A completely self-serving whiny-ass post

Just to get it off my chest. Of course, i take another hiatus from posting, and then I have to come on here and dump all this crap off.

Okay, so my DarlingHusband has his oldest son, henceforth known as SmartAss. staying with us. SmartAss is working with Darling, trying to save up money, get a place of his own, and move his girlfriend (Henceforth known as MeanBitch) up here. But before I get onto the whiny-ass part, you need some background.

Darling had a screwed up childhood, and a mostly screwed up adulthood to be honest. So he has (or thinks he has) a lot to atone for. So he has this odd way of showing it to the people he harbors guilt over. SmartAss stayed with us for a year when he was 14-15. When he first moved in, it was Darling, myself, MiddleSon (who was 2 at the time) and SmartAss. And Darling was all "Son! Son! Sorry i was such a shit! Let me shower you with attention and money and show you how great I really am!" Fast forward about 5 months. Darling and I get custody of his other son, (who was about 3 at the time, and is now always referred to as my Oldest Son, since I have raised him.) And the processed repeated itself: "Son! Son!" So on and so forth. Fast forward about a year. SmartAss moves back with his mother, several states away, at the end of the school year. Darling's Brother moves in with us after being released from a vacation with the federal penal system. You know what's coming: "Brother! Brother!" Well, Brother ended up with us for a year and a half, and it went so seriously sour I can't even get into it here. Anyway, we had a peaceful for years, and added Youngest Son to our family. So you see, when Smart Ass moved in with us at the beginning of October, it started all over again.

Now I'll try to explain about SmartAss. He is almost 20. And he acts like it. Darling and I have gotten as far as we have by having a cordial, polite relationship. I know many couples who argue over petty things and call each other names and stuff, but Darling and I do not do that. We are not rude or sarcastic to each other. We actually like each other. SmartAss comes into the picture and starts getting lippy. Just the usual wise cracking smart ass comments that are not appreciated by the person who cleans the house, does all the laundry, cleaning, cooking, etc for three adults and three young boys. And I do not need Oldest Son and Middle Son hearing that crap either. In this house at least, respecting your mother still means something.

SmartAss is a new dad. My little step-grandson is about three weeks old at the time of this posting. His mother is MeanBitch, and she lives several states away from us. Mean Bitch also has 2 toddlers from a previous relationship. Needless to say, I do not want MeanBitch living up here. I have enough drama of my own, thank you very much. MeanBitch and Smartass have nightly 2 hour long phone conversations where they do nothing but yell and insult each other. MeanBitch keeps our phone lines buzzing all hours of the night and day.

Anyway, I have about had it. SmartAss is an eating machine. Food that was planned to last for 5 or 6 meals is getting eaten in 2. He s lazy and does nothing to help around the house. Case in point: a few weeks ago, I was sick. Not just sick....but sick! I had a horrible flu and pink eye in both eyes. I was lying on the couch, trying to ignore everybody and everything. SmartAss and Darling come home from work and proceed to shower and eat dinner that I had ready for them. Neither SmartAss nor Darling have a lot of work clothes, so i had been doing a load of laundry nightly. earlier this day, I had done a load of the other kids' clothes, and they were still in the washer. SmartAss yells from the laundry room that he "can't put his stuff in because there is stuff already in it". So I drag my ass off the couch and switch loads. Now seriously, how hard would it have been for a healthy hardy young man to take wet clothes from the washer and place them in the dryer?! Apparently, it was just too damn hard. So is doing dishes, even ones he creates all for himself that were not part of a meal I cooked. And picking up after himself. Or making his bed. Or putting his clean folded laundry away after I finish with it. Or picking up a few groceries at the store to replace the ones he uses. The kid ate 4 packages of ramen noodles in one sitting at lunch, and then packed away 4 pork chops, rice and corn for dinner. (He skipped the beans - the one thing I make that he won't touch) Hot dogs and mac n cheese? I can no longer cook 10 hot dogs and one box of mac. I know have to make at least 16-18 hot dogs and no less than three boxes of mac. 4 bowls of cereal for breakfast, 4 grilled cheese sandwiches as a 'snack' after dinner. You get the idea.

And of course, SmartAss is making plenty of money working for Darling. He sends a good chunk of it down to MeanBitch. The rest he spends on fast food (which Darling and i do not buy on principal), bowling, junk food, etc.

And if MeanBitch does move up here - we have another problem. This woman (though i hesitate to call her that) has no idea how to live on her own. She never has. She has no way to set up a home for herself and her children. (She is 21, by the way) I asked SmartAss what kind of furniture and stuff they had that would need to be moved up here. Nothing. A few old mattresses for the kids, and some toys. Oh wait! Not quite 'nothing' he adds. The kids each have one of those $400 Power Wheels ride-on toys, and they have two computers and a big screen TV. But no couches or tables or chairs or dishes or pots and pans or curtains or a microwave or any appliances or towels or anything else you need. Sorry, you do not "need" a big screen TV. You do "need" a refrigerator. Darling and I do not have the money to help them get set up. (Well, we sort of do, but with Christmas and two kids birthdays coming up, not to mention bills) We have been trying to clean out and declutter ourselves, and have sold or given away almost all of our extra household crap. Also, I do not particularly want to help SmartAss and MeanBitch.

And with SmartAss and MeanBitch, I also would get the drama of CrazyDrunk, who is SmartAss's biological mom, who lives in his home state. All these years, I have been so thankful that CrazyDrunk lives so far away. But now her "only grandbaby" would be moving up here. And with them would be ThugChick, SmartAss's juvenile delinquent and high-school dropout little sister who enjoys spending her days sleeping around and beating up her current boyfriend's mom. No, I am not making this up.

I have had enough........

Teaching my son everything he needs to know....on the way to football practice

I am blessed with three sons. My oldest is an inquisitive sort, which I -usually- greatly encourage. I have honed his manners enough that his questions are no longer of the "Why is that man bald?" and "how come that lady is so fat?" variety. I have told him that any time he asks me an intelligent question, I will answer to the best of my ability. I have become quite good, if I do say so myself, at explaining difficult things at eight-year-old level.

Now, five days a week, OldestSon and I make the 1/4 mile 10 minute drive to football practice. Some days we take the scenic drive by the river, othre times it's through the center of town, hitting every red light along the way. And of course, my town thought it good planning to stick a red light every 20 feet through our busy 'downtown' section. (Downtown consists of 4 blocks and about a dozen businesses.)

We pass a small family-owned pizza chain that shut down recently. Dear OldestSon asks why it closed. Cue a brief but informative talk about Huge Corporations versus Small Family-Owned Business. Somehow, in that short drive, I got through to him. My son now hates WalMart. :-p

On the way home, I was telling him to take a quick shower once we got home, because MiddleSon would need one too, and we still had spelling words to do before bedtime. Cue an 8 minute explanation of water heaters. (In kidspeak, a hot water heater is like keeping a pot of boiling water on the stove. If you use it all, you can fill it back up, but it needs time to heat up again).

Sitting at home last night after the kids were in bed, it dawned on me that since football started in late July, OldestSon and I have had some interesting, intelligent and certainly diversified conversations.

Abraham Lincoln, slavery, a brief history of the civil war (this came up because he wanted to know why Lincoln was important enough to get on a coin *and* a bill)

The war in Iraq, the WTC attacks (because, sadly, we lost some young men in our town over there, and he was curious about the new memorial)

Hybrid cars, electric cars, the (ridiculous) price of gas

Why riverfront property costs more, real estate costs in general (Why is anyone homeless? he asks, When there are all these houses?)

Sadly, my own education seems to be lacking, because there have been quite a few questions I actually had to go home and google so I could answer them. The most recent example was: what animal does pepperoni come from. Huh. Um.....pig? Maybe? (P.S. after reading exactly what pepperoni is, I am seriously considering plain cheese pizza from now on)

I feel good, somehow, knowing my son is learning things he wouldn't otherwise. I feel better knowing that it is me he chooses to ask. And I feel best when i hear him explaining it to someone else.

However, I am still dodging the question about where babies come from.

