HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!

to all of my Pagan and/or witchy friends out there.

Secondly, I am sorely depressed. My man, Bob Barker, is retiring next June. He will be 82 this December 12th. I love Bob Barker. I had a crush on him in middle school. I can't believe that the man will be leaving Price. Life will never be the same.

My husband informed me this morning that Daniel Rolling finally got the needle after sixteen years. I hope now that my friend, Sonja, may rest in peace.

And don't any of you liberal, bleeding heart fuckers post anything against the death penalty here. The son-of-a-bitch butchered Sonja. They had to identify her by her dental records. I can't imagine the horendous pain and suffering she went through while this bastard got off torturing and slashing her to death.

Sonja was a sweet person. A good person. And she didn't deserve what she received. My moment is over now. Thank-you.

So sorry it took so long...It's as nekkid as Bear says I can get on the net.

Reflections and Introspections

I will be 36 in February. For some reason a few weeks ago it really hit me that I will be 36 soon. But it didn't hit in a bad way. It just...occurred to me.

I guess that I've metioned different things to my husband because he told me today that I'm really embracing this. Yes, yes I am.

As young girls we all look forward to our first bra. We're proud at each new cup size. As a few years pass, we realize that we're unable to jump and run without one. The novelty begins to wear off. Then we look forward to nursing babies, finding that bras are once again a godsend...for a while. We get weary of the constant feedings. Our babes wean and we look in the mirror and see our once beautiful breasts a bit lower than they once were. We turn to underwire for help. Some women are so dismayed that they feel the need to go under the knife to "fix" their breasts. We compare our selves to younger girls and find ourselves short.

As young girls we anxiously await our passage into womanhood with our first cycle. It's exciting, for a day and a half, until we realize that we're going to do this every month for the next 25, 35, 40 YEARS. Then we begin to resent it each month: the cravings, the bloat, the hormones. We spend an entire week complaining that it's coming. But we miss that it's that exact cycle which enables us to create life! It's a wonderful glorious thing and we bemoan it each month.

As adolecense we see our hips begin to develop and we're captivated by the mirror looking at our new curves. We use them to attract the boys and we're proud to have them. Then we age a bit and they get bigger than we might like. We begin to become uphappy with them and complain about the very things we were so enamored with as teenage girls. We grow older, have children, and somehow expect to look seventeen again.

We go through all of these changes failing to realize that there are many rights of passage in life and how we handle them will either make us or break us.

Ladies, there is nothing wrong with your breasts or mine! Mine sustained life for five precious children and if they hang a little low and swing too and fro, they're BEAUTIFUL and they're mine and they're perfect the way they are.

And there is nothing wrong with your hips or mine! As long as you're HEALTHY they're perfect the way they are, they've changed, that's all and they are a part of you. So gravity got ahold of them. So what!

We grow older and we pass from child to young lady to young woman. Now I'm turning 36, I have night sweats and my cycles are getting a bit odd and I have saddle bags forming in my thighs that I can't get rid of and I have wrinkles forming around my mouth (hopefully from all that smiling I like to do). My metabolism is slowing down so I have to be more careful about what I eat and I have to make sure that I exercise. And I need to get a base line mammogram.

And why? Because I'm passing into another phase of my life, another beautiful phase that will once again change my body and my appearance. And it's okay. I looked into the mirror this afternoon after fully coming to appreciate what is going on with my body and I really like my non-perky boobs and my less than "Hollywood perfect" hips and thighs and the lines around my mouth and I realize that these are just the marks of a happy life with a wonderful husband and five amazing children and I LIKE the way I look, every bit of it.

And as I spend the next decade passing from young woman to mature woman, I will not be anxious for it to end. I will not judge my body against the bodies of girls two phases behind me. I will embrace this change and I will embrace me and I will do my best to enjoy every little bit of it instead of trying to rush it on or longing for life which has already passed.

Because I am a woman.

And this is my body.

And it's functions and looks are perfect and running along just the way nature intended it to be.

I am a woman. I am beautiful. I will be 36 soon.

And in about ten years, we won't need to purchase condoms anymore.

Second Degree Burn

That's what you get when you overflow a jar of apples with hot bubbling syrup that is over 225 degrees. But if you keep it on ice off and on for 3 1/2 hours, amazingly enough, you get no blisters and by the next day, it no longer hurts to touch it. I'd take a picture of my hand, but my new camera hasn't arrived yet...

