(do blow up that pic and check out the turkey face)
If I were a Pilgrim, I would wear pilgram hat, breeches, garters.
I would live in Plymouth.
I would like to hunt. Catch fish.
My life would be different than it is today because boys don't wear dresses.
i know, i know...plagiarising my son's school work does not count as blogging. but c'mon, it's all i've got, so it's all you get. plus, though an afterthought, felt sure ya'll would like to see the holidays through the eyes of seven year old. tigers and men in dresses? it ain't the holiday of yesteryear.
why did the chicken stalk the investment adviser?
no, it's not a joke. it's a serious question.
this is henry. apparently he thinks we are the proverbial hens in his hen house. he showed up a month ago. from where? i don't rightly know. this is a one horse town, no one ever mentioned the chicken.
he paces back in forth in front of our door all day long. sometime after lunch, he fattens up and squats down and takes a chicken nap with his head tucked under his wing right in front of my door.
weird thing is, i find myself talking to him. my dog has been gone too long. i've digressed to talking to chickens. he knows me when i call him, he's my chicken love, henry.
i have problems.
i'm a very compartmentalized gal. i used to know only two types of people. the people i met through my work all wanted to talk in person or phone about money, so i slated them for the sobering hours of 9-5.then i had my true friends, those who knew and experienced the bile of my existence firsthand, usually by phone, as none of them live nearby. they let me let my hair down and so i gave them evenings and weekends, after the kiddie pies were in bed.
enter the blog world and all goes to shit. it's the time people, there's never enough time. anyhow, what i was trying to get to was, my evening reading, my relaxing past time, my late night getaway and early morning coffee retreat mutated. messed with my natural order.
first, the blogmeets. once you meet people you read? forget about it. my experience with bloggers has been that if you like what you read than just wait til you meet them, you're only getting a sliver. a post a day maybe, if they are fluent, that's still just a glimpse of the bigger picture. plus, in my case, the people experiencing my daily crap are people i didn't know a year ago, including 30 or some odd regular lurky loos that i'll likely never know. wtf? how did that happen?
second, once your bloggers become your friends, and your friends keep up with you via your blog, you're kind of married to it, aren't you? i keep hearing from live bodies, pressures about the blog.HINT: no mentioning shoe's secret alias or double secret hideaway in the real world. natural order meet jambalaya. ya'll, i told you i can't commit, didn't i? i can't commit. the more i need to blog the less i want to, cause i don't want it to ever be a job, like a marriage. there you go.
so once your past time morphes into your primetime, what do you do with everything else? good questions deserve answers. i have to run now and go catch up with all my scrumptious cyber peeps. never enough time with you, never enough time.
my desire to protect my child from the evil bureaucrats at the elementary school is boiling up like bile in the back of my throat. the boy is smart, aight? the chatty cathy is just a side effect, deal with it.
sure, there's ritalin in our future. but you, miss teacher poo, get an "f" as in fuct for following the instructions. stick to the guidelines, baby, or feel the wrath of a psychotic overworked and underpaid mommy.
true, "so he works with numbers, does he? i'd like a job like that someday."
ahh, my son longs for a future in odd jobs. makes a mama proud.
you know what i like about that? it's infectious capitalistic grip. this is the most ripe economy in the history of the world. i read that u.s. companies grossed over a trillion dollars in earnings last quarter for the first time in history.
with all the constant negativity in our media and our pandering politician spokespersons, it's sometimes easy to lose sight of reality. we are targets for a reason. freedom means free enterprise which leads to wealth. it's good to be an american, today more than ever.
i'm sick of all the attacks on wealth. it is the american way, nothing to be ashamed of. watching our politicians trying to stick themselves all over big oil for profiting makes me nauseous. anybody in their right mind had full access to purchase those companies a year ago and enjoy the same profits. ridiculous.
suck it up, people. in a free economy you have no one to blame but yourself. opportunity is what we make it. sure, it's risky, it's demeaning at times, but it's rewarding. put your money where your mouth is. act american. invest in yourself.
and, i meant for the title to be about blowing your own horn, but blow me just sounds better, so there.
Koenig Burnet Pedernales reimar's draught house Leakey Gruene chou chope
Kay-nig Burn-it Purr-duh-nah-less rhymer's draft house lake-ee Green shoe shop
miss you, blog bretheren. mini meet firming up in SA for january?? drop me an email at chouchope at gmail if you're planning on coming.
it's my birfday. i'm OOOOOOOOoooooolllllld, so don't freakin ask.
and Army & Navy teams, congrats!! you already surpassed your goal..nice!!
seriously, even the bodies i dumped far beyond the state line turned up in austin. not that i'm bitter, no not at all. it's just that austin used to be my town, and now it's my past.
this weekend, i'll be hosting my own little carnival of chaos. ex number one, my college sweetheart, has invited me to the texas kansas football game on saturday. you know i can't say no to longhorn football, people. ex number three, his roommate, will also be in attendance. ex number two, is moving to big d so we are having a going away party friday night. and the big ex, the outlaw, the one i unmarried, is keeping the kids so i'll get to see him twice. joy of joys, being above the fray ain't normally my stronghold, but i will let you know how i fare.