The trials & tribulations of Saturday

Yesterday was a busy day for us. The town hosted a safety day for the kids in the morning (basic first aid, how to handle minor emergencies, etc) followed by a Fireman's Parade The parade was actually, I think, intended as a jab at the businesses along our small town's main street. You see, at the last Christmas parade, the shops all got together and requested that the ambulances & firetrucks NOT use their sirens when going down these 2 blocks. The way the buildings are set up, the sound just reverberates & echos and feels 10x as loud as normal. So they didn't get to use the sirens in the December parade. And then they planned a parade and invited about 60 ambulances & fire trucks from neighboring areas. And blasted their sirens All. Along. Main Street. Go them, that is exactly my idea of revenge. They did at least hand out ear plugs before it started for the spectators.


Then we had OldestNephew's bday party. Just your usual party for an 11 yo boy. Nephew's father, my wonderful (*snort*) Brother, is however, and amateur comedian. Or thinks he is. He was setting up one of the new presents so the kids could go outside and play with it. This toy happened to be a pitching machine for whiffle balls. He set it up, and turned it on. Inside the house. Without thinking that my 2.5 yo ToddlerSon was sitting directly in front of him. So ToddlerSon has a nice little welt on his cheek from that.

Later in the evening was supposed to be the swim party for the baseball league. I tell you this to show that my kids were a little amped up from the day (not to mention candy from the parade, cake & ice cream and more candy) but the time 6 pm rolled around.

As time for the swim party rolled around, the sky was getting really [b]really[/b] dark. Severe thunderstorms opened up at 5:45, and the party had to be postponed.

The power goes out at 6. Since it didn't flicker and didn't come back on within 10-15 minutes, we knew we'd be dark for awhile. I had planned on all of us eating BBQ at the party, but that fell through. So we ended up with a cheese & cracker dinner by candle light (which the kids thought was fantastic and we should do at least once a week). Followed by the ice cream that was melting in the freezer.

We played cards for a bit (you may remember from a previous post that my kids are becoming quite the little Blackjack players), and then switched over to hit our stockpile of board games: yahtzee, chutes & ladders, boggle, kids scrabble, go fish, etc. And then it got too dark to see.

We retreated into the living room where DH & I flopped on the couch, the kids on the floor, and we all laid around, staring at the ceiling and whining about being bored. DH & I started talking about nothing, and of course the subject got on to certain movies and actors and the like. I must have started to get up a dozen times to "Put that one in, I haven't seen it for ages." before realizing I was an idiot. Not to mention how many times I tried to turn the fan on.

Just to [s]shut everyone up[/s] keep the peace, I started the kids playing 20 questions. Which we ended up doing for over 2.5 hours and had a blast. Dh thought we were being stupid, and wouldn't join in at first. But 20 questions (or in my house, 2400 questions, 326 silly guesses, and 289 cries of "I give up! What is it?") is addictive to those around you. And to my DearestHusband (*Double snort*) saying "This is something that can be found in, around or on the ocean" and then the item in question is a dive watch......well, I want to keep this post PG so I won't say what I thought about that.

When the power did come back on (by then we were all punch-drunk tired and laughing like crazy) the kids actually were going "Oh, noooooo! Can we keep playing? Pleeeeeease??" So we went around, shut everything off, relit the candles and played for another hour. It turned out to be one of the most fun evenings we've had for awhile.

My Cujo-esque Moment - Literally

We live next door to some really good people. To give you the set up, there is out house, Big Daddy's house and Little Man's house. Big & Little (father & son, obviously) have their yards fenced in together. Little & His wife are very nice folks. Their boy plays with our kids, we chat when we see each other, the usual neighborly crap.

Little has 2 huge Saint Bernards. One is very large, and not very friendly. The other is a bit smaller and okay. They try to keep them under lock and key becuase our 'hood has lots of young kids. In case you forgot, this is what a St Bernard looks like:






Anyway, there has never been a problem. As a side note, I should add that while my DH is scared of dogs, I have never been in my entire life. Now, we have recently acquired our own puppy. He is about 12 weeks old, and while he looks like a yellow lap pup, in reality he is just a mutt. Here is Loki:

Okay, so Thursday evening (my *grumble grumble* X age birthday) my DH and our 2 older sons (age 8 & 6) are in our kitchen playing BlackJack. We think it's important to teach them these vital life skills early. We have our big sliding glass door open with the only the screen in. Loki is tied up out back. I glance over between hands and see a gigantic face looking back in at me. It's the bigger of the 2 St B's. My first fear is Loki. This dog could eat him in one bite. My second is that there is only a flimsy screen between this horse and my children & I.

So while the monster, er beast, I mean dog is nosing around the yard, I slip out the front door to inform neighbors their ogre has gotten off it's leash. Trust me, this is something they'd want to know. They are responsible pet owners. The few times the giants have gotten out, you usually see Little & his wife in hot pursuit. Since I didn't see either of them this time, I knew they didn't know. As I go to Little's house, I see the St B coming around the front of mine. It sees me on what he views (rightly) as his porch, and he is coming fast. I am knocking on the door as fast as I can. (I didn't mean to knock that way, but by then my hand was shaking uncontrollably by then.) And of course, no answer. The St B is now blocking on my exit. He is barking & growling and does not look happy. I decide to try Big's house, since it is his son's dog, afterall.

I manage to calmy walk past the St B, shaking and looking a lot like this:









The St B is on my ass. He wants a chunk of it apparently. I, naturally, have grown accustomed to having my ass intact. My only thought is that I was going to be mauled on my birthday. Like I said, I have never been frightened of an animal in my life. I know how to handle one that is pissed. I walk slow & calm (though inside I'm giving my best horror movie bimbo scream) and don't make any loud noise or sudden movement. Not only did I envision my mauling/demise, I tell you in my mind, I was attending my own funeral.

But I make it onto Big's porch. Barely. Thankfully, Big's wife answers my knock pretty quickly. When I tell her my problem, she gets ready to bolt back inside, leaving me stranded. Turns out she's scared of the St B's too. Again, thankfully, Big comes out to handle the situation. He yells at the barking snarling drooling dog, and funnily enough, the dog almost looks ashamed of itself. Big gets his slippers on, walks off the porch, and smacks this beast on its nose. I'm thinking Big is going to lose a chunk of his arm. And that this is as good a time as any to make my escape. So I, heroically, jump over Big's porch railing and sprint the yard to my own. I don't think I've moved that fast since I was 15. Husband and kids are at the window, watching everything. They want to laugh, but even they admit that my rail jump was pretty cool.

We tried to go back to our card game like nothing was wrong. DH did shut the big glass door, though. And Loki, my own ever vigilant watch dog, slept through the whole thing. I'm not going to tell him what happened, no sense making him feel bad about it now. But I don't think the St B has forgotten me. I think it's only the beginning.

Don't panic..... I'm here now.

Okay people listen up. Now that I have officially been put in charge, there are going to be some drastic changes around here. This has been a long time coming, but it will be all right now. First and foremost is the issue of my official title. We should have our priorities, after all. I prefer "The Fairest Queen Amanda" but only because "The All-Knowing Trash Heap" is already taken.

Don't worry, I'm keeping everything fairly simple. And there's no point arguing, I'm not listening.

Let's start with the basics: Income tax is gone. No more of that crap. From now on, everybody just keep what they make. If you make $7/hour, that is what you will take home. Daylight Savings Time is a thing of the past as well. But only because no one has ever given me a truly good explanation or reason for it. Next, there will no longer, *ever* be a change in postal rates. I'm tired of buying new stamps every six months.

Now for those important little details:
Businesses must now keep set hours for everyday they are open. Example: My bank is open from 8-4 Monday thru Wednesday, 8:30-5 on Thursday, 8-5 on Friday, and 9:30-3:30 on Saturday. That is just damn ridiculous and nobody can ever remember when they are allowed in. The bank is officially open from 8-5.

Clothing sizes will become standard among brands. Example: I bought 3 pairs of jeans from three manufacturers. They all fit me exactly the same. One pair is an 8, one is a 10, and one is a 12. Again, ridiculously complicated.

On that same note: printer ink cartridges and cell phone chargers are also now going to be industry-wide standard.

Only the driver of the car is allowed to see or speak. Just like seat belts, it will now be law that all passengers who enter a car be blindfolded and gagged. I have three kids, I don't think I need to give an example on this one.

