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Joan Crawford’s got nothing on me.  Just ask the wee small girl child that lives here with us.  Keelan is 17 and has some unusual ideas of good parenting.  She had a friend drop in to visit her last night about 9:30 and she and this other little girl sat in here, (the riff-raff room…where the teenagers hang out at my house) and visited and talked and giggled.  The usual.  Then at about 10:00 I came in here and talked to them.  Keelan popped up and  said that she was thinking about going camping.  Oh.  OK, with (insert friend’s name here)?  Well, yes.  With her.  “When?” I ask.  “Right now.”  After playing 20 questions like this to the tune of 136 questions I finally gathered that her friend had gone to the Texas City dike in a camper with another friend of theirs that I have never even met and said friend’s parents.  She had just left the camp site to “go home and catch a shower”.  So the thinking here is that she will swing by at 10:00pm and pick up Keelan and take her to spend the night with her and all these other people that I have never even met.  When I told Keelan that I would have to talk to them on the phone I got the response I was looking for, cause there was no way she was going.  She did all the requisite stomping, whining, and fuming, explaining that it was stupid to do that and totally embarrassing to her and “How COULD I?”  Etc. And then, per normal procedure, she said, “FINE!  I just won’t go!”  To which I said, “Fine.”, and was secretly very smug.

Now who’s a bad mom and who’s a clever mom?  OK, in the name of justice I guess I should add, who’s a bad, clever, mom?  I think I am a badass clever mom.

In other world shaking news, my dear brother of Squidspot fame has relocated an award I recieved a good while back from my good friend Trannyhead over at Law School Sucks, and so do lawyers.  It is now in the sidebar as it should be.  I really should stay on top of these things, but, alas, my housekeeping, er… “skills” are carried on over to my blogdom.  Such is life.  I am not going to complain cause hey, he got it done.  Yea, Cam!

I finally put up the new tie rack that my pop made and Mither and Auntie-Poo brought with them when they came to visit last week. No more ties on the floor! I can’t wait until John gets home and sees! Now he owes me-big time!

Behold! The Wall O’ Ties.

Well, I didn’t post all weekend and I usually do, at least once. John is on vacation and we are trying to knock out some of these household projects. Yesterday we rented a Rug Doctor and shampooed the girls rooms, upstairs hall, stairs, living room rug and our bedroom carpet. That is every bit of carpeting and rugs in the house. Oh, and I even gave the upholstery attachment a try on the chairs in the living room. It worked great! The younger piglet daughter’s room was by far the worst. Mostly because she is guilty of sneaking her wee, small dog up there for sleepovers and not getting up in time to let her out. This particular dog has always had a tough time holding her pee and so… she doesn’t. And her owner just decided she was tired of cleaning it up and there were several pee places that just disappeared and several large soda spills AND a huge-ass milkshake (I’m guessing) of some sort spill. All gone. I feel really good about the carpeting in this house now and hey, isn’t that what it’s all about. Can I hear an “AMEN”?

John went out this morning and got two new ceiling fans and a track light for over the fireplace so H can read her paper without the lamp that should be back behind our chairs, that we need cause hey, our eyes are old and crippled too. The old track light blew up or something, and now we’ve got this shiny new one. Halleluiah! The ceiling fans are because the old ones in the L.R. and breakfast area have shorts in the light kits that we have tried over and over to fix and they just can’t be. So I guess I know what we’re going to do today. Oh, that and torture groom the hairy dog in the backyard.

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This is an actual conversation I overheard between two dust bunnies in my house. Imagine Cheech and Chong style “accents”, cause, Yes. they are that rowdy.

Hey, dude! Roll on over here and pile up with me!

Duuuude! I’m on my way!

Yeah, just a tiny bit bigger and we can make a whole new dog!

I’m pretty sure we’re smarter than these dogs.

Yeah, it won’t be long and we can take over this whole household. We’ve just gotta hide behind a piece of furniture and if that crazy-bitch looks back there she pretends she doesn’t see ya. It’s when you break free and go rolling across the floor that you get noticed.

What about that man, dude?

Naww, he’s too tired when he gets home to be picking up anything off the floor. As a matter of fact I’ve noticed that he seems in the business of leaving things on the floor. The crazy-bitch keeps doing these deep sighs and shooting him evil glares.

What about the old lady?

Dude, she’s blind as a bat. She thinks she’s living in a freakin’ palace!