WHICH brings me to the next subject...

Nekkid picture coming soon

Bear has purchased me a new digital and it should be here next week. We've already discussed the shot, and it has his approval.

House Flood and Lassie's Replacement: My Dog Kaitlyn AKA Dumb Ass (See Previous Post)

Okay, before I tell you about my day yesterday, I will explain to you why I am up at 4:20 in the morning blogging.

You see, I went to bed nice and all around 9:30, but at 2:00 this morning I start to hear the pitter patter of little feet upstairs in the boys' room. Their floor is my ceiling. I figure one of them is going to the bathroom. And one of them did come downstairs to use the facilities (why they have to use the downstairs bathroom will come next). Now begins the potty parade as one by one the three younger boys all come down to use the bathroom. Then they take one of the dogs and the cat into their room. The dog and the cat start chasing each other back and forth in the room which is over my bed (except I didn't know the cause of the hoopla until a bit later). Finally at 3:11 I got my ass out of bed and went up to tell them to shut. the. hell. up. I kicked the animals out of the room.

All is well, I can now attempt to go back to sleep. My mind and body had a difficult time settling back down. I had JUST dozed off when I hear Kaitlyn start up with her Lassie immitation outside. WOOF! WOOF! WOOF! BARK! BARK! BARK! Being as we live next to a wildlife refuge, I grab my flashlight and head out to see what was going on. "What's wrong, Girl? What? You say that little Timmy is stuck in a well?!?!?! OH NO!" She had the scent of something. I did the obligatory scanning of the woods with my flashlight, but I never saw an animal out there. Although with the dense woods it's not like the flashlight is going to make it visible anyhow. I simply call the dogs up to the porch, assure them that they're great and wonderful blah, blah, blah... Can I go back to bed now? Except I can't sleep.

So here I sit blogging.

Okay, the House Flood

I'm up at my friend's (the only other house on this road) when I receive a phone call from my son. He tells me that the toilet upstairs overflode and is still running. Yeah, yeah, yeah, toilet's back up and there some water on the floor, I'm on my way. Except when I get upstairs, instead of the little overflow I was expecting, there's an inch and a half, maybe two inches of water on the floor. The toilet backed up and the flapper got stuck in the up position and the toilet ran full flow...for about 30-40 minutes.

Of course I immediately turned off the water valve behind the toilet. Not in time, however, to prevent the water from the UPSTAIRS bathroom to seap through the floor and come out of the ceiling and pour in a steady stream into the DOWNSTAIRS bathroom, which now had a good inch of water in.

And of COURSE this water went through the floor and had a steady stream flowing into, you got it, Baby! the basement!!! WEEEEEEEEE!!!

So I got out my handy dandy carpet cleaner and sucked up the water from upstairs. Then I sucked out the water from downstairs and will have to try sucking more water from the basement. You see, while the bathrooms have linoleum in them, the basement has this stuff on the floor called...CARPET...which is now damp with...toilet water...

We did end up using just about all of my ten of our our extra large size fluffy white towles to clean up the meass as well. So they were washed in hot water and bleach last night. I guess there will be no shower for me this morning when...ever...I might have showered when I got up.

If I were actually still asleep.

Six Bushels of Apples

A friend gave me six bushels of apples yesterday afternoon. To give you an idea of how much that is (I wish I had my camera), it's four large rectangle laundry baskets, a large box and two paper bags from the grocery store. I will be busy making apple butter, apple rings, spiced apple ring, applesauce, etc, for the next three days.

'Nough said. I guess I should go ahead and start making the kids' lunches now. Makes no sense to try to sleep now when I'll just have to get up in another hour anyway to get the kids to the bus by 7:00.

Alrighty, I'm over 6,000...and my digital camera is broken. I am true to my promise, so as soon as my Bear gets me my camera, the new picture will be up. Sorry for the delay, but the circumstances *ARE* out of my control.

Thought y'all might get a kick out of this. I know I did...

You Belong in 1962

If you scored... 1950 - 1959: You're fun loving, romantic, and more than a little innocent. See you at the drive in! 1960 - 1969: You are a free spirit with a huge heart. Love, peace, and happiness rule - oh, and drugs too. 1970 - 1979: Bold and brash, you take life by the horns. Whether you're partying or protesting, you give it your all! 1980 - 1989: Wild, over the top, and just a little bit cheesy. You're colorful at night - and successful during the day. 1990 - 1999: With you anything goes! You're grunge one day, ghetto fabulous the next. It's all good!

