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Thursday, January 31, 2008

My "Potential" Phobia Challenge (to myself)

I like to scrapbook. I really enjoy it. It's fun, creative, crafty, and it's a great way to preserve and capture the moments in my children's lives and capture life in general -- as these moments seem so fleeting these days. But, it takes a LOT of time and a lot of space. At least, for me.

This layout below took me most of six hours. I go back and forth a lot before I make anything permanent:

(I did not shrink the size of the pics, in case you want to click and blow them up.)

So, I've found myself in the rut where I haven't "scrapped" a thing. With exception to the 2 page Layout I did in early November to submit for a contest at the local store in town here (which, by the way, I won.) :) I credit this "rut" to the fact that I really don't like starting something I can't finish -- or at least get to a designated stopping point I have pre-determined.

And, there is really no reason for this since I now have a room [the office, workout, guest room] with my table in it and the closet basically full of and designated as my "crap scrap center." Formerly, in our old house, I only had my table at 2-1/2ft x 5ft. And, although very organized it obviously was lacking for space. So, there is no reason why I shouldn't be able to start a project and "leave it" to return later, without worrying about little piddly hands disheveling my work.

And, yet, I haven't scrapped a single page. Because I am inhibited and developing a phobia. And, knowing me, if I let it progress I will eventually be completely in-efficient because we all know we can't actually finish everything we start, every time, with children in the house. So....

Today, among other things I challenged myself. I challenged myself to just "jump right in" and scrap a two page layout. BEFORE, I picked up the kids. That only gave me two hours. That is not a lot of time for me because, I am very...very, detail oriented and as previously mentioned I like to go back and forth a million times before I "commit." So for now, here's what I got:

I know. It's not much. It's actually still kinda in the "draft" stage. It is very, very plain. I usually have TONS more ribbon. Typically, I use at least two patterns of paper for a one page layout. And, I like to use more brads, some stitching and add lot more dimension. (I love those foamy sticky doo things that actually "lift" your pictures off the paper.)

But, they are framed. They are placed. And, the journaling cards are made. It isn't finished -- it's a start. I met my challenge and I kicked that soon to be all consuming "phobia" out of my mind. I "jumped right in." And, when I had to stop ubruptly to pick up the kids....I left it...still unfinished. And, I'm [almost] okay with that. Happy Scrappin'

Wednesday, January 30, 2008

Burnt' Toast

So, I burned the toast this morning.

Yesterday was one of those days that start out great like a slow peaceful ride at the theme park, until you turn the next corner and realize your on the wrong ride and THIS ONE has the fear inducing flips and drops, and by the time you get off your adrenaline has your heart beating out of your chest and your stomach is lying on the floor in front of you.

So, today I woke up fresh and new. Today is a new day. A day to do things better, and make up for the "oopses" and "crap-Os" of the day before. Today, my heart will beat at a normal pace and my stomach will remain within my abdominal cavity.

{Siiiigggghghhh} I burned the toast. And, burned toast has a way of staying with you all day long. The smell lingers as a constant reminder that you were flippantly irresponsible. I was watching it ever so carefully and then? Within' a the click of the second hand on the clock -- it went from soft bread to black burning squares of charcoal. Not even a browning warning. From fresh to BURNT.

I did not give up though. I quickly raced to the door to expel the charcoals and their smoldering stench outside, and I tried again. This time, I did not burn the toast. It's was quite pleasantly crisp and tasty. So, today will be better. Today, I will succeed magnificently in all things.

Although I am a good hour behind my schedule of errands for the day, I resolve to myself that today....will NOT BE a Burnt' toast day.

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

WWC, Pride and Circle

Some of you may not know, but there is a weekly word challenge for taking pics. Pics are to be posted on Tuesday of each week. So, this is my word challenge post for this week (Pride, Circle):

My son, and his spelling test....this is "Pride."

This is my daughter's round and beautiful blue eye....
And lastly, I watched this morning's sun....rise.


Monday, January 28, 2008

About Mail....

So, whether you get it here....

Or, here....

We've all got [get] mail. If you are in any way attached to ANY address: Be it residential, industrial or professional, Apt., PO Box, or IP address... you get it. Mail.

And, mail is a GOOD thing. I, personally, LOVE mail. I always have. Even the junk. I know, I'm an oddity [yet, again]. But, to me? It's like tiny little pieces of Christmas and Birthdays all wrapped up together and delivered all year long.

