It gets worse...

So, Steve's working tonight... when I was chatting with him, I told him to check out my blog if he had a sec, to see my 'blog rating'. He clicked on it to check out his rating and, while playing around over there, put my site url in... *now*, I get

Mingle² - Online Dating

This rating was determined based on the presence of the following words:

* poop (5x)
* gay (4x)
* fart (3x)
* hell (2x)
* kill (1x)



Jeez... won't my Mom be proud????

Ok, I promise... I'm done with this ;)

I'm shocked!

Mingle² - Online Dating

This rating was determined based on the presence of the following words:

• bitch (4x)
• shit (3x)
• poop (2x)
• hell (1x)

I'll give ya the other three, but "poop"? My blog got an *R* rating because, in part, I used the word "poop" twice??? WTF????

(I got this link from one of my fav blogs that I read religiously... check it out)

Give a girl a fish, she'll eat for a day. Teach a girl to fish...

... and she'll brag about it 'till the cows come home!!!!

I wasn't actually taught to fish today, my Dad took care of that way back in the day.

I love to fish, usually. I find it relaxing and just plain enjoyable. I haven't fished for years, well over ten. With our love of camping and outdoors-y stuff of late, a new fondness of fishing has been sparked.

I'm really enjoying seeing the kids become interested in it. Today, we loaded up the truck and set off to one of the local lakes for an afternoon just gettin' our hooks wet and to check out the campsites.

Steve recently purchased two Zebco 33 combos for Mac and I. These are the easiest reels to learn (Mac) on and I just plain prefer them... because they are easy.

I like fishing with a bobber the best. I actually prefer live bait (minnows), but I'm learning to respect and appreciate our scaled friends, so I'm sticking with the fakies from now on.

We hadn't been casting for very long when I sent one pretty far out and as the bait and bobber were hitting the water, the fish hopped up and gobbled up my little blue rubber crawdad-looking thing. The bobber went under just as soon as it made contact with the water. It all happened so fast, I was really caught off guard.

But... I got the last laugh, Mr. Fishy... Reeled him in, all the while, the kids and I yelling for Steve because, as much as I love to fish and love catching them even more... I do not take the hook out. I repeat... I do NOT take the hook out. Luckily, I had explained this to my oh-so-chivalrous husband when we first started talking about trying our hands at fishing. So, he gallantly comes running over to save Nemo from his impending fate at my hands. Out comes the hook and I touched him long enough to pose for this pic.

Not to be outdone... Miss Mac followed suit, but wouldn't get close enough long enough to snap a shot with her actually in the frame. Nevertheless, this is her big catch of the day...




Way to go, girls!!!

just when I'm convinced he's not gay

Yes, I'm talking about hubby. DH. Dear Husband. (sometimes) Damn Husband. Steve. The Limey. Love of my life.

I often tease Steve that he must be gay... this man has more decorating finesse than Christopher Lowe (is he even still around?). Can cook and organize a kitchen meaner than Martha. The first time he visited my home, he went out to the garage, found a couple of boxes, off to the fabric, yes, I said fabric, store to get some scraps to drape over the boxes to use as (really cool) end tables. I resigned my position in the kitchen when, after he was here about 6 months, my oldest looked up from a nicely prepared-by-Steve dinner and said, "Mom, do you know how to cook anything that doesn't come out of a box?" (must remember to thank her for that later!)

He and I both laugh and joke about his sexuality quite a bit. We both know that he is 100% straight, but, there are times...

So, last night, we were laying in bed, chatting as we usually do, about to drift off to sleep when The Limey had a bit o' wind. Wait, I stand corrected... a LOT o' wind ('wind' being his polite English term... we know what wind is, but around here, we call it gas, or more bluntly, he ripped a big 'un!). He is, afterall, a guy... they don't hold their bodily functions in very well, as we all know... but, I must say here that he is always, without fail, very polite and always follows a fart or burp with a "Pardon me!" sometimes proceeded with an "Oh, dear!" (see... told ya he's gay!)

Ok, back to last night... farts in bed... apologizes... then, we start giggling. It was a funny fart. We all have those now and again... the ones that just sound so unusual, you just have to laugh. So, we're laughing and I say, "Jeez, we could put you in the middle of an orchestra with that one!".

Now, most hetro men, at this point, would just bask in their windy glory. Laugh a little bit more, then probably fall asleep, only to do it all again, sans the laughing and pardoning, in their sleep. Not my guy...

He says to me, "It wouldn't tune to the A-440." (my apologies to Steve, as I'm sure I got that wrong)

Excuse me? The "A" WHAT???

Then he goes on to explain to me how orchestras tune to the A above middle C... mmm-hmmm... riiiiiight, Honey (he's really startin' to scare me at this point)... Yes. And they use 44o mega hertz. But, usually, pianos can't get to 440 mega hertz because their strings would be too tight, so they go down to 438 or 436...