Yeah, well she’s got hot and cold running crazy-bitch. They fooled her into thinking it!

Those girls though. What about them? Do they pose any kind of threat?

Are you kidding me? They live upstairs and while they are very rarely seen down here, I hear they have an entirely different breed of dust bunny upstairs. Carpet dust bunnies.

Dude, I’ve heard those are fierce!

Yeah, well, they’re breeding them big upstairs…

At this point I just stopped listening. I mean hey, I’ve heard it all before.

I have to confess that yesterday I got caught up in an unusual place to find a romance novel, well for me anyway. The Pioneer Woman has a gripping saga on line of how she and her Marlboro Man met and married. She is crafty with the words that little lady. Go on over to and see Confessions of a Pioneer Woman and get caught up on a very interesting, touching story. Or as Pioneer Woman likes to say, if you’re looking for an excuse to take a cold shower…

Anyway, I spent the majority of the time I should have been accomplishing domestic crap, reading. Gotta get high behind today. OH! Wait a minute, no I don’t! It’s Sunday and that’s all the excuse I need today! Hell, it could be hours or even DAYS till we all run out of clean underwear!

This reminds me of The Great Underwear Fiasco of 1996, as it is called by my friend, Lisa and myself. John ran completely out of clean underwear one morning when getting ready for work, which you wouldn’t think was that big of a deal. You’d be wrong.

I had recently thrown a few old raggedy pairs out and hadn’t bought any new ones yet and so the stack of skivvies was a little low anyway, but, I really just hadn’t gotten around to doing laundry…in a timely manner. John was having a really bad morning and had just plain gotten up on the wrong side of the bed and he just kinda lost it and was having a little fit at me about not having clean underwear. It was one of those things that was so blown out of proportion and over dramatized by John that as mad and irate as he was, I wanted to laugh so bad just because he was being so silly. But, that would have made things much worse. So of course as soon as he left even before he had the chance to call and apologize for being an ass and yelling at me, I called Lisa and we laughed hysterically over the whole exchange. The day went down in infamy.

Hot Mama over at Law School Sucks and so do lawyers, has a post today that I sooo relate to that I feel the need to expound upon it.

We have lived in this house for three and a half years and the list of things to do have grown and grown. And, of course, none of them are cheap.

I like to think that we are pretty easy on our domiciles, but the fact remains that none of these things were wrong when we moved in. This house might as well have been brand new. It was in pristine condition. Fresh paint inside and out, new carpet upstairs and down, everything worked perfectly and nothing was broken. Oh. Well, there is one ceramic tile in the kitchen that has a hairline crack in it that you can barely see. That is the only thing that is preexisting. I do think that the lights on the ceiling fans that we are having trouble with are nothing that we did. The wiring is just shitty and both of them, living room and breakfast room, have shorts and flicker on and off.

The front door is getting weathered and is peeling, needs refinishing.

The leaded glass in it has some broken places.-(thanks to one of Keelan’s dumb-ass friends)

The sprinkler system has a broken valve thingy.

The hot tub has two broken jets.

The carpet in the master bedroom needs cleaning. (The upstairs isn’t getting done until the pigs girls move out. I know when to cut my losses.)

At this point the liquor cabinet is depleted.

The hood vent in the kitchen is kaput. That means no one can burn anything cause we are limited in our ability to export smoke. So, like, there is no cooking going on cause, hey, we burn things on a regular basis.

When we have hurricane force winds, (remember I live down here by Houston, deep up in the armpit of Texas), there is a leak around the atrium window.

We desperately need sand in the backyard, and some in the front. The ground is uneven and holds water that I would really rather run off to my neighbors’ yards. (I AM TOO A GOOD NEIGHBOR!)

The liquor cabinet needs….redecorating.

Speaking of liquor cabinet… The sink in the wet bar is very slow to drain.

My closet would look much better if I had a new wardrobe.

Come to think of it, the floors wouldn’t look that bad or even need sweeping if I had freshly pedicured feet to look at on them. I mean, really, who would even notice the floors if my feet looked fab?

The light track over the fireplace, and more importantly over where H sits in her wheelchair while reading the paper, just stopped working. For no apparent reason at all. We got a new wall switch and swapped it out and changed the bulbs and everything else you can think of that was cheap. No. Must have new light track.

That is all I can think of right now. There is a more extensive list, (if you can believe that), living on John’s Palm.