It means, someone...knows you are there. Someone knows YOU are a someone. Even if you are a number or a are still important somehow in some way. It kinda' proves you aren't living in "The Matrix."

Mail, means you are blessed. You are a HAVE rather than a HAVE NOT. If "you've got mail?" There is a really good chance that you have a home [as opposed to being homeless].

If you have bills [that come in the mail], then you have credit or income, or at least the things that incurred the bills.

If you've got junk mail, you've probably got....well, kindling to make a fire should you be cold, or something to wrap some fragile stuff in, or a whole lot of spam to fill up your "deleted mail box" (but isn't it a good feeling when you purge it?)

So, Yes, I love mail. The old fashioned and the PC [MAC] kind. It's like little unexpected surprises in my day. And, I like all the mail. I look forward to it.

I find it, a little highlight to my day.
I'm a Glass Half Full Gal, maybe that's why I see it that way.

Saturday, January 26, 2008

For the love of a doll.

I hosted a toy party tonight. Not THAT kind of party, a real "for children" Discovery Toys Party. A good friend of mine has taken this up as a hobby and they have exceptional, educational, fun stuff for kids! To re-iterate, the kids have FUN, while they learn.

So, my friend left ALL the toys with me a day early, for ME to paruse and enjoy. But, where there are toys? There WILL be children. They have an indescribable sense...for toys.

Upon discovering the toys [and, playing with several], that have been previously "tested" by my friends own children -- a doll, a pretty little princess doll -- was, left behind. My daughter promised to play with her and return her. But, those of us who have been "here" before, know it never goes quite that easily.

ME: "Where is the baby princess doll?" MY DAUGHTER [stating her case]: But, "Mama" she left her there ALL alone. She forgot her there, Mama? "Can't I keep her? She'll sleep....right...under my pillow, where I can keep her SAFE!"

Her sweetest of sweetest voice tugs at my heart a little as I explain that Mrs. T had to take the doll house, un-announced, in order to bring it here in order to "display" the doll house....and, Little Miss J didn't have a chance to check to see what was left inside.

My little Princess abliges, though unhappily, and places the the tiny little doll in my hands. And, then leaves with Daddy, and Big Brother for dinner and other "away from home" plans.

How did it end? What great friends we have! Mrs. T leaves the doll entrusted to my "doll," indefinately....or unless, Miss J notices her missing. It's lucky for my little Doll that her friend, Miss J, is so much younger than she and that Mrs. T is such a generous Mom. Thanks Mrs. T! It meant the world.... Ms. A will be so happy in the morning!

This is the "Princess, in training." You have to admit she is too cute with her little ballet slippers and pink tiara. How could a four year old NOT fall in love with her.

Friday, January 25, 2008

Top Model Barbie? I think not.

So, I’m at the local Wal-Mart [kids are along and happily cooperating so long as the snack holds out] in search of a V-Tech Smile game for our sweet “niece Jamie” as she is turning three.

As we are searching for the V-Tech Smiley game isle we come upon the Barbie/Princess isle. And, what do I see before me ? “Top Model” Barbie. Only, she isn’t dressed like a Model, to me she looks more like a Hooker.

Now, I have no problem with Barbie herself. I love her! [Except for her high pitched happy little voice; after three back to back rounds of Barbie Island Princess it can get a little annoying]. Some people complain she looks “too perfect.” Well, I’ve met a lot of people in this world and several of them actually do look that perfect, naturally. So, I see nothing wrong with marketing those blessed by beauty perfection. But, WHAT is Mattel thinking?

Since when does “Barbie” wear black fish net panty hose? NOT the Barbie of MY DAY. And, to boot? The recommended age reads 3+. Um, what? Are we raising prostitutes in training? “Here Honey, practice putting the thigh highs on Barbie…it’s not easy Honey – you really gotta’ work at it!” These dolls need at least a PG 13 label.

I guess there are either a bunch of college frat boys interning for Mattel Co., or a bunch of horny old men are running the company. Either way, it ills me that these half clothed, trashy looking dolls are being marketed in this "fashion" as an acceptable way to dress. What impression is this making on our litte girls? If THIS is "fashion" then keep it on the run way, not on my daughter's Barbie doll.

Here are the pics I took at the store [apparently, there is nothing odd about taking pics in a store with your "camera" phone]. So, you decide for yourself:

So, we've got black fish nets, green thigh highs and pink tights. OK, so the pink tights are cute and at least she's fully clothed.

