?"

"I don't know, that's not my cat. She just likes to hang out here."

"Why does B.B. call her 'Amelia'?"

"Uh, because that's what, I, uh,  named her."

Knowing look and nod. (I hate those!)

Around late afternoon, despite SIX people sitting around the kitchen table, she managed to GET ON TOP of said table and sample a little bit of the frosting from several bowls and the tops of several cookies remaining there. Heather spotted her, grabbed her by the scruff of her neck and with definite prejudice, unceremoniously dumped her out the door.

"Kelly, your cat ruined all the leftovers."

"THAT'S NOT MY CAT!"

"Somebody needs to tell her that."

In the following weeks I got several queries as to how the "cat that was not mine" was doing. Har de har har.

At Christmas break, as we were leaving to go visit family, I warned the girls that she would likely be gone upon our return. Sophie would be traveling with us, and Sophie's absence would also mean the absence of Sophie's food; I told the girls I felt sure the cat would find another family, though. After all, she was agreeable and started purring the second a person picked her up... who wouldn't love her? I mean, I could manage not to love her... but others would fall prey to those sweet little, precious little charms... AHEM!

When we returned, I had to issue a Facebook release and eat my words:

Just in case anyone missed Miss G.'s contribution to the thread... see below.

Sigh. God (with Miss G.'s help) decided we needed a cat.

The Fish 

And with that little inch came the Hedgehog mile. I told P.D. a couple days ago that if she could save up and pay for it, along with all the supplies, she could have her beloved hedgehog. 

I forgot that Miss B.B. saves all her birthday money and had quite a stash in place. Enough to get a whole fish starter tank going. Enough that, in the interest of fairness, we tromped out to Walmart last night to get supplies to get the aquarium started and will be tromping out tonight to get the fish to live in it. 

B.B. initially wanted to put the fish in her room, but I put the kibosh on that. (Since I'm obviously so good at setting limits around here.) She complained, how would anyone know that they were HER fish?

Problem Solved!

The Joke's on Who?

It would seem the girls are fairly innocent in all this, wouldn't it? It would seem all these additions are happy accidents; who knew Danny and Miss G. would turn out to be such great allies? It might even seem that they don't realize the distress I would naturally feel at going from merely Sophie the Wonder Dog, to a soon-to-be-four-animal household.

Here's where you kind of have to be a parent and kind of have to be "in-on" the joke. As my girls, B.B. in particular, apparently are, and have been, "in-on" this joke the whole time. 

Yesterday, B.B. brought home her "Don't Let the Pigeon" assignment from her first grade class.

(Aside, to Miss J., as promised, lots and lots of pictures)

Hedgehog Harassment

Today's post is something new to JKH, a Facebook-Text Message-Drawing media extravaganza, with very little actual writing on my part.

Warning: this post will be difficult to view on a phone.

I only want to record a fraction of the campaign waged against me and my wishes. If I give in, you'll know I made a valiant effort against the tide... I say "only a fraction" because I could only screenshot my text messages with Danny back to the 13th...

It started innocently enough...

Thursday January 10
Mode: Facebook

Friday & Saturday, January 11 & 12

Filly can attest, I got numerous harassing texts on Friday... mostly referring to a hedgehog as a "little precious" à la Gollum. (Important later) Saturday was so crazy I don't think either of the Hedgehog team was on task.

Sunday, January 13

Mode: Facebook

The actual video is below... and yeah, the little sucker IS indescribably cute. (be strong, be strong...)

Monday, January 14

Mode: Text

And on Facebook: 

She's either gonna be a salesperson, a lawyer or a carnival barker...

Tuesday, January 15

Mode: Text Messaging

(For reference, see "Pre-Teen Titan")

Mode: HOMEWORK?

And fnally, the pièce de résistance also happened to fall in the correct order chronologically. P.D. brought home her most recent English assignment yesterday evening, an illustrated poem.

Haiku de Hedgehog

Cold Hedgehog in sock

Hiding, waiting for snow's end

Shivering, sleepy

Pre-teen Titan?

P.D. is a funny kid. If she wants something, she researches it and collects all the facts to decide whether and how much she truly wants it. By the time she presents it to me, she knows her subject inside and out. 

She's been pondering unusual pets since before Christmas. For a some time, she wanted a breed of turtle called a Red-eared Slider. She filled me with enough facts and trivia that if someone brought me one, I'd not only recognize it; I could diagnose any ailments it might have.