and then on saturday night, i will come home with the lovely little debbie. we are planning a hunter's weekend outing, drowning all our sorrows in camo and cowboys, as it should be. little debbie will be checking out farriers and i will be looking for my next ex.
sounds lovely, perhaps i am bitter.
the life of a fairy isn't quite what you would think. not at all magical. not at all whimsical. very serious business being a procurer of lost body parts. especially baby teeth, those suckers are teeneeny.
being in the black market teeth trade, you need to keep your wits about you. which means lavish living should be tabled for the peak tooth letting season. i failed miserably at this primary objective of toof fairies this past week.
as if two car accidents and a weeks worth of pain pills wouldn't be mind numbing in themselves, i had the extreme fortune to see Willie Nelson play thursday night at Floore's Country Store. not only is this a historic artist venue combination here in central texas, it's also a venue i had never been to prior. good times.
wild mixed audience at a willie show. teenagers to old folks, hippies to cowboys, it ain't your normal american segregation going on down at a willie show, he draws all kinds. saw a couple grinding away on each other dirty dancing style to "i'll fly away." fuck people, i'm just not as open minded as i used to be.
glad we stood to the right of the stage. had a good view of willie and the bar that served canned shiners was directly behind us. i had never seen a canned shiner in all my texas travels, this was a first. yellow beer. it was spoetzel.
perhaps a bad idea what with the pain killers and hour drive home. thank god i wasn't driving, but it was my rental car and we saw multiple deer. i paid off the babysitter and hit the hay at 2 am.
awoke in a panic. true lost a tooth at school thursday. i realized this around 6 am on 4 hours of sleep and took off for the kitchen. found the tooth fairy payola bag and began searching for a sacajawea dollar. shit, shit. true will be up any second and no sacajawea in the house. i'm fuct.
ransacked true's backpack in search of the tooth. we've lost several. the school sends them home in these plastic tooth shaped boxes. then after true shows it to a few dozen kids at school, it almost always disappears. however, this time, i couldn't find the tooth shaped box or the dollar. double fuct. and not enough sleep. i rushed around. it was unproductive.
finally robbed true's own bank where i found what i'm sure was his last tooth payment. surely the only sacajawea in the house. i'm evil, i'm going to lose my children, i'm the lowest filth on the planet. i'm a lazy ass fairy who steals from little kids, a nasty regifting pixie. too drugged up to fly, too cranky to care.
i shoved that sacajawea in the bag and stuffed it under true's pillow. and just as i did, true opened his eyes and said "hi, mommy." ugh, i'm not your mommy, kid. i'm a terrible person. you don't want to know me, trust me.
true jumped out of the top bunk and ran to the restroom. i walked to the doorway and asked true if he had a good time with the babysitter. he said yes and then i asked him if he got to show her his tooth he lost, cause i had looked everywhere when i got home last night, but i couldn't find it, so i never saw his lost tooth.
"uh, i put it under my pillow!" said true sarcastically from behind the bathroom door. "do you think the tooth fairy brought me a golden dollar?"
oh shit, i took off running for the boys' room. true came flying out of the bathroom my hand went under the pillow and true threw the pillow off the bed and grabbed the dollar. i have no idea if he saw me retrieve the tooth. he seemed pretty blinded with greed, but i was groggy to say the least. i really don't know.
i am going to have to focus. priorities, people. the mother of all fantasy holidays is coming. i'm pretty dull on my duties of late. time to buckle down. straighten up and fly right and all that.
wish me luck
if man is 5..then the devil is 6. if the devil is 6, then god is 7 --this monkey's gone to heaven.absolutely, what a ride.
true turned seven this morning at 9:15 am. the day that changed my world for better forever.
celebrated with a costume party on sunday afternoon with a few of his friends. noticed that seven must be the optimum age for boys, innocence intact. when his friend daniel b showed up, true and matthew gang hugged him, jumping around in circles chanting, "oh, i love you daniel b." it was so sweet, and kinda sad. won't be long til the homophobia sets in and all that untortured free preteen love will be stomped on out fer good.
had massacred melted lego cake for his birthday breakfast. i made it saturday night, stored it in the oven. woke up sunday and preheated the oven to make breakfast. melted all the icing off. it was ugly, but as such, has become a bit of a tradition in our house. true's friends thought it was cool anyway, and true said i was the best mommy in the world. beat that with your storebought cake.
had kind of blogmeet rules forming throughout the party.no talking about underpants. no wrestling. no screaming like crazy fruitcakes. even got to take a pic of true and his buddies geeking out on the keyboard. true had to show his friends where he counts. it's just a word document, he's on 609. you'd think they were surfing porn, mouths all agape, "609?? how'd you do that?"
so my baby is seven and i'm OLD but i'm surviving. life is good, so very very good. happy birfday, true blue!!
oh, and, i love you daniel b