There was this one with RED thigh highs, a black mini skirt that didn’t really cover her tush, and a halter top displaying her naval! Oh, and she had a hairpiece with a red stripe (to match the thigh highs, I guess.) SHE's the one that really got me ranting and raving. I took a pic, but I accidentally deleted it.
SO, I went to every website I could find about Barbie but Top Model Barbie in red thigh highs could not be found! Apparently, “red thigh high” Barbie was even too trashy for MATTEL to post. But I sware to you – she is out there! I’ve considered returning to the store to purchase her myself as a lesson to my sweet angel of “how NOT to dress.”

And, with that being said, I’ll now step off my soap box.


Thursday, January 24, 2008

"Dinner Serenade"

Dinner time tonight: DH is at the "V" having a few beers with his fellow farmers, probably discussing the rain we've had, the price of fertilizer, the crop market and maybe who shot what "at the lease" last weekend. Meanwhile, at home: Me, Mason and Aubree are eating our "Nacho Chicken, baked potato fries and green beans" and all is going well. Suddenly, my daughter decides to serenade us with the "sweetest" of dinner songs. Here's how it goes (and from what I can tell, to the tune of "A Bicycle Built for Two.") Never, Never, Never pick your boogars. Up Your NOSTRIL, is NOT where your finger goes! Don't pick yourself -- a winner, 'Cuz boogars aren't -- for dinner. So, don't get caught With your finger UP your nose! During which, somehow, my son pokes himself in the hand with his fork. Yes, there is blood. How on earth? PHONE HUBBY: "Come home please...boogars, forks and blood. My show starts in 15 minutes and I'm headed to the Queen of Sheba tub." Tomorrow, I'll get into "Top Model [Hooker] Barbie." Yes, I DO have something to say about this. AND, I have the pics to go with it.

Dreary days throw me all of course...

What I want to be doing.....

What I should be doing......

What I'm really doing.......

Ho-Hum...these cold, wet and dreary days really throw me all off balance. Oh, wait, Blog's done! [I check that off the list] well, then, back on track again!
(Ms. K? You have really ruined me...)

Wednesday, January 23, 2008

Wine? Anyone? It could only happen to me.

So, I'm on my outing of errands today and one of the places on my list was the grocery store. As is typical, I meandered through the store on autopilot, grabbing appropriately priced (and nutritionally acceptable) items and placing them into my basket. All the meanwhile, my mind does wandering of its own. [It is SO nice to grocery shop without two wild, energetic children in tow.]

As I cart upon the wine isle, my mind becomes suddenly interested in what a "great" wine isle this is! I searched through the vast labels passing the wines I prefer but my pocket book does not allow, looking for my standard $5.00 favorite. [All the while wanting the "SIMI red" at $22.50 a bottle. It's worth; it's really, really good.]

Anyhow, there are so many new and unusual wines out there! Let me run down a few names I saw, most which had appropriately placed pictures to match:

"Barefoot" (the flavors/varieties are even color coded for you), "King Fish," "Fish Eye," "Little Penguin?" "Dog House," "Toasted Head" with a picture of a big brown bear (I think there is also a "Toasted Toad"). "Pink Truck, White Truck, Red Truck...." AND, for those of you with a mexican/italian flair they have "Il Bastardo."

So it hits me that I'm wearing my camera in it's backpack because I wouldn't dare to leave it in the truck. And, I think to myself -- I can take pictures of these neat bottles and share them...on my blog. So, I pull out my big a$$ camera and begin snapping away. "Mad Housewife" click..."S.O.B." definately click...."Menage' a Trois" WHAT? In red, white, and a variety mix? Another definate click... [I'm gonna' have to buy a bottle of this].

IN THE meantime, this guy [decently dressed man] comes down the isle talking to himself out loud (and he looks at ME, like I'm the idiot). So, then he tells himself via his "earbud" (I realize) that there is this "chick with her camera taking pics of the wine," to which he mumbling adds, "is she a nutcase?" He actually said that! In front of me! My face flushed and without even thinking I turned around and looked at him directly and said, "I CAN HEAR YOU! And, by the way? I am a severe alcoholic, I JUST got out of rehab, and my sponsor told me this was a GOOD exercise for me since I can't actually DRINK IT!" He looks at me like I really AM a freak, turns around and starts walking away. I know, where do I come up with this stuff.