Recently, her interest has turned to hedgehogs.

Conversation this morning before school:

P.D.: They start hissing and panting to warn you if you handle them too much. If I got a hedgehog I would name him, "Kraken".

Me: Okay, I'll bite, why "Kraken"? I thought you just said hedgehogs weren't very aggressive?"

P.D.: "Because then if one of B.B.'s friends came over and wouldn't put him down, I could say...

"RELEASE THE KRAKEN!"

(I can totally see that face at 1:28 on P.D. if they didn't listen...)

Hanging on to the Gusto and Conversating* with the Boo Bear

The Gusto Theatre closed, but the legacy in my life lives on.

Last weekend P.D. and I went to see "Hunger Games." Don't brow-beat me for letting P.D. see such a violent movie... we both had already read the books (have you?) and discussed them. If she had asked to go with someone else, my answer would have been "no" but she was with me, and since we already knew every scene, none of it was really shocking.

Anyway, at the theater, two of my "Gusto Theatre Babies" came up and hugged me. Later in the week, I got a call from one of my teenage "Babies", upset over a break-up. He came over for dinner for a distraction the next night... B.B. kept him so busy playing "Go Fish" and swinging on the swing set, I daresay it worked. Another one IMed me in Facebook last night for some quick advice. Kids are so great. All I ever did was let them know I cared... and it makes my day each and every time one of them calls me on it.

Last night the "Ladies of Gusto" had potluck at our "monthly" get-together. Back in June or July last year at one of the shows, I suggested a "Margarita Night" at my house for the moms of the theatre kids. I was surprised at how many were interested! We had six women, we had a private Facebook page for messages to one another... we had tequila, we had a blender, we had Sabrina at the helm, we were in business!

We had so much fun, we decided to do it again... and again... and we realized we weren't really drinking much margarita. Finally, one night Janet said, "Hey, do we have to make the margaritas or can we just admit that we really like each other?" (Poor Janet is stuck babysitting the tequila at her house; we still haven't gotten all the way through it.) We figured out, the margaritas just drew the line and said "No kids allowed." But now that we're tequila-free, we're even having the kids come, too.

I didn't realize how much I needed girlfriends and girl-time. I don't think any of us did. We share our ups, our downs... we tell stories about our families, the people we grew up with. We TRY to stop short of the following, but last night we had to sing a rousing chorus...

We don't MEAN to...

Pennie took P.D. home with her to spend the night with her daughter... then asked to keep her one MORE night. B.B. says she's missing Sissy, but she likes the "Just Momma and Me" time. She decided she wanted supper from a local fast food place.

B.B. Momma are you ready?

Me: I just gotta find my keys.

B.B.: Now you know you're supposed to put them on the hook as soon as you come in! (Stopped just short of rolling her eyes.)

Me: Kinda like, um, your shoes and your closet?

B.B.: Um... yes? (Big-eyed smile.)

Later, in the car...

B.B.: Momma, is it late Spring?

Me: No, I think it's more like early- or mid- Spring.

B.B.: You don't get to have Summer until after Spring, right?

Me: Right.

B.B.: That's what Papaw said. but I don't know if Papaw knows about these things...

Me: Why wouldn't Papaw know?

B.B.: Well, he's Papaw, and I have to...

Me: B.B., are you just talking to hear yourself talk?

B.B.: (Looking shocked) How did you know? (Long pause) I know f-o-r spells for, and I can use it in a sentence...

Life is good.


* Conversating is a reference from Capricorn Cringe. You can search it on her blog.

Sister Love, or, A Funny Thing Happened on the Way Home from the E.R.

Today I got a phone call at work --  P.D.(age 10) in hysterics. "Maaaaa-maaaa" was just about the only word I understood. I managed to decipher that B.B. (her 6 year old sister) had been hurt.

Somehow, as my breathing began to go shallow and my blood pressure began rising, I was able to maintain the presence of mind to discern that B.B., the injured one, was NOT crying. I tried to calm P.D. and asked her to put Ms. Marjorie on the phone. Apparently B.B. and P.D. were in a tussle when B.B. let go, fell backward and hit her head on a piece of furniture.

From my own days as an E.R. frequent flier, I remembered that even with a minor injury, scalps bleed a lot. I asked Ms. Marjorie to check and see if it was a gaping wound, and she reported that it was not, so I didn't worry. It was close to the end of the day and I'd be leaving soon anyway.