All movies will now be given an intelligence rating as well as a violence/language one. So that really dumb movie can be rated PG-13/D- and you can save the $8 on a movie ticket. I'm talking to you people who made things like Lake Placid 2 and Judge Dread.

Children's names like Ztyphannie and Braetleighn are now forbidden.

Those who have the hardest (yet least recognized) positions in the world, like teachers and nurses, are my Deputy Queens and should be treated accordingly.

And finally:
Thou shalt not yell at a police officer for giving you a ticket that you *know* you deserve
Thou shalt not throw garbage in thy neighbor's yard
Thou shalt not talk about a great party in front of those who are not invited
Thou shalt not talk or use text messaging in a theatre or cinema
Thou shalt not dispense of any body fluids in public places
Thou shalt not honk a horn/blare a radio in a residential neighborhood before 7 am
Thou shalt not take up more than one parking space in a lot

As always, these subjects are subject to change at any time, for any reason, or even just because I have a headache.

I'm leavin' on a jet plane

Well, not really of course. I'd much rather take an old fashioned, cross-country train ride. Or a luxury cruise. But my friends in the little box on my desk have given me the assignment of picking a city somewhere that I would like to visit, and explain why. I have to admit that I have dug myself a comfortable little rut, and am quite happy in it. But I can tell you where I wouldn't like to visit. ((Warning: This will be filled with stereotypes complete and toall political incorrectness and some blatant rudeness. If this offends you, just walk away))

Let's stop at Australia first. No offense to Australians, I hear y'all are friendly & hospitable folks. I'm sure your country is lovely and gorgeous. However, I watch too much Discovery Channel. I could not swim at your beaches: you have 8 of the 10 deadliest sharks hanging out in those waters. Take a nice hike or even a leisurely stroll? Nope. The world's deadliest snakes and spiders live in your parts. Awwww, Amanda, but Australia has those cute little kangaroos. Wouldn't you love to see them? Again, a large and resounding NO. I've seen videos of those little buggers attacking.

Okay, let's try England. First off, it may be a horrible stereotype, but I have to say no thanks to England because of the food. Again, no offense, but y'all's stuff doesn't even have appetizing names. Blood pudding, tripe, spotted dick, fish that's been battered & fried to death and served with 'chips.' So let's skip England and try France. First of all, the French make me feel fat, even though I am not overweight. Again, the food is going to become an issue because you just don't serve enough. And I don't like wine, so I'd probably be ostracized anyway.

Italy....who can say no to Italy? I really don't have anything bad to say here. Parts of Italy are virtually teeming with wonderful History and beautiful landscapes & architecture. So Italy is a possibility.

China or Japan? I hate crowds. I hate loud noises. I hate fish. I don't think me and Southeast Asia would get along very well.

Canada I could get into. Beer and hockey. All I need is some good prize fights and I would die a happy girl. Canada is tying with Italy right now.

Egypt would be a wonderfully educational trip. I would love to walk the same lands as the Pharaohs did thousands of years ago. But I'm not big on heat. Or sand. I can spend 6 minutes on a beach and pick sand out of my ears and between my toes for a month. So I don't think Egypt would be a good choice.

Mexico?? Eh...well....see....I like to drink fresh water and I enjoy hot showers everyday. I don't like spicy food. Tequila and I parted ways many years ago.

Africa is next on our world tour. (What did you say? I'm jumping around too much for you? I don't care) I would love to see the Serengeti's and plains of Africa. I would love to take a safari tour to see those wonderful animals in their natural habitat. But see, I sort of have this base survival instinct of not wanting to get eaten. But if you go I would love to see pictures.

Ireland/Scotland/Northern Europe area. Once again, beautiful, educational & historic, peaceful, rolling greens and ancient castles. One of my greatest dreams was to take one of those walking tours of Ireland. But I would need to take an interpreter. Oh, they speak English? I'm sure they think so. Funnily enough, I love the sound of an Irish accent. Again, no offense, but I can't understand half of what y'all say.

So, is there any region I haven't offended mortally yet? I'm probably safer if I keep my feet on the soil of 3rd Street, if for no better reason than not getting mobbed by everyone I just insulted.

I can't believe I'm almost crying over this

When I woke up this morning, my 2 year old Toddler had almost shoulder-length silky strawberry blonde hair. He has a head full of cowlicks, and it always stuck up in every direction. Nothing I could do would make it lie flat. So I didn't and it was much cuter that way. He perpetually had "bed head" from 8 am until midnight.

A few days ago, my DearHusband brought home one of those hair cutting clipper sets with all the attachments. Because he can be vain, I decided to try it out on the kids first, who needed haircuts anyway.

Both OlderSon and MiddleSon like the 'fade' look so that it is cut almost to the skin at the nape of the neck, and gets a little longer and thicker at the crown and in front. And I managed it quite nicely. We got ToddlerSon up in the chair. Now, I have trimmed his bangs and around his ears many times, but I was worried. He was really good and sat still for me and everything. Just to make a matching set, I gave him a 'fade' cut as well. I was tearing up as those pretty soft locks fell to the floor.

He looks better....much more grown up and like a Little Boy instead of a Toddler. But I've been through this before, and I know it will never be the same. Once it has been cut drastically like that, it grows in darker and thicker, and never lays quite the same. I can't believe a haircut has me all shaky and emotional.

Is she really gonna tell a story about a vaccum??

Yes. Yes I am.

Two weeks ago what I thought was a funny incident was really an episode of karma turning around to bite me in the butt.

My kids and I were cleaning the house. We were almost done and were just vacuuming the floor. Knock on the door. To make a long story short, it was a vacuum cleaner salesman. He could see and hear my vacuum ( a beloved shop vac) running in the next room, and he still tried to sell me another. I managed to get him to go away without the use of a can of mace or a pitchfork. I thought it was funny, even if the guy was clueless and rude.

Cue a week later and my shop vac dies. Ah, karma.

90% of my house is carpeted. I tried, vainly, to keep the mess to a minimum while I waiting to go get a new vacuum. My dark blue carpet in one room looked horrible with every speck showing up. Not to mention the 3 growing boys in my house not helping matters.

So I go last night to purchase a new shop vac. I'm in the vast warehouse known as Lowe's. My mother accompanied me, because trips like this, as boring as they may seem, always turn into an adventure when she is along.

Lowe's does not have my 10 gallon shop vac in size. However, I didn't realize my own shop vac was a 5 gal. Both she & I own the same kind, and we thought they were 10 gallons. So I decided to go with was the next size up: 14 gallons. First off, in that store, with its huge ceilings and 2 mile long aisles, nothing looks "too big." The box did seem oddly large & heavy.

I get home and make dinner. Now, it had been almost a week since I had last been able to vacuum and I was jonesing for a fix. The kids, who weirdly like to run the vacuum, begged to go first. Huh-uh, sweetie. This was my new toy and I was going to take the first test run.

OldestSon and I take the shop vac out of the box. This thing is a monstrosity. It is so tall that it comes up past my waist, and I am not a short person. The tank is so large that both my younger children could fit inside. My arm could easily fit into the hose.

I tentatively turn it on. The casing is a no-nonsense gray color, like this thing knew it was built to be productive and dammit, that's what it was going to do. So basically I approached it like a sleeping tiger. And it purred. Not really, but the engine/motor/whatever just sort of gently starting humming. Okay, so far so good. I put the hose to my carpet. And the carpet actually gets pulled off the floor from the force. I swear this thing has a jet engine. It is so powerful it could probably suck the hair off my head if I cared to try it. (And don't laugh. Someone must've tried it before - how do you think those old Flow-Bee things got invented?!?)

Anything that works this good can't be cheap to run. I figure I will get a $500 electric bill for the 15 minutes I ran it. But there are some pros in this mess. If the kids are acting up and romping in their room, I can probably just put the hose to the ceiling and the force of the vacuum will hold them to the floor. If my DearHusband is working int he basement and I need his attention: Schlowock! And he will be stuck with his head to the beams yelling "Turn it off for the love of Gawd!"

Other pros: No more worrying about dealing with those pesky wasp nests that pop up in the garage eaves: just shop vac it. No more stretching to get the curtains down to wash: just shop vac it. No more worrying about Toddler trying to run out the front door: just shop vac him.