(this explanation went on for quite a while... he lost me at "orchestras tune").

I love him. I really do love him.

We survived to do it again another day!

Ahhh, camping. Being at one with nature. The outdoors. Pure heaven.

We had our first camping trip last week. I won't bore you with the play-by-play details. I'll just sum it up by saying it was wonderful!

There were many memorable moments, way too many to list. As I'm sure Steve will put together a much better recount, probably from the dog's perspective, I'll just hit a few high points.

Steve and I are still married, and happily at that! I was beginning to worry a bit when at the Father's Day lunch we went to just before we set off, he was laughing as he was saying to my Mother something about putting up tents is just the stuff divorces are made of. I'm happy to report that we set the tent up together and, a few minor tiffs aside, we survived it! I can see what he was talking about, however, but we made it, nonetheless.

Mac adored camping, mostly, the fishing part. We had planned to stay through Wednesday morning, but the Tuesday evening news reported big thunderstorms coming our way for the night and decided that it would be silly to stay just to get rained on (turns out that was the best decision of the entire trip... to say it rained that night is a major understatement). The drive home found her tearful in the backseat because she wanted to fish 'just one more time'. Poor thing. We have since purchased her her own rod and reel and promised her plenty of fishing on the next trip.

She had her usual gripes, which we expected, but they were much more mellow and easier on the soul. She probably complained the most, of the three, of boredom, but she quickly seemed to be able to find things to pass the time.

Mic was typical Mic. Clueless as always, but just a joy to be around. He clung to me quite a bit, wanting simply to hang out with me. We were all down fishing and I wanted to go back up to camp... he insisted on coming with me so I wouldn't be alone. It was great to get some one-on-one with him even with everyone else around. He enjoyed the freedom he had, taking off on his bike to go down the 'fast hill', just exploring. He, too, was sad when it was over.

The Diva surprised me the most. She was completely and totally in her element. She's not afraid of a thing. She has Mother Nature right where she wants her... in the palm of her hand. The independence that she displayed surprised me the most. Being the youngest, she usually sticks close to her brother and sister in unfamiliar surroundings, but it didn't take any time at all before she was off exploring the wonders of the outdoors all on her own. Steve would be down at the lake fishing (we had the perfect campsite, with two separate paths leading down to the lake), and she would just hike down, all on her own, and hike back up at will. She didn't need help and wasn't afraid to tackle those big rocks on her own. She did great!!!

Turns out Diva's independence came in pretty handy for Steve. During one of her visits to his fishing spot, he caught his first fish in America. About a half-pound catfish, which he threw back before I could rush down with the camera. Luckily, though, Diva saw it and even witnessed the kiss (tradition, supposedly, has it that you are supposed to kiss the first fish you catch) and had his back. Otherwise, we might not have believed him!!

My funniest memory happened the last evening, before we had actually decided to leave, Mac and I went to take a shower and left the others at camp. Apparently, The Diva wasn't too happy that she was left behind and ran off in a fit, pouting and crying, temper tantrum (which she excels at, I might add). Steve carried on, washing up and organizing for dinner, when he looked up to find her and Michael sitting in the middle of a muddy / dirty spot with the puppies just covered from head to toe. Almost as if to say, "You won't take me to shower, Mom? I'll show you!" When we got back, she came over and I took my bawling out for leaving her. When she raised her shirt to wipe her face, her bellybutton was *covered* with dirt. I mean covered! Dunno why, but remembering that just makes me smile every time :)

All in all, it was a success... all three kids woke up the next morning asking to go again that very day! We are planning our next outing very soon. Steve and I went this past weekend to scout out some places that might have good fishing access for the kids. Hopefully, the rain will get over before we leave, but we don't hold out much hope. Any other year, we'd be facing drought here, but no (not that we wish for drought, mind you, but a camping trip without rain seems a bit surreal at this point).

Friday morning bitch

Not sure if that title describes this post, or me. Or both.

I woke up to yet *another* day of rain. Sheesh! Give me a break! I am so sick and tired of rain! It's pretty bad when it's too damn swampy in the backyard for the kids to even swim!!! Mic just asked me, "Mom, what can we do besides going outside?" Poor kids. Enough, already.

For the second day in a row, I can't move my neck. I don't know if it's the way I'm sleeping or what, but I scared myself trying to drive yesterday. My only choice is to pump my body full of pain meds and muscle relaxers and pray. To just get through another day.

I'm really so very tired of the rain.