Came home, checked it out, it didn't look bad so I started the night routine. After B.B.'s bath, I checked it again and noticed that it wasn't a scrape, as Ms. Marjorie and I had first surmised, but actually a cut with just enough of a gap to require a trip to the hospital. Sigh. Of course B.B. was scared and protested, but I assured her that while it would hurt some, it wouldn't hurt for very long. That seemed to reassure her.

When we arrived in triage, the nurse informed me that she'd need a couple staples, but that with the newer numbing gels and techniques, it wouldn't even hurt. What a relief! P.D. and I sat in our waiting cubicle in the E.R., laughing and playing math games with B.B. to distract her.

Unfortunately, the nice nurse was WRONG. It did hurt. If you've been following this very long, you know P.D. (the one in tears) is the sensitive one; B.B. is Momma's Precious Little Monster.**  B.B. does not go down without a fight. It took five of us to hold her down for the second of the 2 staples. P.D. had to leave the room, she couldn't watch.

Soapbox moment: I learned this from my dear Daddy: 


Don't EVER tell a child something won't hurt if it will.

Lying about it just teaches the child that you can't be trusted. B.B.'s hurt feelings about being lied to, then held down, lasted way longer than the pain of the actual staples. She cried, and cried, and cried... and cried some more. 

Finally, as we were leaving I offered her a bribe distraction to help her calm down. 

Conversation on the way home:

B.B.: (sniffling) You're still the best Momma in the world.

Me: Really? Why?

B.B.: Because you said I could have ice cream if I calmed down. I sound really calm, don't I, Momma?

Me. Yes, you do.

B.B.: Sissy's really calm. I think she should have something special, too.

How could I refuse? :)

** B.B., if you are reading well enough that you can read this post, all I have to say about the comment with the asterisk is, "Well, you WERE!"

Jerks Need Not Apply

Remember way back when I said I was ready to date again? Well, uh, hmm... they still aren't knocking down my door. As much as it pains me to admit it,* I'm not quite as cute at 41 as I was at 27.

Not that I mind. I have a meaningful job, great friends, and two beautiful little girls that fill my world with love and laughter. When God decides the time it right, it will happen. For now I'm content with my life as-is.

Besides, the more stories I hear from single/divorced friends, not to mention clients, the happier I am that the stress of "a relationship" isn't part of my realm. I'm not hearing about a wealth of good men out there. Even the M.C. has mentioned that it seems that a disproportionate number of our clients (particularly the women) seem to be "stuck" in relationships where they aren't supported, valued or appreciated. I remember falling prey to dating partners like that a time or two myself back in the day.

I've pondered how (besides just being blessed) I was fortunate enough to have been married to a man like Deat. I've jokingly said that two months after his death I elevated him to sainthood and I conveniently forgot every single flaw he had... but compared to the men I've been hearing about, he really was a saint! How did I get so lucky and others didn't? I've further wondered: when the time comes, how will I teach P.D. and B.B. to guard their precious hearts from the "playas" of the world?

Today, a friend of mine posted a link to this article and I think it offers part of the answer. The following is from Darlene Brock at the Grit and Grace Project. You'll find a link to the blog section of her site over in the "I Read These" list on the right.

If He Acts like a Jerk… he probably is

We live in a world where there must be a Masters Degree in Excuses for Bad Behavior.  That reality is evidenced in the relationship single females have with their male counterparts.  It seems the female is constantly seeking the reason her male counterpart acted the way he did when the answer is often so simple.

He says he didn’t call because his phone battery died.  When really he went out with his buddies and you were the last thing on his mind.  He’s so sorry he was an hour late the traffic was really bad.  Instead of I just didn’t think you would be upset that I had to master one more level on my video game before I could find my keys to get in the car.

Then the classic I am afraid of commitment because I was hurt so badly by someone else.  Instead of I have every intention of seeing everything I can get from you while making a minimal amount of effort.

Ladies, what is wrong with this picture???????  We must not assume that all men make excuses, some are caught in traffic, have let their cell phone battery die or have been hurt, these are life realities.  But let’s not assume they are telling the truth either.  Especially when you are hoping to build a long lasting relationship with a repeat offender.  They must earn your respect and trust the same way you must earn theirs.

Simple common courtesy - call when you say you will, arrive on time - just basics should be expected.  The exception to that behavior needs to be occasional not recurrent.  It doesn’t matter how cute he is or how many flowers he brings to prove he’s sorry if all he can offer is an excuse in answer to the “what happened?” question.   This indicates a personality that will display unacceptable behavior in every area of life.