I'm gonna go sweep something......

A Baseball Story.....sort of

To tell you this story, I have to begin with some visual aids. No pics, though, because I keep forgetting to take my camera along to the park.

Okay, in my teeny tiny town, we have a very nice "park" type of area. I hesitate to call it a park because it doesn't really have a name, and it's sort of laid out funny.

It sits on a nice, long rolling hill. Here goes my attempt at the visual:

_________ Up here is parking area

_______This level is a nice shelter house/picnic area and courts for
tennis & basketball

__________ This level is open and grassy. There is a nice size playground and
a few benches.

___________This level is the Little League field, bleachers
concession stand and bathrooms

After the field, the hill flattens out and the public pool sits below that. Though technically that is a separate area and cannot be reached from the park. Alleys run uphill along both sides of the park. It is only fenced in with an ancient split-rail fence. There are gates to enter at the top near the parking lot and at the bottom near the field.

I, and many many others, have practically grown up in this place. Besides those of us that were dragged here to watch older brothers play baseball, there are also a lot of parties and activities planned for the space. The town Easter egg hunt, various church picnics, you get the idea.

Each level is mostly flat, and the hills that go down to the next are between 40-60 feet long. So if you are standing at the parking area yelling, no on in the play ground area can here you. Now, to watch my sons play ball, my family and I sit on the benches near the playground. Up there, we can sit & talk & complain about the coaches, spit out sunflower seed shells into the grass and other stuff.

Baseball season has started again. Most of the year, I am usually so proud of my little town and the people in it. And then baseball season starts and that all goes out the window. I see people doing the most unbelievable things. A mother changing a diaper on the bleachers. She laid down a blanket and changed a poopy diaper. Now, why couldn't she have moved away from the other people and laid that blanket on the grass? I have changed my child like that too many times to count, as have many others.

People making out with their Significant Others, people yelling & cursing at each other. The worst, by far, are those who let their dogs run, unleashed, around the park areas. And of course, about 95% of these people feel their dog can use this area as a large & convenient public toilet without having to pick up afterwards. Now, while there is a long walkway that runs from the parking level that goes all the way to the field, that is mostly only used by the adults. The older kids run barreling down the hill at top speed. Many of the younger kids like to roll down the hill. One older 'gentleman' (using the term loosely) does not have any relation to him playing ball. But he likes to walk his (leashed) dog in the park and stop to watch the kids play. I wouldn't have a problem with that. However, before he leaves, he walks his mutt up to the playground level to go to the bathroom! He lets the dog do its business, and then he heads back down the walkway, toward the field and out the lower gate. So it's not like it was on his way or anything.

I keep telling myself to just make it through one more season, just one more. But of course, this year both of my older sons are in the Minor League. Next year, OldestSon moves up to the Majors, MiddleSon stays in the minors. The year after that, Both of them will be in the Majors and I will have to start all over again with Toddler in tee ball.

The only thing I fear

........is fear itself. Well, that might not be entirely accurate. But it's close. I am not scared of the dark, or spiders & snakes & creepy crawlies. I am not afraid of speaking in public or heights. I am not afraid of ghosts or aliens or axe murderers. Scary movies, roller coasters and such don't faze me a bit. (Once again, this is for my friends who live in my computer!) My one true fear is completely idiotic and irrational.

I am absolutely terrified of embarrassing myself. Not that I mind 'making a scene' it's more like 'making a spectacle.' The worst thing I can imagine is humiliating myself in front of people, whether they be friends or strangers. I just know that I am going to burp or fart or throw up on my shoes or something. It doesn't even have to be someone with power or authority or someone who intimidates me. It can be my neighbor or the clerk at the dollar store. The idea that I am going to do something stupid or embarrassing or worse haunts me.

After having a conversation with someone where things didn't go quite right (for whatever reason - possibly real, possible in my own overactive imagination), I will replay that for days. Analyzing everything I did or said and physically get the shakes thinking about it. I know it is completely irrational, and even a little egotistical. I mean, come on Amanda. Not everyone cares so much about you that they are going to remember you said/did that. But the fear plagues me anyway.

The fear of embarrassing myself is constant, but it only effects my life in small ways. I can not use a public toilet for 'longer' visits. What if I stink it up or make nasty noises or something and someone walks in and it smells really bad and they know it was me?

I cannot leave the house if I am feeling even slightly upset to my stomach. What if I need to find a restroom suddenly and can't? What if I can find one...and that just leads me back to me first point of probably not being able to use it anyway. What if I throw up on my shoes?

I cannot eat a large meal, especially at a restaurant, and then go on with my day. What if I get gas? What if my breath is raunchy? What if I suddenly get food poisoning and throw up on my shoes? (Can you see that throwing-up-on-my-shoes thing is the biggest?) Basically I won't go anywhere on a full stomach. If I have something to do at 6 pm that requires me to be out of the house for a few hours, I will not eat after about 10 am. Just in case.

I have a lot of trouble walking alone across open spaces in front of lots of people. What if I trip and fall? Who cares if I fall, what if I just stumble? What if my pants are sliding down and my butt is showing and I don't notice? What if I just look plain stupid? Will they laugh? You wonder why I wasn't Homecoming Queen? I would have had to take that walk across the football field with thousands of people watching me. (Who cares that I wasn't nominated to be HQ, because even if I had I couldn't have done it)

It's not that I can't eat in a restaurant or use a bathroom or walk. I just don't want to embarrass myself. And that's what it all comes down to. It doesn't matter. I just know I will do something humiliating and people will remember and talk about it and I won't be able to forget it and it will stay with me forever and keep me up at nights and then I get even more embarrassed. I told you it was irrational.

Lady in waiting...

....and waiting and waiting and waiting.

I had a few errands to run this afternoon. About 4 stops that should have taken 5 minutes each. Uh-huh. I decided to take MiddleSon along with me. I try to take just 1 kid with me on trips like this. A little quality time mixed in with some real life experience. Afterall, they'll have to go to the bank and the post office and the dry cleaners and the gas station on their own one day.

So the drive-thru bank window. Only two lanes, quite a few cars ahead of me. We wait ten minutes. I had to turn off the engine after two, or risk running out of gas (I knew I should've gone to the station first). I would've backed out, but there was already 2 cars behind me. Finally, there is one car left ahead of me. And they apparently have about 8 transactions to complete. Totally ignoring the big red sign that said "For more than three transactions, transactions with rolled coin, or business deposits, please use the inside lobby" This guy had all of this. Trust me, the weather was mild, my window was rolled down, and I could hear him complaining to the teller through the speaker that he had places to go already, what was the hold up?! When I finally got to the window my own business took about 2 minutes.

Next is the post office. I had 10 packages to drop off. These were all ready, and had the postage printed on them. All I had to do was set them on the counter and go. However, I like to make sure the clerks actually get them, so I always wait to hand them over. There is a long line. I have never been more proud of MiddleSon as we stood patiently. The first man in line was mailing in his taxes. He wanted to send them Priority, No Express Mail. Wait, he should probably insure that. Hang on, how much does registered mail cost? Do other people pay for registered mail? What sort of things do people mail that need to be insured and have a signature confirmation?

The next gentlemen in line had a stack of 4 or 5 smaller envelopes. While waiting on Mr. Tax Guy, he kept getting out of line to check out the postal mailing supplies. He'd pick something out. Put it back. Pick something different out. Put it back and grab the first thing again. Okay, I get that he couldn't make up his mind. However, when it was his turn at the counter, he had none of his envelopes addressed, and was still folding things to put in the envelopes. Dude, you just waited in line for ten minutes, you couldn't have taken care of that? He bought his stamps and mailing supplies and decided to stand right there by the clerk to fill out everything. I distinctly heard the sweet grandfatherly-looking gentleman behind me mutter "Come on, asshole" After a minute, the clerk saw this and asked him to step aside. He moved over a quarter of an inch. The next man was right in front of me. Thankfully, he was only buying a few stamps. Uh...not those ones. Do you have anything different? Ugh, is that all? Okay I'll take those first ones you showed me. I need 5. No, 6. (Clerk rips stamps out of a standard book) Actually, I better just buy a book. (Cashier hands over the book she had been tearing his stamps out of) Can I get a whole one? Thankfully, the cashier gives him the icy-glare-of-death and the man buys his not-quite-whole book of stamps. My turn! Clerks know me very well. They know that my postage is bought online and my packages are always ready to go. All they have to do is toss them in the outgoing bins. She looks, oddly, relieved to see me.

