Brrringgg......Brrrrddddingggg.... Your Home Planet Is Calling

Oh, yes... my home planet is calling. I hear it beckoning to me all the way from Indiana/Ohio. It's saying, "Come on home girl....". Wait, that's just Heart. Sorry, my bad. It's actually Vera Bradley and she has a very loud voice. The annual Vera Bradley Factory Sale is this weekend in Indiana. As an added bonus, about an hours drive away is the Country Living Fair. ROADTRIP! I get to leave, childless mind you, on Friday morning and return Sunday evening. I am so stoked. My good buddy, Amy will be driving and we will be staying at her dear, sweet sister's house. The best part? Are you sitting down? My hubby is giving me money! Not Monopoly money or the Post money you get in the paper... actual money! With the way the economy has been I should get some huge bargains. I'm thinking Christmas in October. Pictures to follow.

Pray for me, I teach High School home ec. tomorrow.

Here's Your Friggin' Bailout!

So it failed in Congress... amazingly. I was actually hoping the plan to bail out Wall Street, AKA "The Worst Idea Evah", would tank. What is it with politicians? The solution is staring them dead in the face and yet, they can't see it. What is this wonderful solution you ask? Give the money to the CITIZENS. If we were to give each household that filed taxes last year a check for $400,000 it would actually save a couple billion dollars and it would have the added bonus of boosting the financial market. People would pay off their mortgages, especially those facing foreclosure, and they would buy new cars. It's a genius of an idea. So simple. We would stimulate the economy and keep people in their homes. Too bad our ELECTED OFFICIALS are too stupid to figure it out.

Why God Hates Me: And Other Annoyances.

God doesn't like me right now. Maybe it's all the four-letter words I like to drop, maybe it's my attitude, or perhaps He is just having a bad month. Any way your cut it, He hates me. First, I screw up the checkbook. HUGE mistake... SRSLY. Then, we lose the grape-stomp. I hate to lose. Thirdily, the only grade I've gotten to sub for this month is SECOND F-ING GRADE! I HATE second grade. Need further proof that the Big Man Upstairs has it in for me? Fourthily, I didn't get the job with the University. I am a huge loser with no prospects for decent employment, forever destined to be a second-rate, poorly compensated, substitute teacher. GOD HATES ME.

Plan B. I have a plan "B". I was a Girl Scout for all of like five minutes, so I am prepared. I am starting my own clothing business. You heard that right. It's going to have cute little frou-frou frillies for little girls and pretty dresses for fatties like me. I even made a dress form replica of my fatness. You can find the plans for one at this link:

http://www.taunton.com/threads/pages/t00002_p4.asp?

I chose the duct tape one. So far, so good. I'll get to try it out Thursday. Anyhow, I'll be hawking my goodies on ebay under the name of fluffy_stuff08. Check it out in a few weeks.

Please pray to God or whomever you pray to that I 1.) keep my sanity 2.) don't harm any innocent second graders 3.) find peace.

How To Be A Bitch 101

Here's the back story... my youngest daughter took a medication at the age of 20 days that gave her brittle teeth. They break easily and chip frequently. They are not black, but tinged a slight gray. A local dentist, who we had to start seeing because my husband thought driving to Ste. Genevieve to see the competent dentist was too far, drilled and filled my poor little childs teeth. ALL of the fillings crumbled and fell out taking with them my daughter's teeth. Four teeth. Leaving the roots. So, since July we've been to three different special dentists and pediodontists. Yesterday, we drove to Clayton to visit the offices of Accent Dental.

Things were going great. We got there early and were able to get into the office early also. It went downhill from there. The dental assistant *emphasis on the ASSistant* was either having a bad day or teaching a course on how to be a bitch. Either way, I am the WRONG person to pull that crap with. It started off by her asking me if I brush my child's teeth. Well, no, she's almost seven, she brushes them on her own. However, I watch. Then, she rinses with a fluoride rinse that shows her where she missed. She does this at least twice a day and sometimes eight... So the lady snarkily says, "Does she floss?" Hmmm..... No. "Well, why not?" Because, I say, giving her floss is like giving a cat a hand grenade. Neither of them know what to do with it and they are liable to get hurt. She doesn't have a sense of humor.