I am in a cranky mood and everything is getting to me today. Stuff that I usually just ignore. I took H in to use the bedpan and when I was leaving the room she said, “I’ve got my bell here, I’ll call you when I’m done.” I felt like yelling, “Of course you’ve got your bell! I have never hidden you bell! That is where your bell lives and it is always there! Yes, I know the drill because for three and a half years I have been depositing you on the bed pan and getting you off when you ring the bell. I KNOW YOU ARE GOING TO RING THE BELL WHEN YOU ARE DONE! WHY MUST YOU ANNOUNCE IT AS IF I DON’T KNOW THE RULES TO THE GAME AND HAVE NEVER PLAYED BEFORE. ARE YOU AFRAID I AM GOING TO RUN IN HERE AND YANK YOU OFF THE POT MID-SHIT? CAUSE, HEY LADY, I CAN ASSURE YOU THAT THAT IS THE EXACT KIND OF MESS THAT I HATE TO CLEAN UP AND I WILL DO WHATEVER I CAN TO KEEP IT FROM HAPPENING! YOU COULD MAKE THE GAME SOOOO MUCH MORE ENJOYABLE BY RESPECTING THE FACT THAT I KNOW WHAT I’M DOING AND AM NOT A COMPLETE MORON. not completely.

Then I went upstairs and…eh, “picked up” my 17 year olds room. I took out a metric ton of trash and threw the duvet up on the bed and piled up all the clothes she needs to sort through to determine clean/dirty. Some stuff was still carefully folded, (by ME), and other stuff was obviously worn. Not my problem. But I basically got the room ready to be organized. I might point out that she has had another little girl living here with her for a couple of weeks and that has significantly added to the mess problem. This chick is not going to be here for that much longer and the room had better not ever get in this condition again.

But, anyway, she and same girl came flouncing in after school and trotted their happy asses up stairs to change clothes for work and trotted back down and left and NEVER SAID ONE WORD TO ME. NOT “HI.” NOT, “BYE.” NOT, “KISS MY ASS.” NOTHING.

Today is my birthday and the little brat didn’t even wish me happy birthday. I may kill her, clean up her room, and take it over for…something, for me. Yes. That’s the new plan.

For months this has been the perpetual state of my dining room table, I mean ALL THE TIME. Kessa is living larger than life in here and it always looks like a drunken librarian threw up all over my table and then exploded, leaving book guts all over the place, including the floor against the wall.

Oh stop. You know it could happen.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 


The very best part of finally getting around to changing the sheets on the bed for the first time in six months, (Calm down, Mom! Just kidding!), is the anticipation of the luscious, smooth softness that calls to me all day. Promising to be soooo comfy and sweet smelling. That 500 thread count, dog hair free, Egyptian cotton will definitely be the very best nights sleep in, oh, I dunno, 6 months. (Mom, remain calm!)

Imagine my disappointment upon waking at 4:30 this morning and not being able to go back to sleep.

Life can be so unfair.

I have an OCD problem. But, here’s the deal. Only with laundry. I am extremely anal about washing, drying folding and putting away clothes. All my towels are perfectly folded in thirds and placed exactly symmetrically on top of each other. As are washcloths. (And all towels and sheets are washed on Hot), Panties, all folded exactly the same way. (Delicates washed in Cold.) Socks folded together and placed in the drawer in rows. I think this may be hereditary because while my mom was never “quirky” about it she did, and does hang clothes in her closet in order by color. (Separated, of course, by tops and bottoms. Can’t mix those things up or, well, I guess they mate or something….I dunno.) Anyway, I am fairly slob-like, though only on occasion, otherwise. My house is neatish, but not perfect at all. Things are out here or there. But I dare anyone to open a linen closet or clothes closet of mine or John’s or Henrietta’s and find anything out of place. I try as hard as I can not to have to venture into the girls closet domain. That is one scary place and we are all happier just not participating in that clean up. I know I am.

I would never have though it would be such a huge undertaking to get all the little dog beds and pillows and whatnot washed and dried and put back on their structures. I usually just do one or two at a time, but I just decided to do it all as they were all hairy and gross and I FINALLY SWEPT THE FLOOR. Now things are going to go back to normal soon. In the meantime it is hysterical watching the dogs wander around aimlessly looking perfectly forlorn and homeless. They cannot figure out what to do with themselves. I am so eeeeeevile.