I forgot where I was going with this….

I just want you all to know I’ve been so busy I haven’t been able to blog or get to comments. I will, I promise! I was able to write this yesterday over the course of the whole day, a sentence at a time and I never did get to publish it! I didn’t even forget it was Wednesday today, I just haven’t been able to get to the computer to post!

I learned something about myself today. We did something in Karate called “The alley.” It’s supposed to mimic walking down a dark alley at night and being attacked by multiple people. They say that under stress you go with what you know. So guess what I did in the alley? I went with Hockey. I threw elbows and knees and completely forgot my Hapkido and Karate.

Hockey was the first contact sport I ever played. And so I’m perfectly comfortable, when caught in a fray, to throw elbows, knees and hip checks. No technique. Just a full-on brawl against the boards. Sigh. I threw only three punches and I think a kick or two. The rest was all elbows and knees. And truly? In a fight? I wouldn’t throw punches because of all the little bones you can break in your hands. But I forgot to kick.

You wouldn’t believe the adrenaline rush doing this. I didn’t think it was going to be any big deal, but oh how I was wrong. As I was beating myself up over my performance, I said to Sensei in bewilderment “I went HOCKEY! I didn’t even use Hapkido!” She said “Yes, but, those elbow techniques you threw were really powerful. You’d want to use them in a fight. However? Don’t let people get in that close next time. Kick them.” Sigh. I wanted them in that close. How am I going to go all Hockey on someone if they are far away? ;D

Whatever Wednesday rules: Answer the question left by the person before you and leave a question for the next person. Play as many times as you wish. Anything goes. And it doesn’t have to be Wednesday to play.

First Question: What contact sports have you played and which one’s your favorite?

Dear Fuzzy Croc Dude,

I cannot believe you are wearing those shoes. REALLY? I mean, seriously. Let me take a minute and question your manhood here. You’ve seen the shoes, right? I mean, you looked down when you put them on? You’ve seen them on thousands of little girls, right? RIGHT? Anything found on millions of tiny, little feet DOES NOT belong on your feet. And what did you do with the free tiny vagina they gave away with the crocs? Even if I were to look the other way on all of these violations, let’s discuss the fact that you were wearing them with sweats.  Not macho, bro. Quien es mas macho? Someone other than you, Fuzzy Croc Hombre.

You seemed like a perfectly normal human when I saw you stroll into the burrito shop. Until I looked down.  Then I pretty much snorted my burrito and almost had beans come through my nose. What the hell were you thinking when you made this footwear selection before leaving home today? That you’d have the lay-daaaysssss swooning at your effeminate, plasticky feet? Because I almost choked to death, perished from inhaled burrito.

With this out of the way, can we please talk color selection? Did you, like, walk into the fuzzy croc store and just bust out with, “Give me the off-greenest fuzzy crocs you’ve got!… No, not those - too strained pea. Do you have something in a newborn baby shit? Yes, wonderful.  These are perfect!”

While I was careful to give you a wide berth, I can only imagine the 12 stages of odor your feet must be going through in your polyester-lined, recycled whiffle ball footwear.  They’re clearly somewhere between stage 1: “Is someone having a vinaigrette?” and stage 12: “The guy at the dump won’t even take these effing things.”  Luckily, I kept you at a safe enough distance to leave the specific effect on the nose to the imagination.  If only this were the case with my eyes. My eyes. They burn.

Sincerely,

The rest of the world

Nuthin’ to see here! I didn’t forget! Move along!

Whatever Wednesday rules: Answer the question left by the person before you and leave a question for the next person. Play as many times as you wish. Anything goes. And it doesn’t have to be Wednesday to play.

First Question: Would you rather all-you-can-eat fat free dessert or a small portion of a full fat dessert?

I thought I would be better today. I thought I would be able to shake it off. And yet? This is me:

And this:

Oh and this:

So um yeah. I’m not better. But? Since I can’t be funny, I give you the internetz. With the glorious search terms people used to get here:

white poo in children
rabbit on a pogo stick
cooking kitchen naked sex
twisty cats (there’s a huge cat theme going here)
cat washing ass
evil cats
ugliest cat
cat teeth cavity
cats pink nipples
cracked out cat
cats wearing socks
ugliest cat in the world
ugliest people
dont ever piss off your maid of honor
whites have recessive genes (WTF?)
“getting high” + pressing on chest
recipe pot brownies
pill bottle with people falling out (lay off the pot brownies then)
dog hernia on breast (did you know dogs had breast? I did not know that.)
septic squishy (shudder)
worlds ugliest baby (my friend had one of those…)

