Monthly Archives: September 2013

~ After School Decompression ~

I’m no different from any other mother.  I want to give my children a home where they can relax the minute they hit the door, after a long day of school.  I like to fill their tummies with comfort food, made with love and intent.  I try to give them my very best effort.

So for today’s after-school snack, I made Greek Yogurt and Cheddar biscuits for my Varmint and her friend, Megan.

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And I paid special attention to the presentation…I wanted the young ladies to feel cared for!

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Do you think the Champagne was over-the-top?

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I kid; it was sparkling grape juice.

…at least, theirs was….

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~ Hey Dummy! ~

My Captain and I use the internet Dropbox application to store photos we both use.  This can be fun when I go to look for a photograph of mine, and subsequently find photos he took.

But it can also be alarming, confusing, and downright scary.

Take for instance, tonight, as I came across this in our Dropbox:

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What in the world???

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Is that a BODY??? Oh my LORD!!!!

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Oh, it’s a Dummy.

These must have been shots from a training session with the other Special Ops guys last week.

I wonder if My Captain has the same ‘double-take’ moments when he is looking in the Dropbox, and sees one of my pictures…


And wonders….

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~ Fingers To The Bone ~

Need proof?  Need proof that I am the world’s most amazingly hard-working, brick-laying Mama Boe? Do ya?  Huh?

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What would it take to make you believe it, other than the staged photograph above?

How about THIS staged photograph?

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Actually, it isn’t staged, but what it IS, is my favorite pair of gardening gloves that apparently are not interchangeable for paver-laying gloves.  That thar is leather that’s been worked clean through to my widdle fingers.

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Look at how menacing that simple hand becomes when you curl the fingers just a little bit.  Rrraaaarrrr!

Sorry. I don’t spend a lot of time with adults, clearly.

We got a lot farther on laying the bricks for the floor of the patio today, My Captain and I.  He finished the base layers of rock and sand, and I did the laying.

I was the layer.

He asked me to take charge of laying.

He did the prep work and I finished the lay-job.

Nope, there is no way I can word that, that it doesn’t sound dirty.

But, (cough), turns out I am the best layer he’s ever known.

Ba Dum Bum!

Exit, stage left!


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~ How Can I Teach What I Don’t Know? ~

My Varmint is getting old enough that she’s surpassed me on teachable things.  Believe it or not, I am starting to fail her on some subjects.

Fortunately, I did teach her good manners: ‘please,’ and ‘thank you,’ and all the stuff in between, but there are certain things I just can’t pass on to her:

I can’t teach her how to dress stylishly.

I can’t teach her how to do her hair.

I can’t teach her how to drive, at least, not well.

I can’t teach her how to keep wisely silent when necessary.

I can’t teach her how to do a pedicure.

I can’t teach her how to suffer fools.

And I sure as hell can’t teach her Algebra.

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That’s My Captain’s job.

And several other things.  Oh, it’s not because she’s in the “Mom is such an idiot” stage, though I’m sure that is rapidly approaching.  And it’s not because I AM an idiot, though that may be rapidly approaching as well.  It’s just that all those ‘cool’ things never meant anything to me.

(Please don’t tell her Algebra teacher I said that.)

Truth is, I don’t spend time on my clothes, or my hair, or perfecting my driving skills (please don’t tell my family),  or practicing the wisdom of silence when need be.  So I never really excelled in any of them.

But to my credit, I did teach her more street-smart things.  You know, things that will actually serve her in this violent, unpredictable, obstacle-ridden life we lead.  The things that hold REAL-WORLD, applicable value, like:

How to fart silently. (You knew that was coming.)

How to belch with your mouth closed in polite company, and blow the belch air out AWAY from people clandestinely .

How to drive in the middle of two lanes to stop a butt-head from cutting in front of everyone.

How to avoid burning bacon.

How to win an argument with sheer volume.

How to walk her own path, when everyone is telling her to walk theirs.

How to take cookies from the cookie jar and re-arrange them so no one would notice any are gone.

These are the things that will actually be useful in life.

But the rest?  I have no idea.  I have no idea how to stencil a wall, or do my taxes, or initiate a corporate merger.  I don’t know how to do make-up in the ‘sexy’ style, and I don’t know any of the answers to any Cosmo Magazine “How To Please A Man’ quiz.  I don’t know how to change a car’s oil, and I don’t know how to write an effective resume letter.

In the end, I suppose all I do know, and all I really can offer in truth,

is my pure love.

And I guess, when I think about it, a mother’s pure love is just about the strongest real-world application anyone can put in their toolbox as they go through life.

But that’s just my own opinion,

and what the hell do I know?

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~ Am Too! ~

Sheesh!  I’ve been catching all kinds of flak for my post about My Captain’s sole efforts in building our brick patio.  Let me assure you, Vern (can I call you Vern?) that I am indeed in there helping!  I’m right in the thick of all of that hot, sandy, sweaty, spider-filled, roach-infested, teaming-with-sugar-ants pile of bricks, sand, and gravel!  I am!  I am, too!!!! REALLY!

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It’s just that after a while, my arthritic knee, and my sore hip, and my stiff back get all hot and sticky and uncomfortable, and the sweat starts dripping down cracks and crevices on my body that make me squirm worse than Miley Cyrus during a Music Video.

Except that I keep my tongue in my mouth….

… for the most part anyways.

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And then there is the fact that I am highly distractible.

Take the flowers in my garden above our new patio, for instance.  Aren’t they gorgeous?  (Ignore the dead coneflowers, I’m harvesting them for next year’s seeds!)

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And if I happen to look up when I’m wiping the sweat off of my forehead, and notice my beautiful hybrid red Coreopsis…..

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Or my sweet seed-sown Zinnias…

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Or my sassy seed-sown impatiens….

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in amongst my Pink Lemonade Honeysuckle, well, it’s understandable that I might not be as efficient a worker as My Captain, you know?

I knew you’d understand.

Besides, check out my WOUND!  I got this when I was stacking bricks on my arm to heft them over to where I was working.

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It’s blurry, I know, but trust me, it should be enough to cause you great concern for my welfare.

Also, it should buy me a bit of a pass tomorrow, with any luck.  I just keep whining that my arm is turning numb, and I think Gangrene may be setting in.

Working as Hard as I Can, Given Who I Am,


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