Simple moral to the story ladies, if he acts like a jerk……he probably is.  Don’t accept his excuses and expect more from him than his lack of even a little common courtesy.  If all ladies would hold men to this standard they would step up.  They would work for that relationship because they had to.  They need to work for it.  They would be better men worthy of women that expect better men.  Worthy of women who themselves seek to be better women.  And you wouldn’t be left waiting by the phone hoping for a call.

Simple and succinct, but it speaks volumes. In six short paragraphs, she conveyed a message that so many young girls forget or never learned... heck, a lesson that so many grown women need to understand. I'll be making copies of it for some of my clients.

Reading this reminded me of the attitude I maintained during my dating days. I gave this "speech" to more than one guy, and when I think back to the heartaches and heartbreaks... they came when I allowed myself to settle for less.

So you say you want to date me, huh? Well let's get something clear. While I love a friendly competition, in a relationship I don't compete: not with other women, not with alcoholism, not with drugs, not with sports or your buddies. I understand you'll want to spend time with your friends, I can take time with my friends, too. But I won't tolerate being treated inconsiderately, period.  

I'm not unreasonable, I just ask that you do what you say you will do. If you said you'd call, call. Don't be late or break a date without a good reason. I understand that circumstances come up, and sometimes it can't be helped. If we had plans but you can't be where you said you'd be, make a phone call so I'm not sitting around worrying and wondering where you are. I'll treat you with respect and expect the same. I will not tolerate less.

I don't compete because I don't have to. If I can't win, I won't play. It's that simple. If I have to win your time, your attention, your consideration, quite frankly, I'm not interested... because that tells me you aren't, either.

 As Darlene Brock points out, simple common courtesy is not too much to expect, but when we accept less; less is what we get.

Is it possible that speech might send a guy I was interested in packing? Well, yeah, it was designed to! I figured if he was interested enough to stick around after that speech, he might be worth my time. It's funny to me now. but simple courtesy was one of the things that helped put Deat on his pedestal.

When the time comes, I think I'll be grilling P.D. and B.B with this speech until they can quote it verbatim. I realize they will probably date different boys with a host of other issues, but hopefully this will weed out a few of them.

Meanwhile, just in case some suitor comes to call, I think I'll brush up on it, too.

*Sarcasm alert

Cleaning It Up for Fun and...

Who are we kidding, I want recognition from people I don't even know. Which is bad... more on that later.

You may have noticed when the blog opened that something was missing. Don't fret, the playlist is still there, you just have to turn it on yourself now. Apparently, auto-play playlists on blogs are annoying... who knew?

And... so are archive lists that are too long. And lists of blogs I read... and... and..

 Did I mention I broke the toilet yesterday? I did.

For some strange reason, (although I have bought and installed replacement kits on 2 separate occasions), the little stopper inside the tank goes off track more often than it stays in place... meaning the drain is not plugged I have to take the lid off the tank to get it back in place or face a huge water bill from the water running running running trying to fill the tank.

Yesterday, the lid slipped from my hands and I dropped it (just a few inches!) and it hit the back of the bowl part.

See that hole? 

I didn't think that hole was a big deal, just ugly, something I'd get around to replacing when life wasn't quite so sucky busy.

"MOMMA! The water's running into the floor!" (Clean water from the tank, not the "other" water.)

"(Sigh) Don't worry, you guys are just going to have to use the other bathroom until Momma can fix it."

Later in the evening, à la Bil Keane, somebody snuck into the house and used the broken toilet!

The Culprit? NOT ME!!!

That's okay Mr. NOT ME... I fixed your little wagon...

Let's see the smarmy little (*%*&^$* get past THAT!

Ahem!

So in a few minutes I'm off to buy a toilet and ruin spend part of the rest of my day installing it.

What did I start this post with? Oh, yeah, changes to the blog.

I was thinking of submitting JustKellyHere in for a blog review. I checked the review site, and apparently they HATE auto-play playlists, long archive lists (Mine isn't that long. Does that archive list make my butt look big?) and (their words) Long A** Linky Love Lists. (I like links. I care about my links. They stay.)

I read some of their site and they don't seem very nice. Do I really want to submit my little love-labor to these evil folks for them to tear apart? Well, there is the remote chance they'd like it, and isn't it fun when that person who hates everybody, hates everybody, but you? 

Maybe that's why sites set up for the sole purpose of making fun of people are so popular, so we can look at them and think "At least that's NOT ME."