Okay, luckily the gas station is self-serve, I'm thinking at this point. No waiting on cashiers or other customers. There are 4 cars waiting. The other pump is out of order. Despite the line (or maybe because of it) things move quickly. Until the car ahead of me (of course. What else would you be thinking by now?) He has six 5-gallon containers in the bed of his truck to fill up. I decided that if I try really really hard, I can convince my car to run on fumes for a few more miles. The power of suggestion is a strong one indeed. I leave the gas station with MiddleSon asking nervously from the back seat, "Will we run out of gas again mom? Will dad have to come get us? Will we have to walk?!?!" He has been extraordinarily patient up to this point.

Normally, when Toddler-free, I like to take my time in the grocery store. Check out the sales and browse for a good deal. But because I am the mother of 3 children, I have learned to speed shop. I know where everything in the small store is and can buy a weeks' worth of groceries in 15 minutes. Luckily, I have no complaints about the store today. Until (you knew this was coming) I got into the parking lot. Very Nice Lady (VNL) was unloading her cart into her car at the same time I was. VNL was parked next to me. VNL remarked that the weather sure was unpredictable lately, but gee it was nice today. She hoped it would hold out. But no, it looked like it was going to rain. By now, my cart is unloaded, MiddleSon has returned it to the corral, and I have shut the trunk. I am fidgeting with the keys in my hand. I have the drivers door open and one leg in the car. VNL remarks how quiet and and well behaved MS is. I thank her, and say I better get home to fix some lunch. VNL says oh yes, she knows how growing boys are, eating all the time! Eat you out of house and home! She really is very nice, but I have already been gone an hour and have more to do. So I take my, "Oops my cell phone is ringing" escape route and duck into the car.

Back to the gas station......no cars! Yippee! I fill up my tank, which leaves me about $4.22 left in my checking account.

Drycleaners for some dress clothes I will be selling. I have my ticket. I have my money. But I have no patience left. And of course, the drycleaners is closed for lunch. I absolutely have to get these clothes today so that I can get them sold. I make a plan. Not the smartest or best thought out, but it is a plan nonetheless. I decide to try and drop Son and groceries off at home and then swing back to the cleaners. All the while trying to avoid letting Toddler see that mommy's car is in the driveway. When I get home, Toddler finally notices that I have been gone. Without him! (I'd snuck out so he wouldn't see me go, I am a bad mom). Oh the horror! The terrible horrible unadulterated PG13 horror! Toddler throws a fit. I give up. The drycleaning can wait until another day.

So I am home. I am tired. And I realize I forgot to buy milk. And mail the bills out. And take my mother's tupperware back. There's always tomorrow.....

Not to brag....

...but I sure do like me. I am always busy, yet I never seem to get everything I want done. I am always tired, but then I feel guilty for going to bed early or sleeping in. I spend hours in the kitchen, but dinner sometimes feels half-assed and there's always one more dish in the sink. I can speed-fold the laundry, but one more load is always waiting in the dryer. I spend hours working with the boys on their school subjects, and they're still behind their grade level.

That said.....I do like me. I like my life. I like my husband and kids. I like my house. I like my work-at-home job. So for my ehellion friends behind my computer screen, here we go......

I like me because I know:
I am not the tallest, but I am not the shortest.
I am not the smartest, but I am not the dumbest.
I am not the skinniest, but I am healthy.
I am not a supermodel, but I am not ugly.
I am not a vigilant house cleaner, but I don't live like a slob.
I am not a comedian, but people always laugh at my jokes.
I am not the most athletic, but I can teach my kids to play ball.
I am not the busiest, but I am not lazy.
I am not a gourmet cook, but I am creative in the kitchen.
I am not super frugal, but I am great at finding deals.
I am not the most gracious person to walk the earth, but I am not a total bitch.
I am not drowning in money, but I am not drowning in debt, either.
I am not Super Mom, but no one else is either.
I am not the greatest friend one could hope for, but I am a good listener.
I am not the perfect sister/daughter, but I am there when they need me.

I like me because I can laugh at myself. I can make the darkest situation slightly better. I am the one you hear laughing *not disrepectfully* at the funeral. And making others laugh as well. I drive an old beater and make jokes that I wish it was stolen so I could get the insurance money. I have rolled dimes to buy gas while I have money for the kids birthday presents in the bank. I have bought gifts and cards for my family and friends when there was absolutely no reason or special occasion except that I like to make them smile. I cook dinners for people home from the hospital or with new babies and then serve frozen pizza at home. I have worn the same pair of boots for 5 winters while my kids get new cleats for every baseball season. And I actually like all that about myself. It's what makes me the Best & Worst. And it's what makes me -me-

Hey! Bunnies don't lay eggs!

This is a story about my Easter woes. But to tell you about Sunday, I have to tell you about Saturday.

I am fairly active in my church. Even though I am not in a position to donate hugely in a monetary way, I volunteer a lot of time and effort. To make sure there would be a nice variety of food for the Easter lunch after services, the ladies who wanted to participate drew foods from a hat rather than having a typical pot luck sign up. Two ladies and myself decided to work together in my kitchen Saturday morning. I drew baked beans, another drew potato salad and the third drew 'hot dessert.' Fine, good, nice easy stuff. Each of us also volunteered to hard boil 3 dozen eggs each. There is a movie night for the kids on Saturday night, and we were going to let the older ones color the eggs (the younger ones were painting wooden eggs....we were smart about that!). Those eggs would then be used as part of the egg hunt Sunday afternoon.

So that's how my Saturday went. I was busy, but I was happy. I've been in a bit of a slump lately, and working constantly took my mind off of things. Saturday night it was my Sister-in-Laws turn to shuffle the boys to movie night. Afterwards, we did our own egg coloring and by the time we sent the boys off to bed, I was dead on my feet. But I managed to put the kids baskets together and tidy the house up. It is well past 1 am by the time I get to bed.

Easter Sunday! Yeah, hoorah! Wait...I forgot I was an adult and there was no basket with 2 lbs of sugar waiting for me. Ah well, I can steal some from the kids. We do our own little mini egg hunt and the kids dig into their mounds of sugary delight. I notice my toddler is playing with a (now cracked) egg and sort of picking at his basket. He is glassy eyed and has a fever. Joy. Because of a minor heart condition, he gets really high fevers with no notice and no other symptoms. They spike quickly, like within 10 minutes, and get up to 101 or 102 degrees. Scary, but I have learned to handle it pretty well. My Darling Husband could handle it, but he gets nervous. I decide to stay home. I call another mom, who agrees to pick up the kids and my dishes for church.

After 2 hours or so, Toddler is feeling better. The fever has come down, but he is still a bit lazy and listless. I decide to try and hit the end of church services and be on hand to help during lunch and the egg hunt. I arrive at the church at the tale end of the sermon and manage to sneak into a back pew. Then I head down to the kitchen to help if I can. Now, the deal was that some of us drew food, while others drew services. I know for a fact that 3 members drew kitchen help. Basically setting out silverware, serving the food, filling drinks. There were supposed to be at least 12 people in the kitchen. There are 4. So I help and skip lunch. When it's time to take the kiddos out for the egg hunt, I told the youth director I was going out front for a cigarette (away from the kids) and she could find me if I was needed. Two puffs into the cig, I was needed. There weren't enough people to help out the littlest kids (in the 1-3 age range). Wait, I said, I don't have a kid in the 1-3 age range here. Toddler is at home. Where are all the 1-3 age range parents. They are finishing lunch. Harumph (I always wanted to type that). Must be nice. Some of us never even started lunch. But I help. The hunt only takes 15 minutes or so, but 10 minutes in my cell rings. Toddler is feeling yucky again. Can I come home? Surely dear, surely. By now I am ready to escape.

That afternoon, Toddler is feeling better and I take him and his older 2 brothers to visit family. Not only do my parents make up baskets for them, but so do my aunt & uncle and my cousin's family. By the time we leave, we have enough candy to supply an army. The good thing is that now they have so much they really won't notice if DH and I snitch a piece. Or four. or eight. However, I don't know what we will do if the kids grow up and like Snickers.