I absolutely adore these new puppies. They are just perfect for our family. But my god, can they poop!!! They sleep in the garage at night and I suppose I should just be grateful that they don't tear things up (we've made it pretty puppy-proof), but just imagine the amount of shit *two* puppies produce!!!! That's what I have to look forward to every single morning. I don't mind being the designated 'shit-cleaner'... somebody's gotta do it, and generally, we all have our own duties as related to the pups. But, since this is about bitching... I'm sick and tired of cleaning up shit!!! I've done my diaper duty... many times over. And puppies don't shit those nice little poops that you can just rake up with a scooper... no! I have to get paper towels, pick / wipe up said poop pile, spray the spot heavily with bleach water, then wipe up, again. I need stock in Brawny.

Did I mention I'm sick of the rain????

Hubby has to work again tonight. Again. He's worked the past two nights and Friday usually finds me looking forward to a nice quiet evening with just him, as the kids go to their Dad's this afternoon. I really should be grateful, and in lots of ways I am, because we really can use the money right now. And I'm proud... because he really is good at what he does, so people ask him to fill in here and there. He enjoys doing it (KJing) and has a good time while making money. But, I'm being a bitch here and taking a selfish moment and just want him home, with me.

I'm so sick of this damn rain!!!!!

Because I'm the world's worst procrastinator, the kids and I now have to get out today, in the rain, to go shopping for Father's Day. Not that their Dad *ever* helps them on Mother's Day or anything... grrrr... the mammoth bitch about my ex is another post entirely!!! I just *had* to put it off to the last minute, and now, I have no choice but to go out today (in the rain... did I mention that... or that I'm sick of the rain???) to shop. Ugh.

Ok... I think I'm done for now... gonna go take whatever I can possibly take so I can muster an hour at WalMart for the men in our lives...

I hate rain.

I went to a party last Saturday night

Steve runs private karaoke shows from time to time. This past weekend happened to be one of those times. We have a friend who was celebrating not only his 50th birthday, but 25 years in business, as well.

We have attended a few parties thrown by this gentleman. All very nice parties, ranging from a simple, quiet house party to a big 'do' thrown at a local up-scale hotel. This was the first, however, where he mixed business with pleasure, and as we had previously only attended the business parties, we got to see a more personal side of our friend.

The party had about 150 attendees... a mix of business associates, employees and family. The birthday boy happens to be, originally, from India, so there was a beautiful blend of cultures, as well. Indian food (which happens to be my favorite and not as easy to come by here as other cuisines, so I was in heaven!), music and attire permeated the festivities. It was simply gorgeous!

Throughout the evening, Steve and I shared our usual antics... we like, as much as the next guy, to sit in our little space and chat about the event and / or the people. For instance, at one point in the evening, Steve leaned over to me and said, quietly under his breath, as he nodded toward the Man of the Hour (hereafter referred to as Mr. Smith - not his real name), "I wonder how long since he was fifty?" I nearly spat out my drink! We do that... usually, it's Steve piping up with one of his little remarks and me giggling, sometimes much louder than I should. Oh, and by the way, we're both quite sure that Mr. Smith really *did* just turn 50.

The evening turned a bit different for me. As Steve was playing the music, I sat next to him just watching. Just taking in the beauty of it all. As people would come along to request a different song or pop up to see about singing, I'd casually chat to them just about everyday kind of stuff. I met many of Mr. Smith's family members, from the two-year-old great-niece who, while she looked simply stunning in her sari, just couldn't keep her eyes open past 11:00, to the Uncle who was trying desperately to manage the music the teenage girls were dancing to.

What happened between the time we arrived to the time we left was that I had a wonderful evening. As Steve and I were chatting on the ride home about the party, we delved into the obvious cultural differences that were present at this very enjoyable evening we had just experienced. What I'm not so far removed from are people, whom I've since eliminated, best as I can, from my life, who would have been aghast at that party. People who would just as soon wish tragedy upon people I had engaged with that night. To go a little deeper, as I was questioning the racial hatred that infiltrates society, Steve pointed out that there are people who would have bombed that party tonight, simply because they are different... "there'd be a few less of 'em", they'd say.

I lost it. Completely and utterly lost it. What in the world could be so bad about being different that one person, or a group of people, could damn an entire culture... kill an entire race? What? Which threw me into an oracle of what in the hell can I do? What difference can I make to the people who simply want to be with their families, but can't because of something like political asylum? What kind of impact could I possibly hope to have on that?

I concluded that, actually, I can't impact those issues. But what I can do is continue to be the best person I can be and hope to pass those qualities on to my children. That is my contribution.

And I can celebrate monumental steps like the case of Loving vs Virginia. Today marks the 40th anniversary in which the US Supreme Court ruled the way which ended racial discrimination in marriages in the United States completely.

Unfortunately, some parts of society have yet to catch up with the past forty years. There are many places in the United States where interracial relationships, let along marriages, are disparaged to such degrees that people still face physical violence for simply falling in love.

Alone, I can't really do much, except to continue to embrace my 'awakenings'. If it means going against that which surrounds me, so be it. I've never understood hate and bigotry and I never will.