Ya know what? I don't need their approval. More power to them as they do what they do,  but I'm taking my little blog and going home.

So, you guys rate JustKellyHere. Please tell me what you like and what you don't in the comments. Let me know if you want the playlist put back on auto-play.

I'm going to buy a toilet.

Okay, So I'm Full of Myself. Meanwhile, you can fill up on Five-Minute Chocolate Cake

The MC asked me why I blog. He does. not. get. it. When I tried to answer him, I didn't get it either, or at least not well enough to tell him. I told him about always wanting to write, the original mission of this blog and so on.

What surprised me was he didn't call BS. (I hope because the answer I gave him was mostly true.) The teensy part I didn't mention (but I'm sure he knows) is that blogging appeals to my ego. I'm owning up to it. The idea that people actually come see what I'm up to, actually enjoy reading what I write, feeds that little sucker. This especially true since I started monitoring hits with a couple stat counters.. it's so fun to see that little spike in the graph! (Besides, you people are so stingy with comments... I digress.) I also noticed that when I blog more often, I get more hits per entry... go figure. Gotta keep it current.

So, with that in mind, I recently made a deal with myself to blog more often, shooting for twice a week. I realize I'm going to have to be entertaining to keep you coming back. Unfortunately, my brain is shutting down from papers and studying and school projects and work projects and elementary school stuff, and kid stuff and Friends' stuff and my stuff and at some point if I kept going along this vein your eyes would being seeing the words but your brain would be hearing the following, and you'd probably be doing what Peppermint Patty is doing here:

So, I've been scoping out other blogs for sources of entertainment for you people. One technique I discovered for those "hard to come up with material" days is the photo essay. 

SO, for your entertainment and edification, I now present to you a photo essay from a recipe someone sent me on email. I actually posted this on Facebook about 6 months ago... but I'm short on brainpower and this is easy. If you don't enjoy it, I'm sorry. (But will you please please please keep coming back anyway?)

Five Minute Chocolate Cake

Warning! Dangerous! Continue at your own risk! If you read this you will be only five minutes away from chocolate cake at any given time!!!!

First you need these... a tablespoon a butter knife...
and you also need a large coffee mug (not shown)

Put 4 tablespoons of this in the mug

Then 4 tablespoons of this

Then 2 tablespoons of this...
Stir all the dry ingredients with the butter knife until 
well blended...

Break this and put it in the mug...
Stir stir stir with the butter knife until well blended...

Add 3 tablespoons of this

Then 3 tablespoons of this...
Stir stir stir

Now 3 tablespoons of these, stir stir stir

Just a splash of this, stir, stir stir

All stirred up it looks like this!

Pop it in here, if it's 1000 watt, just set for 3 minutes, 
if it's stronger, lower the power setting. 
I set mine for 9 but I think 8 might have been better. 
It will start growing

And growing

And GROWING EVEN MORE!!! 
(Next time I think I will try a bigger mug,
 but the recipe said it would grow out of the top)

Take your butter knife and run it around the edges... 
Dump it on a plate...
Have a little taste...

And the verdict is... pretty darn tasty! *

Makes enough for 3 really, but B.B. didn't want any!
Ice cream makes it PERFECT!

Enjoy!


* Thanks for playing, uh, neighbor kid...

Dealing with Frustration in a Therapeutically and Nutritionally Sound Manner

Arrrgh!

The MC and I had a conversation about this very expression the other day.

I was typing out some paperwork, hit a snag, emitted a quiet but frustrated, "Arrgh!"

(The) MC: How do you do that?

Me: What?

MC: You do it all the time. Wait, let me back up, when you make that noise, are you completely thrown or can you go right back to it?

Me: I go right back to it, why?

MC: I couldn't. That would throw me completely.

Me: You learn how. I do that to get my frustration out.

MC: (Snickering) So you're saying you let it out a little at at a time so you don't get impatient, like, say, I do?

Me. Your words not mine, Dude, your words not mine.

Aaaand speaking of frustration and impatience... 

B.B. is still pretty excited about kindergarten, all except for the walking everyday at recess.

What? You say your kindergartener didn't have to do that? That could be because your kindergartener isn't as evil high-spirited as Little Miss Boo.  In a week and a half she's managed to go ONE WHOLE DAY with no punishable offenses. YAAAY B.B.! One day in 10! Let's shoot for 2 next week!