Finally something wonderful happens. My brother & SIL call and would like to have my older 2 come spend the night. Trust me when I say that I could see the shining golden light and could hear the angels singing. At least I would have them out of my hair for a night.

Two hours after they are gone I realize how sorely mistaken I was. Toddler is so very attached to his older brothers. So that when they are gone, he is like a lost child. Think "Lord of the Flies" type lost child. He has no direction, no anchor. I see him slowly de-evolving from lack of companionship. Do DH and I qualify as companionship? Of course not. We're parents, and that's an entirely different species altogether.

My Easter evening is no more enjoyable than my Easter day. It is well after 7 before I realize that the only thing I've eaten all day is a mini Reese cup and a handful of jelly beans. Am I cooking for just us? Hell no. Cheese sandwiches and corn chips all around! Toddler is not happy with me. And quite frankly, neither is DH. I appease the 2 angry men in my life by allowing them full access to the other kids Easter bounty. They are sated.

The moral of this story is that there is no moral of this story. Children of the world....please remember that wonderful holidays for you are often like working a 22 hour day for your mother. At least I have a couple of months before the next one.....

Check me out. I am so badass..

67%

21

I could never get the hang of Thursdays.....

I woke up yesterday morning, realized it was Thursday, and then realized Sunday was Easter. And then I panicked. Three kids + no Easter baskets = mutiny. So I needed to go shopping, but that would have to wait until Dear Husband returned home from work.

I managed to get through the day. And then things got worse. They always do. But this time it was my fault since I needed to head to the dreaded and revered WalMart. Oh the great and powerful WM.

As I was walking out the door, DH decided he needed new jeans, and would I pick him up a couple of pair?? Now, the last time I picked his pants out for him, it was disaster. Even though I bought the exact size, the exact cut and the exact color he wanted, he didn't like them. They were too tight. They were too snug on his legs. I must've bought the wrong ones. Far be it for me to tell him he'd just gained a little weight.

WalMart was mobbed, as usual. But I don't think it had anything to do with the approaching holiday. People just go crazy over that big yellow smiley face announcing that this WAS $19.99 AND NOW IT'S ONLY $19.49!!!!!!

Then I head to the food section where I buy enough eggs to feed a small contingent of soldiers. I look around, but there is no egg dye nearby. Isn't WM like the king of upselling? Wouldn't putting the PAS coloring next to the eggs be a smart idea? Apparently not. Thankfully, a lady next to me was also stocking up on enough eggs to ride out the Apocalypse. She had egg dye in her cart. Oh thank you, lady who was better prepared than me for directing me to the egg dye. Which was on the completely other side of the store.

Next up was the promotional Easter candy aisle, also located in the food section. It was so crammed with carts and people that I made a game plan before I navigated through it. I have three kids. But damn near everything is packaged in twos, fours or eights. Or sixteens. Now, I'm a smart girl, but do you know what I'm going to have to go through on Saturday night assembling three baskets out of that mess? Anyway, back to my game plan. I stuck close to the shelf, and I walked, without stopping, and started grabbing three of everything I wanted. I won the Blue Ribbon for Easter shopping. I navigated that whole aisle in about 4 minutes. Go me. But I got to the end, and no egg dye here either.

So I have to traipse across the store to the aisle near the greeting cards and school supplies. Which of course, is where I would naturally think to look for egg dye. I was so flabbergasted at what I saw that I am still not over it. An entire aisle of Easter toys and doo-dads. Since when did Easter become a holiday akin to filling up a Christmas stocking?? Easter toys, Easter games, Easter yo-yos, Easter silly putty, Easter stickers, Easter Pez, Easter temporary tattoos, Easter checkers, Easter plastic jewelry, Easter....wait.... Monopoly? What?!?! Yes, there was a mini Easter Monopoly game. Now, I know in our health-conscious world we are trying to keep our kids from becoming obese. But this....this was just ridiculous. I got my egg dye and got the flock out of there.

I was one of the lucky ones. I only had to wait in line 2-3 years. I mean minutes. I was behind someone who had only a moderate cart full, she was youngish, and like me, sans-kids. That is usually a good sign. But no. She had a few coupons (I can live with that), Was that price right? (Come on lady, it rung up .21 cents extra) She was paying with a check (you couldn't have started filling that out while your stuff was being scanned?) and then wanted to chat with the cashier about how it was soooo busy and she wondered why she could never seem to get out of this store quickly. (I'll give you three guesses, but you're only going to need one)



I am getting in my car. Dear Husband calls. Was I planning on making dinner for the kids? Um....I am 20 miles away from home. That is physically impossible at the moment. And what did he really expect me to say, no, I am going to turn the kids out into the wild and let them fend for themselves. Well, the boys had some friends over, so could I maybe pick up dinner? I ask him if he could just order pizza. The kids don't want pizza, they want McDonalds. Now he knows I hate those golden arches. I hate the food, I hate the smell, I hate the whole corporation. But I am tired, and I, stupidly, agree. Okay, well.... He proceeds to give me the longest most complicated order I have ever heard. Are you writing this down? No, because I am currently doing 65 MPH on the highway, talking on my cell phone to you, and trying to keep the milk from falling on the bag with the eggs. Oh yeah, he says, I also want 2 Big Yucky Sandwiches with no lettuce, extra pickles and tomatoes. And large fries. And a shake. He is so lucky I love him.

Surprisingly, McCrap gets my order right and I manage to leave with money still in my checking account. Sort of. However, what I didn't take into account was that 6 boys between the ages of 5 and 10 don't ever really know what they want when you take their order. Everybody wanted what the other person had. I left the food in a pile on the table and left them to fight it out.

And just to really reinforce the idea that I can't get the hang of Thursdays....I let the boys talk me into having these friends over for a sleepover. Please save me.

I turn my back for one minute.....

Let me preface this by saying my toddler (2 years old) is fat. No horrible Maury Povich-worthy fat. But he's really really chubby. He is also a nudist. He hates clothes. I can get him to keep his training pants on, but that's about it.

Now, I was cooking dinner yesterday. The toddler was 'helping' mommy. And by 'helping' I mean he was dragging all the pots and pans out and banging on them loudly with a wooden spoon. He would also occasionally try to scale the pantry shelves. What would I do without that kind of help? My older 2 boys decided to play outside before dinner. Fine. Great, actually.

Toddler disappears and becomes very quiet. Any mother of a small child instinctively knows this is not good. The naive ones might think 'Oh, the little dear has gone off to amuse himself.' But us veterans are thinking 'Great, he's probably dismantling the computer or trying to put the turtle in the VCR.'

I happen into the study. Where, thankfully, I find him. He has found a pair of my Middle Son's pants. (which, oh lord, almost fit him even though Middle Son is 4 years older) He has also found OlderSon's shoes, a pair of gloves and a toboggan. He was trying to make a break for the (*locked*) front door. (Hey, I told you I was a veteran, what did you think?)

Trust me people. He may look cute, but that is all just a way to lull you into his trap.

I will admit I'm related to you just long enough to tell this story

A conversation about family heirlooms has brought back some old memories.

When I was 6, my grandmother died, though my grandfather was still alive and kicking. My grandparents were depression-era, so they didn't really have a lot of 'stuff.' Though what they did have was well-cared for and very nice.

My family at the time was (and still is) very close. But mainly the ones who looked after and spend time with my GPs were my father, his sister, and her family. My father had one other sister who had 4 daughters, and each of those daughters had spawn. I mean kids.

I was only 6 at the time, but there is something I remember clearly. My cousins (much older than I and most were already married with families) and a few aunts and uncles were going through GPs very small house and marking items with their initials on masking tape. Hey people! See that old man over there? This is his house and his stuff. And last time I checked, he was still breathing! You wanna lay off the greed for 5 minutes!?! And also the last time I checked, you came to visit this man maybe once a year. Didn't you just get mad at him for not knowing your kids' names? That's because he's hardly ever seen you or your spawn (kids, I meant kids).