So this time around, the devil sex and satan worship is out and the ugly people, babies and cats are in. Actually anything cats. In the last couple of weeks, I’ve had around 4,000 hits based on ugly humans and kittehs. lol. I have no idea what all the getting high stuff is about….. but we DO NOT serve pot brownies here. Did I talk about pot brownies? I don’t think I did. Well, now I’m talking about them. But I wasn’t talking about them before. Oh WAIIITTTTTTTTTT. I was talking about pot blocks and recipes for brownies. And the search engines went and twisted up all my words. Hrummmphh. Now I’m back to creme of angry soup. I have the recipe if you want it.

Arggg. You know when you’ve come to a point where you’re just so emotionally fried it’s hard to function? Yeah. I’m there.

Yesterday after baseball practice, Steve and I finished loading the equipment into the car. I turned around and said “Where’s son #2?” We both turned in a wide circle and there was no son #2. We walked back to the field to check the field and playground. No son #2. I starting calling him. No answer. No son #2 as far as the eye can see. I have nightmares like this. Only this one was real. I started calling more frantically. There were some parents who know us who started helping us look. I. was. freaking. out. Steve started on a lap all the way around the school. I started digging in my pocket for my cell phone to call 911. A parent suddenly yells to look over on the hilltop that’s behind the school, where there is a grove of trees. I have forbidden both kids to ever go up there because unsavory characters hang out there AND they could easily be kidnapped unseen from there. And yet? As I started running that way, it did appear that son #2 was up there. When I finally got close enough to see it was him, I almost threw up. I totally lost it. This is my recurrent nightmare. I felt sick for hours afterward.

If that wasn’t bad enough, the phone rang late last night. You know when the phone rings late and you just know it’s nothing good? And you want to freeze that moment in between what you know and are now and the next moment when some sort of hell is going to let loose on you? You just want to run away from the phone and go hide in a hole and not come out. Because in the last few years, when the phone has rung late at night, it’s always been death on the other end. And so it was last night. Steve answered the phone “Hi, Mom!” then “WHAT?!?!?” And the last two times he had said ‘what’ that way, someone had died. My favorite relative on Steve’s side of the family was found dead yesterday. She’s young- early 50’s with four kids. OMFG. Now the sick feeling won’t go away.

I am spent. I can’t seem to get it together today. Sigh.

We had our third baseball game of the season on Saturday. And just when I thought all the male managers in the league had gotten used to the idea of me managing a team? I run across a coach that clearly thought I should be home ironing. And barefoot. I watched the expression on his face change when part way through the game it dawned on him that *I* was the manager and the males were the coaches. He tried to tell me to go sit down and not worry about it when I was trying to clarify a rule with the other manager. I wanted to throw down right then and there. Because? I was right about the rule. And he was an arrogant ass.

Steve’s got a position on the little league board this year and it’s his responsibility to recruit coaches and managers, help form teams and schedule all the games. And while Steve goes to the board meetings, at home we’ve been sharing the duties of this job because it’s a massive job. Only a few weeks before the season started, the league was short more than half the managers they needed. They didn’t even have enough managers to start the season. I’ve met enough people in the last few years in this league to go on a recruiting campaign. I recruited most of the missing managers. So managing the team we played on Saturday was someone I had cajoled into managing. Rich didn’t come by it easily though. He even sent Steve a list of demands a few hours after my first conversation with him about it. He was serious about the demands, but he was good natured about it.

Anyway, you’ll recall that the national weather service predicted 7 inches of snow over the weekend. The weekend consisted of totally bizarre weather. It was raining, snowing and hailing, usually all at the same time and sometimes with the sun shining. There’s no such thing as dry snow here.

When we got to the field on Saturday, the infield was mostly under water. The snow had melted from the night before and the field was a mess. I was attempting to cancel the game on the spot, when Steve noticed that the soccer field was relatively dry. Sigh. They wanted to play. It was snowing lightly. That hideous, sloppy, dripping kinda snow. My down jacket smelled of wet dog and I was already cold. I was completely outnumbered in wanting to go home to a warm fire. So we started warming up. And by warming up, I mean, trying to see the ball through the snow and hail. Steve sidles up to me and says “Huh. That’s a first. I never thought I’d hear myself say ‘I wish it was hailing’ because you know? The hail is a hell of a lot drier than the snow.”

