Saturday, November 15, 2008

Seasoned Wood.

I am a Yankee. I am proud to be a Yankee. Growing up in NY has given me insight others do not have. But moving to the south there have been some things that I do not understand. If you don't grow up with some terms you have no idea what they mean! It is not that I am stupid, I am simply not educated in the hick talk.

We were driving down the road and I noticed a beautiful pile of wood. A sign made out of cardboard and red spray paint (the same color was used to spruce up the pick up in which said wood was contained) said "Seasoned wood fur sale". I am going to let that go. I have seen signs in the past, the funniest of which was "Far wood for sale" That took me a while. Far wood? really? How Far away is this wood from? Do I have to go get it? Is there cutting involved? Because I am not a go find it chop it and bring it home kinda girl. Can I drive? But no, Far wood would surely cause sweating. That might be considered exercise. I will just pick some up at Kroger all bagged up with a handle as to not risk nail chippage.

So we drive by this red truck with the fire wood. Seasoned wood. That sounds fun! I imagine burning this wood in my fire place. It has been a while, because you can't burn a fire with children around. At least not my children. They have hair, it stinks when it gets to burning.
But they are older now. They could comprehend, do not touch the fire. Stay away from the fire.
I am excited!

So I ask my husband, the love of my life, father of my children, person whom I have chosen to entrust my secrets and share my eternity with (well, or until he really pisses me off, which ever comes first). I ask him, What do you think they season it with? Cinnamon? Maybe some apple spice? It might smell sooo good!

He stares at me. Looks at me like I have 3 noses.

WHAT??
Do they use something stupid that makes it smell like pine, because I can get trees that smell like pine in my yard.

He tells me. Like I am the uneducated one. Why does the redneck with the spray painted pick up just tell me it is AGED a season!?!
Stupid wood. I didn't want a fire anyway.

Saturday, November 8, 2008

Sleep!

My children do not know how to tell time and the little monsters got up at 6:30/7am all week. When mommy goes to bed at 2am this time slot is not open for awakenings of any kind. Since I didn't go to work but one day last week I HAD to drag my zombie butt into work and deal with it. Every day it got worse. My lovely husband kept telling me (As if it made my knowledge of his 7 hour sleepy nights flutter away, or make me not hate him one... neither happened) that he would let me sleep in Saturday as long as I wanted.
But he kept his promise. I was asleep at 1:30 and I slept until 1 in the afternoon.
I feel like crap!
I can't win to lose apparently. I got up cuddled with my babies, went to Walmart for dog food (two days of eating dog biscuits is apparently something you don't do), and that is about it. I am so sleepy! Too much sleep, I always thought that was something silly people who are jealous of your ability to sleep 9/10 hours a night tell you. Oh well. I am sleepy! off to bed...

Sunday, November 2, 2008

Come on people!


So I am reading my favorite news site and I come across a headline that cracks me up.

"Fifth Grader draws scariest Halloween mask ever for Art class, gets hauled away to mental hospital by police. (with teacher-terrifying pic of mask)"

Great right? So I click the link and am taken to the most ridiculous story I have read in a long time. They tell a class of 5th graders to draw scary Halloween masks in art class. The Art teacher actually helps this kid make the eyes creepier on his vampire. Great job kid!

Kid goes back to homeroom, his homeroom teacher sees it and freaks out, takes the picture to the assistant principal who stupidly agrees that it is a crazy terrible mask and the kid obviously has issues... and can't come back to school until he has a psych evaluation.

WHAT!?!

Wait, it gets better. When people start to ask what the hell these people are thinking they try to defend their decision by saying that it could be gang related! He wrote "I kill for Blood" on it. Now, lets give the people the benefit of the doubt on this one, they may have forgotten it was a picture of a vampire, and they do... well, KILL FOR BLOOD. But okay. whatever. Idiots want to say this kid is a member of the Bloods street gang. Brilliant.

BUT then they say that the blood the child has dripping from the eyes and nose of the vampire look like tattoos gang member get for killing people.

"They told me the droplets could actually be a gang symbol for the number of people he killed," she said. (She being his mother, They being the school)

Okay, I am not going to sit here and say that gang members don't recruit 5th graders, even possibly in the crime ridden city of Savannah. BUT I am willing to put money on the idea that a fifth grader is not crafty enough to commit murder in such a way as to not get caught. Especially 8 times, which is the number of blood drops on this picture.

They look like drops of blood to me. Color them blue and the vampire is crying. Put them above his head and we got frickin RAIN DROPS PEOPLE! This whole situation is insane. People this stupid should not be in leadership positions, let alone allowed to teach our children! Why is there not a common sense exam people need to pass to be allowed in public service? I will write one. This poor kid just did what he was told to do.

ARGH!

One more pro for the homeschooling side of my pro/con list.
I won't have to deal with idiotic teachers making big deals out of innocent halloween masks and yet, somehow not caring about the bullying, teasing, hitting, fighting "normal" 5th graders do.

These people make my chest hurt!

Link to story - http://savannahnow.com/node/605769

Saturday, November 1, 2008

Tucker.

I really don't know at what point my dog became a dog. I dreamed of this dog for years. It took begging, pleading, crying to get my parents to let me have him. My Golden Retriever I had named before he was conceived.
I dog sat for his parents. When his mother got pregnant with his litter I would talk to her belly. I would tell him of all we would do when he was born. The places we would go, the parks, the beaches. It would be lovely. He was one in a litter of 13. I knew him when I saw him (I got first pick of course). He was my Tucker. At 4 days old he sucked my finger. I would go visit every other day until he was old enough to leave his mommy. My parents, who fought so hard for me to not get a dog, brought along his brother. 2 Puppies! But he knew he was mine.
We slept together, we played together. I would come home and he would bounce through grass to meet me. When I was sick he was there with me. My mom tried to get him to come out and eat while I slept, he would not leave my side. He was not a dog, he was my child. My first.
When I started dating my husband first things first, We were a set. He could not have me without my baby. Things got serious, and I would bring Tucker over so he could get used to our new house.
One day while Brad and I were laying on the floor watching a movie Tucker came over and peed on Brad's head. It was PRICELESS. He wanted to know who this guy was with his mommy!
I got pregnant. People told me I would not feel the same about my dog when my baby was born and I blew them off. What do they know? They don't love their dogs like I loved my dog! He will be a big brother. He is a Golden for goodness sake! It is their jobs to love kids.
But things changed. I don't know how or why. But my dog is a dog. I don't take him places. I don't cuddle with him. There are days I forget to feed him. But even after 4 years of being at the bottom of my priority list he still hopes. He hopes that I will play with him. I feel awful that I don't make time for him. I say his name and he come RUNNING from where ever he is with incredible excitement at the invitation of my attention. I do love him. He is good to my kids even though I know he knows they are what came between us.
I need to stop being an ass and be a better mommy to my dog.