Fast forward 5 years to when grandfather dies. Because of his religion, there is no will. Same greedy relatives come pouring out of the highly polished woodwork. And Cousin M? Nice try on getting the house, but Pap had already signed over the deed to his other daughter. The one who remembered him. (Good thinking Pap, I always knew you were a shrewd old guy)

In the end, the relatives that cared for my GPs ended up with very few of his possessions. But we got what we cared about. See while we were busy, you know, actually mourning the death of the family patriarch, the greedy relatives were busy carrying the lamps, dishes and end tables out the back door.

The Battle of The Brands

Well, battle of the corporations really, but I thought that title sounded too spiffy to pass up. I'm going to relate a story involving 2 huge and well-known corporations. If you can deduce the particulars, good for you.

I was the recipient of a High-Priced, High-End Electronic Unit (HPHEEU...but we'll shorten that to EU for the stupid people, you know who you are......maybe you don't know who you are) as a lovely Christmas gift. This EU has many functions, but is primarily known and used for only one. Which was the intent with which it was purchased for me. (okay, end of hokey legalese language, I swear)

This EU was manufactured by Huge Conglomerate #1 (HC1) and sold by Huge Conglomerate #2 (HC2).

The EU was used sporadically from Christmas time until just a short week ago. So basically, about 2 months. One day, a VCR tape was inserted into EU and jammed. Literally jammed. Not going in, not coming back out. EU shut down and refused to power back up. Now, me being a human begin who has walked this earth for almost 3 decades, I decided to troubleshoot. Nada. Because of the nature of this EU, I was not about to try and extricate the tape and possibly damage the EU or make it unusable for its main purpose. So I decided to contact the customer service number for HC1.

That was my first mistake.

Did I insert the tape normally or was it forced? Sorry ma'am, but I've been using a VCR for pert near 20 years. It was inserted normally. It won't power on...okay, did you check to make sure all the cords and wires were connected properly? Why didn't I think of that?!? Of course I checked, stupid.

Basically, I started out being as polite as I possibly could, but it all went down hill from there.

The receipt was located by the givers of this EU. We discover it was purchased 5 days before HC1's 90 warranty policy. So basically, sorry, we can't help you unless you'd like to pay $XXX and ship the EU back to us. Where we will examine it and get it back to you within 8-12 weeks. Did it matter that the EU was not even used for 30 days after it was purchased? Certainly not. And of course, the service fee could only be paid by money order or cashiers check, and I would be responsible for shipping costs. And insurance if I wanted to be sure the EU actually made it there and back in one piece.

Frustration rising. I decide to place hope over experience and try to contact the place where EU was purchased, HC2. HC2 is not known for its friendliness or excellent customer service. I seriously doubted they would take back the defective machine since it was past the 90 mark for them as well.

Here's the pleasantly surprising happy ending. HC2 is willing to take back the EU provided I have the original receipt (check) the original box and everything that came with EU. (Hehehe...I am such a packrat...I had it all!)

We box up the EU and take it to HC2. When we arrive at customer service and present our issue, the CS workers have already been informed of it. Turns out, the man I talked to on the phone called ahead to let them know I was coming, and to accept the EU. What?!?!? You mean I didn't have to try and explain my problem to 6 different people 10 different times? Excellent!

But wait, there's more......

When we go back into the electronics department, Man from the Phone (MP) is there to help me pick out a replacement EU that matched the features of the one I had. They were sold out of the original EU, and I wouldn't have wanted the same type anyway. MP even carried the new EU back to the customer service desk to help with the exchange. I was in shock I tell you. Pure shock. I walked out of HC2 expecting the Customer Service Gestapo to pull me up and explain that it was all only a test or something.

The best part in all of this? MP tells me that to get credit, HC2 will ship it back to HC1 for service. Which HC1 will do for free. And then EU will be sold as a refurbished unit for about half the original selling price. HC1 really screwed themselves by not just fixing my EU in the first place! Ah...wonderful irony.

Okay, I lied again, as I seem to so often do around here.
EU was a DVD recorder. HC1 was Magnavox and HC2 was Walmart. I think Walmart deserves a little credit here.

Dear Person Who May Never Enter My Home Again

Dear Person (formally known fondly as 'Friend')

It was unexpected to see you the other evening. I would have said it was an unexpected pleasure, but unfortunately I cannot tell a lie. Well I can, but I don't want to.

It has been many months since you had graced our home with your presence. Initially seeing you brought us joy. And then you had to go and open your mouth. The joy evaporated soon after.

I can only say that you seemed to have changed so drastically since your last visit that I can only hope one of two things has happened to you. Either A) You contracted some rare condition that caused you to develop a major personality disorder, or B) Your evil twin/clone was sent in your place. That said, we still tried very hard to spend a tolerable evening with you.

It so happened that when you arrived dinner was almost completely prepped. Luckily it was that much-beloved crowd pleaser: pizza. Ah, pizza, so versatile! A yummy favorite that can accomodate innumerous dietary restrictions and varied accounts of taste. I was glad that I had chosen to make 2 of those 8 inch medium sized cheesy wonders.

Your single glance at the 'adult' pizza told me that you would not be partaking of it. (I guessed as much by your comments of "Ewwww, onions make me gag!" and "Yuck....banana peppers. Nasty!" These comments were of course, accompanied by unneccesary facial contortions, hand gestures, and the timeless 'fake-vomit' gesture.) This was all actually a good thing, since my husband generally likes to eat a whole one of these himself.

So you had to resort yourself to grazing over to the 'kids' pizza. Classic pepperoni and cheese at its finest. What you are not aware of is this: the children and I cannot consume a whole of these pizza pies in one evening. I know this, and I still make too much on purpose. You see, reheated pizza is one of the best lunches a busy mom can have. But guests are guests, and I consigned myself to not having seconds on the following day. What I didn't consign myself to was not even being able to eat firsts! You really should make a note to yourself that a guest should not help themselves to six slices of an eight-slice pizza.

But all that aside, Person, for now at least. We have two major areas of congregation in our home. The study is mostly off limits to guests, as that is where school studies and work are dealt with. The other is the living room. Cluttered, comfy and inviting.

Person, I know you realize we have an extensive collection of videos and DVDs available to watch. This does not mean I am a rental agency. So no, I wouldn't let you take just those 7 DVDs with you to watch at your other friend's house. This also does not mean that you can take the disc I was watching out of the player and pick your own from the shelf. Especially not when the movie of your choosing happens to be a 2 and a half hour badly dubbed French werewolf movie that I have already viewed 42 times.

The thing about my house is, Person, that I keep a variety of pillows and blankets folded (quite out of the way) in the corner of the living room. These come in handy when you want to wrap up on the couch, or when the children have friends over for sleepovers. I am, also, very particular about these items. You see, I would not let you crawl into my personal marriage bed to get comfortable. So I don't know why you thought it would be okay to dig through the pile of (neatly folded) blankets to find "the softest one." Do you wonder why you couldn't find it? Because, I had the 'softest one.' Strange how I like things like that in the comfort of my own dwelling.

Now despite all of the above mentioned things there is one finality that I cannot overlook. See, I put up with a lot from you that evening. Not the least of which was that you dropped by unannounced at 6 pm on a Monday evening after a long 3-day weekend. The problem was that apparently you didn't notice something I figured was quite obvious. After 9 pm, when the children were bathed and sent to bed, did you not wonder why my husband and I had quit contributing to the conversation and were trying (without too much subtlety) to hide our yawns? I know you lead a mostly responsibility-free existence, but a lot of us do not. Yes I am aware that I work from home, and that the boys are homeschooled. That does not mean we do not rise early. When i finally ushered you out of the hosue at 11 pm did you not notice the coldness of my goodbye? Or the fact that I hastily shut the door behind you? Or the sound of the deadbolt being quickly thrown into place? Or maybe the fact that I turned the porch light off before you had even reached our front steps?

Maybe not. But I do hope notice that I will not be answering your knock in the future.

Yours Truly (Fed Up),
Occupants of the Home You Will Never Enter Again

eBay Sellers Speak Out Against Feedback Policy Changes

This thread pretty much says it all.

Hope you don't plan on buying much from eBay after May. There may not be many of us around by then.

But on the bright side: Check out my eBay store as I am clearancing out EVERYTHING and closing as soon as the inventory has sold out.