After the second inning of playing baseball in the snow, I trotted out to the mound to confer with Rich over ending the game at that point. Our kids were freezing and losing interest. Rich scoops me up into a huge bear hug and says “Oh hell no! You got me into this! I am out here freezing my ass off because you had to go and recruit me for this job! We are totally playing another inning! Look! The sun is even shining!” (It shined for a whole 30 seconds, I’ll have you know!) Sigh. Double sigh.

So we started the next inning and halfway through the batting order, the snow really starts coming down. By the time we took the field for the second half of the inning, it was snowing and hailing so hard, I couldn’t see the kids’ faces. They had snow accumulating on the bills of their baseball caps and most of them were looking up at the sky trying to catch snowflakes on their tongues. Then? Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse? I shit you not, there was a blizzard. No one could see a thing with all the snow and hail. At that point I yelled to Rich “WE ARE TOTALLY EVEN NOW! EVEN STEVEN! YOU HEAR ME?!?! WE COULD HAVE BEEN IN THE WARM CAR ON OUR WAY HOME NOW! THERE’S NO SUN SHINING! YOU JUST HAD TO PLAY ANOTHER INNING!” And he’s standing on the pitcher’s mound laughing because the truth hurts.

So that was my Saturday, folks. Playing baseball in a blizzard, while smelling like wet dog and not being able to feel your extremities. Next time I will fight my way back to the car. That’s right, I will roundhouse kick and pummel anyone who disagrees and thinks that the game must go on….. 

Update: One of the parents just sent me this photo of when it first started coming down:

It’s April 18 and we’ve gotten a severe weather alert:

THE NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE IN SEATTLE HAS ISSUED A HEAVY SNOW WARNING IN EFFECT UNTIL 5 AM. UP TO 7 INCHES OF SNOW WILL FALL TONIGHT…

Global warming, my ass!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

As most of you know, Steve towers over people at a height of six feet, five inches tall. He’s a big dude. Even by German standards. So I’m sure it will come as no surprise that he was an absolute freak show in China. So much so, that he kept getting stopped all over China with people asking to take photographs with him. So the husband of a dangerous revolutionary (FREE TIBET!) is now on the mantle of several hundred homes in China. I have laughed and laughed repeatedly at my circus freak husband over this. Ladies and Gentlemen, I present to you… SIDESHOW STEVE!

Beth from Acid Indignation tagged me for a meme. I’m supposed to tell you ten random facts about myself. So here goes, although I must admit that part of me wants to be a smartass and make up a whole bunch of stuff like I have 14 toes and speak the African clicking language. ;D

1. I’ve never had a cavity. Or any major dental work for that matter. Neither has Steve. We’re freaks of nature.
2. I can count in seven languages: French, Spanish, German, Italian, Japanese and Korean. I became highly motivated to learn to count in Japanese when it became apparent that you would have to do push-ups (in Karate) if you got it wrong.  And just for the record? I did push-ups because STEVE got it wrong!
3. I changed schools every single year from sixth grade to 10th grade. That’s five different schools during your most formative years. So fun, you don’t even know.
4. I have never dyed my hair. Ever. I don’t even like getting haircuts. They traumatize me. I have nightmares for weeks before a haircut. I got a bad haircut a few years ago and cried every time I looked in the mirror for a month. No one could even mention my hair without me bursting into tears.
5. I am severely allergic to latex.
6. Because of swimming, I never went through the admissions process to get into college. I had been offered full scholarships to Bryn Mawr and Wellesley and several other colleges. I decided a week before the semester started to go to a local California college and was admitted in the office on the spot. I was offered a full scholarship to University of San Diego in my freshman year in college. They wanted me to come down and swim AND coach. I turned them down though. San Diego wasn’t for me.
7. I have minors in Spanish and Art. I majored in Advertising.
8. I used to do runs, biathlons and triathlons. I have never trained for one though. My level of physical fitness from swimming allowed me to do those, usually on a whim. I liked to keep the running part down to five or six miles. I’m not a sprinter. Just call me slow and steady.
9. If I taste something in a restaurant, I can go home and create the same dish without the recipe.
10. I’ve had four surgeries for joint injuries sustained while doing sports. You’d think I’d get a clue. But? No. Two surgeries on my right shoulder and two on my left knee. At least I’m balanced, right?