So, the doctor comes in and we're discussing our plan of action. They talked about putting sealant on her six year molars. I informed them that she had sealant put on her teeth last year... to which the *ASSistant* replied, "I doubt that. I've NEVER heard of schools putting sealant on childrens' teeth." Welll.... just because she hasn't heard of it doesn't make it not true. I am not used to having my credibility or statements questioned. I went on to explain that there was a program in our county called "Smiley Faces" that goes to the school and does this. She still says she's never heard of it. I told her that it's run out of the Missouri Health Initiative. She shoots arrows at me with her mind... then asks me how often my kid drinks soda. Let me think about that one... rarely to never. Oh, what does she drink you ask? There's this great thing called MILK. She also likes WATER and JUICE. She then tells me she's never heard of a child teeth being affected by a medication taken at birth. Damn, this woman is dumb. She then says that my child's problem is the result of tooth decay and possibly baby bottle tooth decay. Funny, my child was breastfed and on a cup by the age of one. Strike three, you're out.

I'm Stomping Grapes Today! (Now with picture-ey goodness!)

Yep, you read that right. I. Am. Stomping. Grapes. It's for charity... weehoo. One of my favorite things and I get to soak mah toesies in it. Of course, the theme is the I Love Lucy episode, "Lucy Makes an Italian Movie". How great is that? It's not even Halloween and I get to play dress-up. I am on a team with two of my friends, Amy and Laura, and we are going to win. Seriously. The other gals in the contest are teensie tiny little real-estate salespeople and frou-frou shop owners. We're big, strapping gals with a lot of stomping power. Now, if I can just keep my wind going and not have an asthma attack... maybe I should take a hit off my inhaler before the contest. It always makes me twitchy and move a lot, or would that be considered "juicing"... haha nice pun.

Anyhow, I will post details about our win later tonight. KTHXBAI!!

Okay.... update.... WE LOST. However we had fun. Enjoy the pics!

Ohio To Ban And Euthanize Pit Bulls... SRSLY

I read this on Jen Lancaster's site today. It's horrible and unfair. If the government can do this, next they'll take your Chihuahua for being ugly and barky. Here's where to send emails and sign a petition: http://www.thepetitionsite.com/1/hb-568-ohio-pit-bull-ban

Here is my email and where to send yours:

district33@ohr.state.oh.us


House Bill 568


First let me start off by saying I have always enjoyed my trips to Ohio, in particular Sandusky, however I am very concerned with your new piece of legislation banning and euthanizing Pit Bulls. As a former Pit owner I can effectively say that there are no bad dogs, only bad owners. As trite and cliched as that may be, it is the truth. If you ban the dogs and euthanize the current Pits residing in your state you are telling the people of your state that they cannot own property deemed "dangerous" by you and the other legislators in yourstate. If you had ever owned one of these horribly dangerous (only to a tug bone) dogs you would know that the stereotype and bad reputation of the dogs is horribly misconstrued. What's next? Cats with bad dispositions? Perhaps poodles who pee on rugs, that is after all unsanitary and possibly lethal... If this bill is passed, I will not spend my hard-earned vacation money in your state and will strongly urge my friends, family and random strangers to follow suit. Please re-think your stance on this.

Thinspiration Or Another Reason To Drink?

I just finished "Such A Pretty Fat" by Jen Lancaster **my favorite author** and I'm not sure if I feel inspired to lose weight or drink Key Lime Martinis... I can think of reasons why I can't diet and make it stick. Here they are ala Bridgette Jones:

1.) I've given birth and my muscles suck... permanently.
2.) The fat pushes out the wrinkles and stretch marks.
3.) I have children for Christ sake and I can't deprive them of cookies.
4.) I have Z-E-R-O willpower.
5.) I like stretchy clothing.
6.) I like being asked when I'm due.

Okay, so maybe these aren't good reasons.

For those following the saga of our heroine, she has not heard anything about the elusive job yet. I jump every time the phone rings, thinking it's them telling me I'm hired. Oh blessed freedom... I keep telling myself that it is counterproductive to get all worked up and stressed out wondering if I got the job or some other undeserving, overqualified biatch did. There were certified teachers applying! For a job that only makes $13.80 per hour! That should be a RED FLAG!! If they can't get or keep a job teaching everyday, it's probably a clear indicator that they won't be so great at teaching nutrition education every day. I mean seriously... think about it.