She was quick to point out she only had to walk for 5 minutes of her recess today, usually she gets ten minutes. Hey, improvement's improvement, I'll take it.

Momma (me, not MY Momma) is rather diggin' the Kindergarten scene, too. For this one year, I have both babies under the same roof. Driving to only one location (rather than all over L-town) every morning is Suh-weet!  

That said, time diminished my memories of what Kindergartener-parenting entailed. I've been spoiled by the angelic Miss P.D. of the upper-elementary grades. P.D. does her homework. P.D. only needs Momma to check her backpack periodically. Fifth-graders (Fifth grade? Where did the time go?) aren't required to bring in snack for the whole class once a month.

I had also forgotten the rigors of 702 KAR 6:090. What's 702 KAR 6:090 you ask?  It is the Kentucky "Minimum nutritional standards for foods and beverages available on public school campuses during the school day" 

You buy that don't you? I don't. I've seen what they serve through the cafeteria... However, it IS the standard sent home with the note telling you that you need to get ready for your child's snack day turn. Kindly enough, they also send a list of 45 pre-approved, pre-packaged snacks for you to choose from at your shopping leisure. How convenient!

B.B.'s day to bring snack is tomorrow. I told P.D. to put a check by the ones she thought would be the best so I wouldn't end up buying B.B. a "nerdy" snack for her first snack day. Nothing but coolness for my baby.  That pecking order forms early. P.D. made some good choices, Baked chips, animal crackers, Teddy Grahams... easy, right? Everybody carries the little individual packages of these items, right?

Uh, no. No they don't.

We strolled non-nonchalantly through the L-town Kroger this afternoon without a care in the world. We only needed a few items, it was only 4:45, we'd take our time and enjoy our shopping. At just over 3/4 of the way through the  store, maybe Aisle 12, we arrived in the "cracker" aisle, perfect place to find pre-packaged animal crackers, or Cheese Nips or Teddy Grahams, right?

Animal Crackers? Wrong brand. Cheese Nips? None. Teddy Grahams? Wrong size package. Nabisco 100 Calorie Wheat Thin Packs? No multi-packages containing only the Wheat Thins, but variety packs with the Wheat Thins and 2 kinds that weren't on the list. That's okay, the 702 KAR 6:090 guidelines are right here on the list, only 3 main criteria to worry about: Sugar Content, Percent of Calories from Fat, and Sodium Content. Let me check on the back of these other two bad boys... at only 100 calories they gotta pass, right?

Fail.

After 20 minutes of this, we trouped back across the store to the breakfast food, Aisle 4: list in hand, forget cool. Surely Kroger would have

Chex Morning Mix snack packs? No.

Single serving packages of:

     Kellogg's Corn Flakes? No.
     Frosted Mini Wheats? No.
     Raisin Bran? No.
     Good Old Cheerios? No.

We reversed direction, this time to Aisle 13, the chip aisle. Where the heck were the Baked Lay's mini bags? Luckily a nice young man in a Kroger shirt happened by. I showed him the list and he mentioned a couple items he thought they might have in stock. He also directed me to the Lay's variety packs. (B.B.'s number one choice by this time) Back in Aisle 1. *sigh*

We arrived back in the bread section to find the correctly-sized bags of chips, Yaay!

None of these were baked chips, as required by 702 KAR 6:090 ... Booooooo.

We trudged back to Aisle 4 in search of the Quaker Chewy Granola bars, Chocolate Chips. The heavens opened up and an ethereal light shone down, the "angel" music played... lo and behold, LEGAL* SNACKS!!!!

Except, B.B. said, "NO Mommy! That's what we had for snack TODAY! Those aren't very good, Mommy."

I'm exhausted. By this time it's almost 6:30. Yet, how could I send my baby daughter, on her very first turn for snack-day, to school with a snack she didn't even like? That would just be cruel! Yet, in adherence with the nutritional wisdom of the 1990 Kentucky General Assembly, I HAD to comply with 702 KAR 6:090, right?

We made a different selection.



This was the one other item at the L-town Kroger that met the criteria espoused by 702 KAR 6:090, and therefore, made it to the "acceptable" list:

Banana-Flavored Cream-Filled Cakes covered in Crisco! YUM!!!!

*Sigh* Only in Kentucky....

*Kroger also had the Quaker Chewy Granola Bars in PEANUT BUTTER Chocolate Chip, (as approved on the list) but as any good elementary-school-aged child's mother knows, you go to hell for sending any product containing peanuts to school.