Turd Grabbers

During my recent Mrs. Kravitz moment as I watched my neighbors teaching their little boy how to ride a bike, I couldn't help but notice at least five people going by the house walking their dogs. I've been known to stare out my window for long periods of time. It's part of my fat ass problem.
The dog walkers all strolled past at various times and in various shapes and sizes, but all with one thing in common, a filled poop bag. The way they all confidently walked past my house you could tell they were skilled, seasoned dog walkers. They have a certain air about them as they saunter by with a leash in one hand and swinging a bag of poop in the other. For those of you that do not have a dog to walk, let me explain to you how the poop gets in the bag.
It's somewhat of an art form. Since a dog will crap just about anywhere, owners must always be on the ready for turd removal. They take their plastic bag and stick their hand in it. Grab the turds with just that thin layer of plastic between their hand and the doo doo. With a single motion they will swoop those turds into the bag, turning it inside out and tie a knot in the bag, securing the turds and smell neatly in the bag of their choice, continuing merrily on their way in less than a minute.
They are an elite group of turd grabbers, for this is not an easy task. Getting it all in one felt swoop requires skill. Not dropping a single turd requires concentration and patience. So when you see a turd grabber walking down the street, give them a nod of encouragement, they have skills beyond ours, they are good at what they do and they are keeping the community poop free.

Just Call Me Fat-Ass

Because it's only a matter of time before it's true. Half the summer is gone and I've done far less strenuous activities than previous summers. I've gone to the pool but I find myself napping instead of swimming and that might explain the uneven-ness of the tan this year. An even tan is a full-time job, it isn't easy.
I blame EntreCard and blogging.
I fear I may be setting a poor example for the dog. She likes to follow me around, she's found a comfortable spot near my computer. The both of us will have an ass the size of a bus if we continue down this lazy path of inactivity. We're going on a walk tonight, as soon as I finish these Reese's Cups.

The Carcass in the Driveway

You have to wonder what's got to happen to a chipmunk that it would just keel over dead in your driveway. The possibilities are endless but I've narrowed it down to two that are not necessarily correct but amusing.
Heart attack? Did it's heart finally give out after digging too many holes in my flower beds? Or with my active imagination and the fact that I watch way too much television, did someone put it there? You know with a Luca Brasi swims with the the fishes kind of warning. Does a dead chipmunk have some sort of meaning in the world of organized crime?
Now to the matter at hand, I never have and never will take an active part in dead animal disposal. With three boys and a husband I shouldn't have to. So when Boy #3 informed me of the chipmunk carcass in the driveway I said, "Ewwwwwwww."
Then, "How are you going to handle this honey?"
He settled on a triple WalMart bag, the dogs pooper scooper, duct tape and rubber bands. That dead chipmunk isn't going anywhere.

Double Secret Probation

I put the dog on double secret probation last night. If you look closely at the picture you can see what my comforter use to look like, before the dog ripped all the stuffing out of the hole she tore down the middle of my comforter that matches my curtains. The hole is completely through and there was a small garbage bag full of the cotton stuffing all over my side of the bed. My side of the bed, because amazingly enough the husband was asleep when the dog decided to kill my comforter. While I was at it, I put him on double secret probation too.
"I guess I have to buy you a new comforter, huh?"
"Oh yeah, this is going to cost you."
The dog is so lucky she's cute.

Careless Screw-Up

If I'm not careful, I'm going to be looked upon as a careless screw-up. My children will start nursing home shopping earlier than they should have to, my husband might take my checkbook away, work might put me in the basement office and mom and dad will change the will.
Last week I ate leftovers that were leftover too long, missed a day of work and that's about all I'm willing share about that horrific day. Sunday I stayed at the pool to long and now I'm beet-red, the peeling should start in a couple day. That's going to be attractive. I almost missed Father's Day. I thought it was 2:00 and it was 3:00, made the mistake of telling mom that. So I showed up at the door with a Father's Day present and a can of baked beans.
After I stop glowing, I'll have to redeem myself somehow.