This is the pertinent information on the new changes, directly from the eBay site:
http://pages.ebay.com/services/forum/new.html

eBay Shoots Itself in the Foot - Signs Its Own Death Warrant

From the latest changes in the [sarcasm]wonderful [/end sarcasm] world of eBay, to be taking effect soon:

This comes directly from an eBay email

Seller Update: Fees, Rewards & StandardseBay buyers want value and selection from sellers they can trust--and good sellers deserve rewards for delivering great customer service. That's why we're making a number of important changes that may affect you:
Reduced Listing Fees You asked, we listened. We're reducing Insertion Fees and adjusting Final Value Fees to lower your up-front cost to sell on eBay. You wanted free Gallery, now you've got it--plus more feature discounts.
Lower Insertion Fees
Making Gallery free
Lower fees for Gallery Plus, Picture Pack, and Feature Plus
Rewards for great sellersThere will be discounts and incentives for those who satisfy customers best. Who decides who gets rewarded? Customers do, by giving sellers high Detailed Seller Ratings (DSRs).
More search exposure through Best Match
Fee discounts for PowerSellers
Increased protection for PowerSellers
Feedback ChangesSignificant changes coming soon will increase buyer confidence and showcase good sellers.
Buyers will only be able to receive positive Feedback.
Positive repeat customer Feedback will count and Feedback more than 12 months old won't.
Negative and neutral Feedback left by the buyer will be removed for transactions in which a buyer doesn't respond to the Unpaid Item (UPI) or if the member is suspended.

Check out that part that's bolded in bright red. Nice, huh? Way to encourage those sellers!
The new changes are going to kill the site. The rate changes aren't what's upsetting people, its the new no bad-feedback-for-buyers thing. LOOK AT THE EBAY MESSAGE BOARDS AND READ THE 800 THREADS GOING ABOUT HOW WRONG THIS IS!!!!! Ebay has always catered to buyers, and pretty soon that's all they're going to have because sellers will be leaving in DROVES over this. This new system will leave us sellers wide open to scammers and untrustworthy buyers. Buyers may be supposedly more fair about the ratings they leave, but it opens us up to NUMEROUS false claims. This new change is akin to signing the death warrant for an already faltering site! Don't they care about sellers? You know, those of us people that are the ones paying THEM all the money to list? They are so concerned about getting buyers to the site that they forget buyers don't pay eBay ONE RED CENT! I can tell you one group that will be thrilled about these changes - eBAY COMPETITORS!

eBay has always told us that Feedback is both trading partners voluntary opinion of a transaction. Well now, that means my opinion can only be positive? I don't think so!

Now, we can have buyers bid or BIN our listings and then send a nice ASQ that states "Leave me a glowing positive feedback within 24 hours or you'll get a big fat NEG" And what are we going to do about that if it happens? Nothing....eBay has taken that right away from us!
Not only is this supremely unfair to those of us who are trying to make a (substandard) living, but I'm fairly sure it is not entirely legal.

Please, any eBay sellers reading this: Add your voice to the rest of ours. There are currently multiple petitions on the eBay forums to stop these outrageous changes.

At least we're safe until she procreates....

I'm going to preface this post be saying I hate to cook. Or at least I used to. Then the kids came along, I became a SAHM, and fish sticks and take out pizza just didn't cut it anymore. I am not known as a fantastic cook, but I am infamous as a creative cook. I think it's my inner Mad Scientist that loves the idea of combining many foreign items and turning them into something edible. Usually. I can turn a Thanksgiving turkey into 20 different incarnations. Pork chops and chicken breasts are my medium for art.

Now I am going to relate a story that is entirely true, but names have been changed to protect the terminally stupid. Our characters today are SP {Smarter Person} and DA {Dumb Assistant}. Admit it, you thought I was going to call DA something else. Geez you've got a mean streak!

So the characters: SP and DA. The setting: A normal kitchen

SP is at the counter, showing DA how to make homemade taco seasoning mix. Cheap, tastes better than the storebought, easy. There is a skillet of ground beef cooking on the stove. It is time let loose the inner Mad Scientist and begin mixing things. Ground beef is drained & rinsed. Seasoning & water have been added. SP is adding a little extra salt to the mix, and salt shaker slips from hand, allowing some salt to pour into the burner SP & DA are using. Some, for people who can eyeball measurements like SP can, being about a teaspoon or so. Here's where it gets interesting.

DA: Whips skillet off burner and quickly turns the dial to off
SP: What in the hell are you doing?
DA: You spilled salt on the burner! Are you trying to burn down my kitchen?!?
SP: Calmy brushes excess salt away, turns burner back on and replaces skillet
SP: Do you remember before Christmas when the grease caused a little flare up on the back burner?
DA: Yes.
SP: Do you remember what I poured on the burner to quickly stop small fire from becoming big fire?
DA: Yes. You grabbed the big container of salt and dumped it on there.
SP: Gives DA a fixed stare, trying hard to keep hands on skillet and off of DA's neck
DA: (realization sinking in) Oh! Hahaha!

In all fairness, DA is not truly dumb. Clueless and naive....yes.

Okay, end of narration, confession time begins. When I first started cooking I cook make about 3 things that didn't come out of a pouch or box that you just added water to. Spaghetti, scrambled eggs and baked potatoes. (But I could bake a mean corndog, damnit!) I learned, with a lot of help from those pouches and boxes. I was clumsy at first. (But again, in all fairness, I am uber-clumsy IRL. Walls walk in front of me and I trip over lint on the floor) I spilled ingredients, cut myself, and burned everything from the corn muffins to my fingers. I can now cook a full T-Day dinner while reading a Harry Potter novel and teaching math to a second grader at the same time. So, I can forgive some initial stupidity. Hell, I invented intial stupidty.

But if I, oops, I mean SP, am to continue giving DA cooking tips, I need to know if anyone out there has a hard hat, an asbestos suit and some strong sedatives for sale.

Geez I stink at this

You'd think by now I'd have the hang of all this html junk, but....no. So I'm still playing around. Consider this another test. But this was so damn cute, I had to try it:

Big Crumbs??

Just one more bit of shameless plugging. Trying out yet another new site to try and get some traffic to my store. Let's see if this works:

BigCrumbs Shopping for eBay and more!">

Amanda's Little Bit of Everything

Okay, a little bit of shameless self promoting here while I try out a link to my eBay store.

http://stores.ebay.com/Amandas-Little-Bit-of-Everything_W0QQsspagenameZMEQ3aFQ3aSTQQtZkm

Books, DVDs & VHS, games, clothes. I guess that's why I called it 'a little bit of everything.'
I also work as a Trading Assistant, and am always willing to take on new clients. Contact me through eBay if you're interested.

Okay, end of self-promoting. For today anway. But expect more to come if I can ever get the ebay-to-go logo thing to work. ;-)

I'm back! New...not so improved

I can't believe it's been almost a year and a half since I posted. I actually surprised myself by even remembering my original log-in and password to the site. My life is so hectic, I almost forgot my address when I was ordering pizza earlier.

I wish I could say that my life has changed soooo drastically, but really, not so much. With 2 elementary-aged boys around the house all day, plus the Toddler, I'm in a bit of a rut. Even if the older boys were in regular public school it would still be rough. Ugh..terrible twos. And if one more person tells me that the three-year-olds are worse, I'm going to do one of two things. I'll either A) get myself fitted for a straight jacket and rent a nice padded room with a view; or B) smack them. Option A is not as much fun, but probably won't get charges pressed against me either.

Well, there is good news. we finally moved into our house about a year ago. we'd been remodeling forever. It's still only about 2/3 finished, but it's better than shelling out rent. There are bonuses to living in a house-in-process. Firstly, we don't have cabinet doors or anything on the kitchen cabinets, so grabbing things and putting dishes away is easy. But we don't have any regular doors on the interior of the house either. Like, for instance, on the bathrooms. Now, I live in a male-dominated household. I gave up any pretense of privacy or dignity a long time ago. But visitors still find it a bit disconcerting.

And the biggest bonus of all was getting rid of my pain-in-the-ass mooching brother-in-law. One day, when I can look back at the year and a half he lived with us and find humor in it, there will be a 20 page blog post about him. And if you're reading this, BIL, you know who you are, and good godamn riddance.