What Year Do You Belong In?

I just finished reading an article about the girl that was killed in the high school hostage situation in Bailey, CO (full article here). Now that my children are in school, after reading that article, I feel sick. I truly want to vomit. These things upset me before, but now that sudden rush of fear for my own children's safety just made me sick.

See that counter???

When it reaches 6,000 I'm going to post a nudie shot...of SOMETHING...I don't know what...

Once again, it's a blame-everyone-else society...

McDonald's and other fast food places have been receiving a lot of flack for serving fatty unhealthy food. Okay, it's fast food alright? Anyway, McDonald's has now donated $2 million dollars to fund research on childhood obesity. Terrif. You may read the full article here.

While you may find the entire article of interest, I zeroed in on one particular quote, "It's good that they are funding useful medical research, but that doesn't absolve them of their responsibility to serve nutritious food to children," said Daniel Borochoff, president of the American Institute of Philanthropy, a Chicago-based charity watchdog group.

Personally, I've always believed that it was the PARENT'S responsibility to serve nutritious food to THEIR children. After all, no one is FORCING them to drive through any fast food chain and purchase greasy burgers, deep fried chicken or potatoes to their children. And of course, no one is twisting their arms to purchase soda or milk shakes for their children to wash that greasy, fattening, calorie ridden food down either. These places do offer salads with low-fat dressing, fruit cups, yogurt, milk, juice, grilled chicken and bottle water as well. It isn't the fault of the chains that too many parent's out there are too wishy washy to say "NO" to their child or just plain don't give a rat's ass about their child's health.

I'm not going to throw stones at anyone for taking their kids out for an occassional jaunt for a burger...stress on the word OCCASSIONAL. But it isn't McDonald's fault that there are kids out there being raised on grease and fat. That responsibility falls square on the parents who continually purchase this food for consumption by their children and call it dinner. NO ONE ELSE IS TO BLAME. That is just called poor parenting.

Of course, I'd like to know when these people are going to start going after the breakfast and lunch programs in our public schools. With such offereings as children Pop Tarts, sugar coated cereals, greasy sausage pizza, chocolate and strawberry milk for breakfast and corn dogs, fries, cookie, chocolate and strawberry milk for lunch, is it really wonder our children are obese???!!! These kids get this same type of food FIVE DAYS A WEEK at school. How often do they really get McDonald's? It seems to me that if people want to start casting blame they should start at the public school food programs because they are absolutely greasy, fattening, calorie ridden and UNHEALTHY! Even salads are made with iceburg lettuce, which has NO NUTRITIONAL VALUE at all, cheese made from grease (because it's cheap) and salad dressing that is loaded with saturated fat. All heaven forbid serving these kids fat free low calorie dressing, right?

In the end is still comes down to the parents though. Until the PARENTS take responsibility and start demanding truly healthy food for breakfast and lunch at school (or take the time to pack healthy nutritious food for their children like I do) and stop driving through McDonald's, all of the research isn't going to do a damned thing.

But that's just my opinion.

So many things to tell you...

Let's see, we had our first EGG!!! Fresh from our hen's backside! Isn't it PUR-DY?!
Yesterday I actually watched an egg fall out of Gordy's butt. For some reason, this excites me.

After the egg laying decided to lay out in the sun for a while. It was in the high 70's, but with the sun right on me it felt warmer. I laid out totally nekkid because WHO'S GONNA SEE ME???? Yeah, I walked around nekkid as a jay-bird for a while too because WHO'S GONNA SEE ME???? I love my country life.

I've been up since 4:00 a.m. You see, last night Bear said he was thinking about me and then he thought about tornados. Being the superstitious person I am, when it began storming terribly outside at 4:00 this morning (I swear we had lightning that shook the house), I just KNEW that we were going to have a tornado. So I didn't sleep.

That's why it makes sense that I ate chili at 8:00 this morning because I'd already been up for four hours.

I like chili.

Second post of the day...

You go, WILLIE!!!

Willie Nelson Cited for Drug Possession

LAFAYETTE, La. (Sept. 18) - Willie Nelson and four others were issued misdemeanor citations for possession of narcotic mushrooms and marijuana after a traffic stop Monday morning on a Louisiana highway, state police said.

The citations were issued after a commercial vehicle inspection of the country music star's tour bus, state police said in a news release.