Office Exterminator

I amused my co-workers today. Innocently, I brought in the mail as usual. Much to my surprise the object I saw out of the corner of my eye hanging from the catalogs and envelopes was not an object but a spider hanging from part of it's web I dislodge from the mailbox. Here's where the co-workers started to laugh, well after my yelp they did. The spider shimmied up it's web and rested on a catalog. This is when the discussion ensued. How does Sue get rid of her unwanted desk mate? Nothing like, "Here let me do it."
The best advice I received was, "Use these scissors and move the catalog, the spider will fall to the ground and then step on it."
So crazy it might work.
Only when it started to fall, it stopped in mid-air because of the whole web shooting thing that spiders are capable of. (you've seen Spiderman, you know what I'm talking about)
Being the quick thinker that I am and ready to kill anything that crawls near me, I cut the web with my scissors, the spider fell to the ground and I stepped on it. Then I waved my hands around like a moron. I'm quite certain that this scene will not be forgotten soon by my co-workers. The story got around the office and shop pretty quick. I can only hope that I'm not thought of as the office exterminator, I really don't want to do that again.

Excuse Me? Where's The Midol?

Is it just me? Can WalMart make it a little easier to find the Midol? I had a long list when I walked into WalMart yesterday, but the first thing on it was Midol. I couldn't find it. My aggravation level grew at an alarming rate. Chocolate was going to be piled high in that cart later. Frustrated and ready to ask just about anyone the where abouts of the Midol, I heard the pharmacy chain-link garage door going down. Dear God they're closing and the knowledge I sought, closing with them.
"Excuse me? Hello?" I waved my hand grasping for someone to notice me. I grabbed the attention of a woman and yelled, "Where's the Midol?" And didn't care who heard me. She actually came out of the chain-link pharmacy cage and took me to my relief. On the bottom shelf for goodness sakes!

Pre-Marriage Advice

Mom sat me down before I got married and said, "Honey?"
Oh God.
"When your husband asks you what you want....."
How do I stop her?
"You make sure you tell him jewelry. Don't let him buy you a set of beer mugs for Christmas. Always, always say jewelry."

Feeling like I dodged a bullet, the conversation really didn’t register until the morning of our first Christmas together. After opening my presents I realized what mom was trying to tell me. Ask for jewelry and you won’t get his and her beer mugs from your husband.

Things Left Unsaid

By the title of this post it almost looks like I'm going to get sappy. Not my style. After reviewing some of my previous posts, I've come to the realization that I left a few things up in the air. Like for instance:

1. My mom didn't get mad at me for shopping for a bra without her, but did get mad at me for blogging about it.
2. The Prom went off with hardly a hitch. The tuxedo looked exactly like last years, but with a blue vest instead of pink. I forgot to order a corsage and had to buy one that was made by mistake.
3. I'm still smiling at my new job.
4. Boy #3's "analyzed knee fluid" show some sort of trauma, in other words, he hurt it but doesn't want to tell me how he did it.
5. Someone stole some of my birthday chocolate and I think it was the damn diabetic. Mommy's babies know better - it was him.

There you have it. A recap of previous post. I'm pretending not to notice that no-one really commented to find out how things turned out. I'm sure you guys are really busy.

The Complete Grandma Look

I’m just not as excited about summer wear as I use to be. It’s an age thing. Specifically those little purple veins on my legs. My shorts are getting longer year after year. So I’m going to get a few pairs of 511 Tactical Shorts because they have a lot of pockets. Maybe I’ll be able to fill the pockets with some of the junk I carry in my purse and lighten that load that’s weighing down my left shoulder and while I’m at it I might as well tuck a tissue in my sleeve and complete my grandma look.

Let the Partying Begin

I say bring it on baby! We have some kind of a party scheduled every weekend for the rest of the summer. Thank God for a steady paycheck. May is an expensive month in our family, so we've put a ban on anymore events taking place in May. No weddings are allowed to take place in the month of May and pregnancies must be planned carefully. It had to be done or we're going to have to start putting up a Christmas tree May 1st.
June traditionally the month of graduation parties, is also filled with bridal showers and a 50th anniversary party. All I can do is hope for plenty of alcohol being served at each and every one of the parties we have to misfortune of being invited to.
The boys have conspired against us, one is getting married this summer, one is graduating and one is learning to drive. I'll be selling a kidney by August.