I also got tagged for another meme by The Mother Hen from The Hen House. I’m supposed to sum up my life in six words. And quite honestly? I’ve sat on this one forever and can only come up with smartass answers from songs. Like? And everybody was kung fu fighting or I fight authority, authority always wins. Really Hen, I got nuthin’! But I didn’t want you to feel rejected.

And because I feel like when I tag people it’s like calling them up and asking them for a favor? I’m not tagging you. But if you read this far? You’re tagged anyway. I’m sneaky that way. I see you. I’ll know. Go on. Go do the meme. And I need to borrow a cup of sugar, BTW.

I’m totally on top of it this morning! I actually even know it’s Wednesday! HA!

Whatever Wednesday rules: Answer the question left by the person before you and leave a question for the next person. Play as many times as you wish. Anything goes. And it doesn’t have to be Wednesday to play.

First Question: When young people (girls especially) dream of their Prince (Or Princess) Charming they have in their heads their “ideal” mate. How close is your actual mate to this ideal?

Oh it’s on now!

Steve’s brother: BRO! I got some sparring gear! Make sure you bring your sparring gear next time you come down.
Steve: Ok.
Steve’s brother: Oh! And you better make sure you bring a mouthguard.
Steve: In that case, you better be sure you get a cup.

Sigh. They’re going to beat the hell out of each other. And I want a front row seat. ;D

As a martial artist, we’re taught to use whatever weapons are available. Whether that be our fists and feet, or…. something else. This weekend Steve and I were unloading the dishwasher and on either side of it. He began his customary trash talk so I flicked a roundhouse kick out over the dishwasher, (yes we’re still living the Mr. and Mrs. Smith movie.) Steve and I have sparred each other enough times to predict what the other is going to do next. For instance, I knew a backfist was going to be coming to the side of my head because it’s Steve’s signature move. So I used the weapon available to me…. the stainless steel pot I was drying off. Yes folks, I blocked the backfist with the pot. Steve howled “OW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! DO NOT POT BLOCK ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!” Yes that’s a martial arts term: Pot Block- or poto blockchi in Japanese. They’re teaching it at all the dojos. ;D You should see what I can do with a spoon- also called spoonodachi in Japanese. ;D

Item # 334,001: When spending a large part of the day wondering why lacy thong feels so uncomfortable, check to make sure it is not inside out. If you were too find such a thing has occured, do not say “Meh. Too much work to turn it right side out. I hope I don’t get in a car accident.”

I am so screwed up with jet lag and exhaustion from single parenting and traveling while Steve’s been in China these last couple of weeks that I completely missed Whatever Wednesday! Sorry guys! But I remembered before Wednesday was over! How come no one reminded me?!?! I’m shifting the blame to your asses. ;D All of you. ;D

Whatever Wednesday rules: Answer the question left by the person before you and leave a question for the next person. Play as many times as you wish. Anything goes. And it doesn’t have to be Wednesday to play.

First Question: If you could have one person full time for ”hired help” what would it be? Butler? Maid? Nanny? Chauffer? Groundskeeper? Maintenence guy? Chef? Personal Assistant? Why?

My grandmother is very much a daughter of the Great Depression. She raised her children to be pack rats savers too. This is the generation that doesn’t waste or throw anything out. Really, this generation was the early reuse/recycle “green” generation. They haven’t gotten the memo on “disposable.” While I was there, my grandmother kept washing and trying to reuse paper plates and plastic disposable cups. She won’t wash her clothes after she wears them because she doesn’t want to wear them out. I literally had to steal her clothes and run with them to put them in the washing machine. With her yelling “COME BACK HERE!” after me and me yelling back “YOU GOTTA CATCH ME FIRST, GRANDMA!” (Yeah, like I’m going to let here REWEAR. Um, highly illegal. Hell no.) She brought my aunt a sandwich in a sanitary napkin bag she recycled. LOL! (And if you were wondering, my aunt refused to eat the sandwich and tossed it when Grandma wasn’t looking.) She’s a saver that Grandma.

Of the six children, my Aunt Judy really took the “throw nothing away” to heart. I can remember when I was growing up, being amazed at the stuff she saved, things like twist ties, drive thru napkins and drinking straws and ketchup packets from fast food restaurants. This behavior utterly horrifies her daughters, especially my cousin, Alesia. Every time she visits my aunt, she throws a bunch of stuff away.