"When the door was opened and the trooper began to speak to the driver, he smelled the strong odor of marijuana," the news release said. A search of the bus produced 1 1/2 pounds of marijuana and 0.2 pounds of narcotic mushrooms, according to state police.

Nelson's publicist, Elaine Shock, declined immediate comment.

Also cited were Tony Sizemore, 59, of St. Cloud, Fla.; Bobbie Nelson, 75, of Briarcliff, Texas; Gates Moore, 54, of Austin, Texas; and David Anderson, 50, of Dallas.

Each was released after being issued a citation.

Nelson, 73, has recorded songs including "On the Road Again" and "City of New Orleans."

Fuck.
Fuck, fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Yup, still shitty...

I had a shitty first half of the day. Anyone else?

My Father's Last Dance

It was November '03. My in-laws and my parents were at our house in Florida. My father-in-law was playing the piano and my parents were singing. My Dad's voice grew tired and he just listened to my Mom and father-in-law. I asked him to dance. I helped him out of his wheelchair and supported him while we danced. I don't remember the song. I remember him getting tears in his eyes because he hadn't danced since his stroke December 2000. He never thought he would dance again.

Dance With my Father Again

Back when I was a child
Before life removed all the innocence
My father would lift me high
And dance with my mother and me and then
Spend me around till I fell asleep
Then up the stairs he would carry me
And I knew for sure I was loved

If I could get another chance
Another walk, another dance with him
I'd play a song that would never ever end
How I'd love love love to dance with my father again

When I and my mother would disagree
To get my way I would run from her to him
He'd make me laugh just to comfort me(yeah, yeah)
Then finally make me do just what my momma said
Later that night, when I was asleep
He left a dollar under my sheet
Never dreamed that he would be gone from me

If I could steal
One final glance
One final step
One final dance with him
I'd play a song that would never ever end
Cause I'd love love love to dance with my father again

Please Vote for my New Icon

Choice 1

Choice 2

I took the kids to the drive-in to see Barnyard. The movie disturbed me. Let me tell you why...

All the cows were heifers.

ALL of them. Ben and Otis (father/son), the MALES who did the protection of the barnyard, had huge, engorged udders where their bullness should have been and no horns. Now, I'm not sayin' that Ben and Otis should have had huge bull dicks or anything. I'm just sayin' that the farmer didn't have huge breasts and the male dog didn't have teats. So WHY did Ben and Otis have udders?

It bothered me the entire movie. SERIOUSLY.

And I wasn't the only one. Everyone at that drive-in now think that those people out in California are stupid.

Beyond any comprehension.

They're stupid.

Look, my 13-year-old didn't grow up on a farm. He's never seen a bull up close. But he noticed. He knows that male cows don't have udders. So what the f*ck is WRONG with those people???

Look...

This is a heifer. See the lovely udders???

This is a bull. No udders, just a dick and horns.

This isn't rocket science. I need to send these images to someone in charge. Maybe I'll send them so someone at Paramount and Nickelodeon. Hmmmm...

Suddenly, I like Britney...

I've often wondered what the draw was to Lindsay Lohan. So when there was a set of photos of her in various bathing suits I decided to see for myself.

The girl has no hips. No shape. No figure real figure of any kind. Her legs are skinny and scrawny. She looks like a boy with boobs. Seriously, I don't get it. She looks undernourished.

And she's an airhead.

Every quote I've read of hers makes her sounds stupid. STUPID.

And Hillary Duff? Eat a damn Big Mac or three. Your head is way too big for your body. That goes for Nicole Ritchie as well.

Ritchie use to have this cute little figure until she went on a hunger strike.

Now she's a walking stick (that's an insect that looks like a stick...saw one the other day...the country is cool like that).

The only thing I can conclude is that these girls aren't as well off as we all think. They must not be able to afford food. I'm thinking about starting a fund to feed undernourished starlets...because DAMN! they look like they could pose as starving children for one of those feed the world organizations.

Seriously.

Breast Implants Save Israeli from Rocket

Rueters
Updated: 6:11 p.m. CT Aug 15, 2006

JERUSALEM - An Israeli woman's breast implants saved her life when she was wounded in a Hezbollah rocket attack during Israel's war with the Lebanese group, a hospital spokesman said Tuesday.

Doctors found shrapnel embedded in the silicone implants, just inches from the 24-year-old’s heart.

"She was saved from death," said a spokesman for Nahariya Hospital in northern Israel. The woman has been released from hospital.