Did I say misfortune of being invited to? Rather harsh especially since I'm having parties of my own this summer. Disregard that statement!

Crackle, Whoosh, Thud

I'm hip to the sound a tree makes when it falls. Because the trees in are neighborhood are, for lack of a better word, whimpy. So when I heard the unmistakable sound of crackle, whoosh, thud, my first thought was, "Oh please let it be my neighbors tree."
Very insensitive of me, but all the neighbors were saying that to themselves. The thought of spending, what was turning out to be a very lazy weekend, on the phone with insurance companies, tree removal and contractors didn't appeal to me in the least.
This post can remain somewhat humorous because no one was under the tree. And it wasn't my tree. When I looked out the front door there was a tree strategically place across the street and the neighbors were starting to gather.
"Anyone call 911 yet?"
There were some blank stares and heads shaking no.
"I'll do it." I'm a take charge kind of person and I've called 911 more times then I've cared too.
I told the 911 operator my street name and she said, "Fallen tree across street and no one hurt?"
"Yep."
"We're already on it."
I put my sweatshirt on and congregated with the neighbors, some of us hadn't seen each other since last fall, so it was nice to catch up.
A tree across the main road in a development needs to be removed immediately. You know in case anyone has a heart attack or falls into our lake, an ambulance needs to be able to drive through. The first to arrive was one policeman and a chainsaw. Boy #2 informed me later that he was using the chainsaw wrong and it could have kicked back at him. As the policeman cut pieces of the tree off, the neighbors all jumped in to clear the street. It's great to have good neighbors. And I stood their wondering if I had time to get my camera to take a picture for when I blog about this. I didn't want to spoil the moment of neighborhood camaraderie, so I stayed put, didn't want to miss any gossip either.

Brain Cells, The Weather and Super Human Powers

It seems I have my brain bursitis again. My weather changing gauge in my head. It's somewhat annoying, because really, I don't need a headache to tell me it's going to rain. We have weathermen for that and clouds. It is kind of cool though that I got the husband up early to cut the grass. I have to use these special powers only for good.
I am a little concerned for my precious brain cells, so few of them in there, I don't want to lose any active ones and the kids have been zapping at them for years. I'm making a conscious effort to eat more tuna, fish is brain food.
Since starting my new job I've been spreading the brain cells rather thin. Using some for work, then when I get home I put a few on stand by. That can be dangerous, because when making spaghetti last week I forgot to put the meatballs in the sauce. That was a disappointing dinner.
See how this post took on a life of it's own? I have to figure out a way to evenly distribute my brain powers to save the brain cells, either that or learn how to shoot fire balls out of my finger tips. I've always wanted to do that..............

My Birthday Haul!

This birthday today has made me realize that my children actually listen to me. Maybe they have selective hearing but they know what mommy wants! I have, as you can see in the picture, an ample supply of chocolate and a container of Fuel Injection Cleaner. Boy #3 knows the way to a happy mom is to keep her chocolate stash well stocked. Boy #2 remembers a conversation we had in the car one day about my gas hog SUV. Boy #2 also brought home a hanging flower basket. Boy #1 brought me a hanging flower basket for the other side of the porch and a gift card, so I can buy some clothes for work. My love of chocolate does not go unnoticed by my parents either, today they stopped over with a chocolate covered strawberry as big as my fist.

My brother, on the other hand, one ups his birthday cards for me every year. I should have been meaner to him when he was shorter than me.

The front of the card from my dear brother says, Happy Birthday Mom.................
On the inside it says, Oops!! I mean Sis!!! Every year it gets harder and harder to tell you two apart.

His birthday is not until December, but I will be starting my search for the perfect card now.