Well, folks, I'm off to sub today for the freakin second grade... my least favorite grade to teach. I have an alphabet soup class; ADD, ADHD, BD, LD and so forth. Pray that no innocents are harmed. Amen.

How To Kill A Pie

So, this weekend we are celebrating "Moses Austin Heritage Days" in good 'ole Potosi. They have booths, food and contests. One of the contests is a pie baking contest... Being that I am very competitive when it comes to food, I took on the challenge. What kind of pies you ask, well apple pies, custard pies, strange pies and fruit pies. I settled on making an apple pie, a sugar pie and a paw paw pie. (Paw paws are indigenous to North America and are a form of custard apple.) I started by making the sugar pie, very simple just some cream and sugar. Done. I move on to apple. Cut up apples, check... add sugar, check... add cinnamon, check... bake pie, check... drop pie on floor after taking it out of the over, check... crap. We're down one pie. So, I start on the custard pie with paw paws. It turns out great. The sugar pie is done and cool, but ugly... crap. So, I throw Cool Whip on it and eat a slice. I can't have it go to waste. Then, I tell my oldest daughter to put it in the fridge. She drops it on the floor right in front of the fridge. Crap. This morning I got up early and made another apple pie and put meringue on the paw paw custard pie. I hope to win. The prize is $100 a bunch of baking stuff. If I don't I may cry.

At Least I'm Not A Dog In A Parka.

Where do I start? When we last left our heroine, she was preparing for a job interview...

The interview went smashingly! I was on target with all of the questions, I was dressed nicely, I was personable without being overbearing... I walked out of that interview without a single iota of regret. I aced it. Now, hopefully, they will hire me. I would hire me.

So, today was the day from hell. There was banking to tend to, the SO's truck needed the tags updated. I scheduled an inspection at the beginning of the week. I got to the inspection site only to be told to come back at 3:30... seriously. I have kids at 3:30 which totally defeats the purpose of scheduling the inspection for 9:30 AM. I drive across hell's half acre searching for someone to inspect my truck. Inspection complete. I take my little slip of paper to the DMV with my insurance information and checkbook only to be told that my personal property taxes are showing as unpaid. Crap.

I hop in the truck and make my way to the courthouse. They were right, our taxes weren't paid. I know we paid some kind of tax... but it wasn't that one. I go home, defeated. I search through the duplicates of our checks for the last nine months. Lo and behold! there it is! We paid our CITY taxes, you know, the ones we had no idea existed until last year. I race to the school where my husband works, tell him the situation, get the savings book, race back to the bank only to be given attitude by the teller. Who do these people think they are? Seriously. The lady who waited on me is the same one who always waits on me. She's just as rude today as she was last week, month, year... Finally, I get out with money in hand, go to the courthouse and pay the taxes and get the stupid tags. The End. Crappy Day.
Now I'm home and I have a huge headache. I need caffeine. Grandma next door has Pepsi. I love Grandma.

Tomorrow, I have a J-O-B interview.

I haven't really had a regular 40 hour a week job since, well... ever really. I've always stayed at home or worked part-time. This leap into the workforce is frightening and I am filled with apprehension. I can't decide what to wear. I have the di riguer hippie skirt and pima cotton top or the hardly worn plaid dress slacks and a nice beige top. Do I wear my hair up or down? Wait, I don't have hair. Scratch that. I don't want to dress up too much but I don't want to look like a slob. If I get the job, I get an enormous amount of independence from the financial stranglehold my husband has on me. Okay, maybe it isn't a stranglehold, but it isn't fun. I'm reading "Harmonic Wealth" by James Ray and according to him, this job thing is a great idea. Well, wish me luck and pray hard to whomever you pray to.

Claire McCaskil, my daughter McKenzie and myself at the 2005 Governor's Ball. For a Democrat, she's pretty nice.

This is me at the Governor's Ball in January of 2005.
I turned thirty at midnight. Fun party, disappointing
Governor.

Happy Labor Day Folks!

Once again, just like this time every year, it's Labor Day. We have a time-honored tradition of driving an hour to pick up McKenzie, my oldest daughter, from her paternal grandparent's house and that's pretty much it. Exciting huh? This year, we are stopping to pick apples. Yippee!