On Saturday, Alesia pulls me aside and whispers “You would not BELIEVE the sh!t I’ve thrown away this time!” I immediately start laughing. “No seriously, and Mom keeps digging through the trash and finding the sh!t I’ve thrown away.” I’m laughing pretty hard at this point, because she isn’t joking. “Get your camera.” she says. I’ve got an ear to ear grin and I go grab the camera. “I tried to throw away this junk magnet she got in the mail, from an attorney with a 2006 calendar on it? She dug it out the trash!”

“Look! She’s still washing out and saving ziploc bags!”

“And look at this! Rubber bands, twist ties, all kinds of crap. I threw some of it away and she caught me and do you know what? She called me a BITCH! My own mother!”

By this time I’m laughing so hard I’m crying. We’re whispering and laughing in the kitchen and I’m opening the cabinets and taking pictures. But then? Aunt Judy hears us and yells from the other room “WHAT ARE YA’LL DOING IN THERE?!” We both freeze. Me with the camera in my hand, pointed at the cabinets, Alesia whispering in my ear. We both must have looked guilty as hell because she gets up and comes to the door of the kitchen. “What the HELL?! …..Are ya’ll taking pictures of my Tupperware shrine?!” Alesia and I look at each other “Yeah Mom, we’re taking pictures of the Tupperware shrine!”

She turned around and left and we cracked up again. Except…..several minutes later she came back in and caught us again, this time I was no where near the Tupperware shrine. She narrows her eyes at me “WHAT ARE YOU TWO UP TO?!” I said “Um… nothin’! Hey look! A bunch of wine corks!”

Proudly she tells me that it’s from all the wines she and my uncle have had. (See? Distract and mislead!) I snuck around the kitchen some more and captured saved bottle caps,

jars and bottles,

empty prescription medicine bottles,

bags.

You won’t believe what was found in her car.

Yep, that’s an early 80’s cell phone, folks. And she won’t throw it away because she says she might need to call 911. We couldn’t convince her that the phone would no longer work. She might sell it on Ebay if any of you are in the market for an antique. Or a movie prop. ;D

We went back into the kitchen and were writing on her to do list.

Alesia wrote: Clean off my door.
Then I walked by and wrote: Go trash diving for all the things Alesia threw away.
Then Alesia walked back by and wrote: Don’t look in neighbor’s trash! (3 doors down)
I pointed out that Alesia’s last “to do” entry could be more embarassing than anything, because most certainly she was going to be digging around in the neighbor’s trash now. LOL. Anyway, I got caught again and Alesia threw me under the bus. “She’s blogging it, Mom!” Aunt Judy looks from me to Alesia. I decided to go for broke: “Give up the straws and the ketchup packets, Lady. I know they’re somewhere around here.” Alas, she says that with no small children in the house anymore, she doesn’t do fast food. I’m skeptical. We probably just didn’t look hard enough. ;D

So there you have it folks. That’s what being green in the 1930’s was. And in a very 2008 kinda way, Alesia will continue her battle with my aunt and the trash can. ;D

Don’t get excited. I got stuff to do today.  THEN I’ll get around to your comments and blogs.

I almost had to throw down with this Continental Airlines employee who tried to take away my carry-on backpack. Everyone else was letting her take their purses and bags and stuff. Because the flight was full and the plane was a puddle jumper. Oh No You D’dnt!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Guess who won that round? Um yeah. I kept my backpack. Don’t make me get all martial artsy on yo’ ass. Biotch. LOL!!! Seriously. It’s carry-on luggage because I was CARRYING IT ON. Not so you could check it. Now get outta my face.

NO way I was letting go of it. I had several thousand dollars worth of camera equipment in that bag and it was NOT leaving my sight. Oh, and I also came home with an ice chest full of food that can only be gotten in Louisiana. They tried to give me pushback about that too. Mmm hmmm that went well for them too. It’s in my freezer now. lol.

Ok. Gotta go…..

Steve called from China to inform me that I have been banned in the PRC (People’s Republic of China.) That’s right folks, my blog is now blocked in China. He blames you all and me. FREE TIBET!

Son #1 (fresh from the shower after a day in the mud): Holy Cow! I didn’t realize how dirty I was. I feel like I’m newly born. All fresh and clean!
Steve: Just so you know? You were gross when you were born.
Son #1: I WAS?!?!
Steve: Yeah. You were disgusting as a matter of fact. All bluish and smeared with uterus stuff…. (shudder)
Son #1: Awwwww.

I’m out of town with no internet access. Went to Louisiana to visit my Grandma. I have some pre- written posts for your perusal. I’ll answer comments when I get back. Hang on, people, I’ll be back soon.