I hauled in some good presents this year, being close to Mother's Day is a plus, double presents. I went out with my gift cards today, BY MYSELF, and bought a new pair of jeans for Casual Friday, three tops, a pair of pants and new shoes. I'm going to have to go bra shopping again, because these two black with red pin strip bra's are going to show through some of my spring/summer wardrobe.

And the presents keep coming! As I was editing this post the wonderful husband came home with a dozen chocolate covered strawberries. He made them himself at his sisters house. I'm probably not going to fit in the new clothes I just bought.

Hey Mom? Does This Look Right To You?

"One knee twice it's size, no honey, it doesn't look right. What the hell did you do?"
"Nothing."
"Let me guess. You were just standing there?"
'I was just standing there' is the is the standard response when I ask, 'What did you do?' I should know better by now, try to mix up my standard questions.

Boy #3 and I spent the late afternoon yesterday at the doctors office. Now with three boys, I've seen my share of "procedures" but fluid extraction from a knee was a first for me. Pretty cool. The normal color of "knee fluid" is yellowish/greenish. That's what the doctor told me. There was no blood in it so that was a plus. The fact that Boy #3 has no idea what happened and feels no pain has the doctor puzzled, hands on his hips, eyebrows scrunched puzzled. So the "knee fluid" is on it's way to the lab and we get to go to the orthopedic surgeon Friday.
I tried like hell to get the appointment with the cute orthopedic surgeon that my mother-in-law goes to but couldn't get in, damn!

All This And a Smile

I've been receptionisting the hell out of my new job. Trying to wrap my brain around invoices, receivers, statements and purchase orders. Ordering lunches, learning extensions, giving directions to truck drivers. Keeping everybody on schedule and making sure they get their mail. All this with a smile on my face.
I never knew I had it in me.
The smiling part I mean.
I'm getting behind on my blogging and for that I am sorry. But I am getting into a routine, so the laughter will be along shortly!

Like Father, Like Son

Before we venture off Tuxedo shopping, I'm making dinner. Boy #2 asked if the girlfriend could eat over. "Of course!" I said, "but we're having baked potatoes."
Blank stare.
"She doesn't like baked potatoes honey."
"She doesn't? How do you know?"
"Oh I don't know, I could have got the information off of My Space or maybe I actually listen to her when she talks to me."

This conversation with the "chip off the ol' block" had me reminiscing back in the day when this sort of thing would have bothered me. I was pregnant with Boy #1 and we were applying for life insurance. The husband gave our insurance agent all our information and the insurance agent called me to verify my social security number. He then asked, "Can I ask you, are you really 5'10" and 105 pounds?"
"Wow, the mental picture you must have of me. I'm 5'6" and seven months pregnant."
"Nuff said. Thank you very much for your time."

Prom 2008

Tomorrow Boy #2, the girlfriend, the checkbook and I go shopping for a Prom Tuxedo. I'm more than a little concerned because Boy #2 said, "I got to look good mom." You see they have been voted "cutest couple" by the rest of their class.
Pray for me.......
And my checkbook.

Ice Cream Truck Traffic

How many Ice Cream Trucks does a development need? I've counted three meandering through our neighborhood already and it's only April. They all have a different jingle. I get one jingle unstuck in my head and another one comes around the corner. I heard two jingles going at the same time, looked out the window and saw an Ice Cream Truck parade. Does this mean my development looks like we have money? Does the number of Ice Cream Trucks strolling through ones neighborhood determine ones affluence? We must be rich!

Stories in my Head

Saturday, April 19, 2008 in Northeast Ohio, it's a balmy 78 degrees and I stopped for a piping hot, 24 oz., mocha cappuccino. Because I have no self control over the whole mocha cappuccino at every corner situation. Also when you stop at these gas station/convenience stores, you run into all kinds of people and I can usually make up a story in my head about one or two of them.
Take the man parked next to me. Either I watch to much TV or I need to get a life, but I'm pretty sure he was packing up his canvas bags with provisions for an all night stake out or he had something in his trunk he had to bury and didn't want to stop until he got to the secluded forest he was driving to. Either way, I avoided eye contact with him just to be safe.