It gets better.

Simultaneously, I get a tap on my shoulder from an employee [manager] of the store who asks me what I'm doing with my camera and that I'm "not allowed" [can you see me finger quoting here?] to take pictures of the merchandise. WTH? Are you flipping kidding me? So we debate about it and as I refused to delete the pictures from my camera (because this is totally STUPID), I am actually escorted out of the store. Out of the flipping grocery store. People are looking at me and I am flipping out inside. I will NEVER shop there, again. Of course, they probably have my picture from the security cameras hanging on the wall by now anyhow.

So, I get into my truck [SUV, whatever] with NO wine, NO groceries, just some pictures of several bottles of wine. So, now I start to feel a little stupid because afterall, who takes pictures of bottles of wine in the grocery store. And all of this? For my stupid blog. Anyhow, click on the pics above to see if you can zoom and "admire" my work.

[Editors Note: It didn't really happen quite this way; they didn't really escort me out of the store. But, I did get a lot of weird looks; and the guy DID, in fact, tell his earbud "there's a chick here with her camera taking pictures of the wine..."]

Tuesday, January 22, 2008

One last one today, because, it HAS to be said....

So, I'm not really into politics, but: In Today’s news…. Did you hear? Apparently, Bill CLINTON fell asleep in the middle of a ceremony honoring Martin Luther King, Jr. yesterday. “Bill” a/k/a former President Clinton, was sitting directly behind the Guest Speaker so that everyone in the audience could see his head bobbing and flopping around. LMAO!!! Too funny! Can you hear Hillary? OMG! I mean, really! And, in an unrelated interview? He actually stated that most of the political problems in Washington D.C. are “due to [could be accounted for by] sleep deprivation.” Pardon my language, but WTH? Is he on flippin' Cracker Jacks or something? Seriously, any new mother knows that as much as sleep deprivation should truly count for the somewhat “major mistakes” or “vocal bloopers” we make….it doesn’t. And, if it doesn’t count for us? It surely doesn’t count for him. Once again, Bill Clinton, you made a mockery out of you, the rest of US, and lastly but most intolerantly, you WIFE. [Not like he hasn't done that before, oops, SMM.] I mean, if I was sleep deprived and going to be at a major function honoring a truly honorable person…and, in front of hundreds, maybe thousands of people; and, my WIFE was running for President of the United [Freakin’] States of America? I don’t care if I was kept up by crazy chato-kizmic furry @$$ aliens – I’d pop some “No Doze,” or, at least throw back a couple extra cups of coffee on the way in there! If nothing else, the urgent need to pee would probably keep me AWAKE! Criminy! All, I know is, I hope he likes his beans and likes'em plain from the stalk. Cuz’ Hillary ain’t gonna be butterin’ them for a long….long…time. AND THAT'S all I have to say, about that.

The "Squigie"

Now, I was hoping to come up with something better than this today, but it just didn’t happen. So, this is as good as it gets in an effort to try and provide a “daily dose” of my world according to ME.

So, this isn’t just any squigie. In fact, it isn’t even my squigie. It’s my DH’s squigie. Which, I guess according to the marital laws of the State of Texas, half of it does indeed belong to me. [I’d probably give on that one, should it come up, if we were ever to file for divorce.]

What does he “do” with this squigie, you ask? He uses it in the shower. Wait, that didn’t come out right. He uses it, after he showers. Let me explain….

After each shower, he “squigies” the entire shower. Glass walls, tiled seat, tiled walls, and yes the tiled floor – ensuring that all remaining water, no matter how small the drop, finds it’s way to the drain. YES, I’m serious. I can’t make this stuff up!

This squigie even has it’s own post where it hangs in the shower, always “alert and ready” to go into action when duty calls. So, yesterday morning? Just out of complete curiousity after I bathed in our shower….I didn’t squigie.

I just wanted to see if the world would fall off it’s axis (like it does with my OC quirks). And, to see, if he’d notice. He didn’t say anything. But, that doesn’t mean that he didn’t notice.

So, you see? It isn’t just me that’s quirky and obsessively compulsive about things. My DH is that way too. That’s what makes us two peas in a pod. We were made for each other. And, I love him for it! I know K., there I go bringing him "in to it" again ;)

Monday, January 21, 2008

The Mouse, AGAIN....

Okay, so remember the whole "mouse" thing from a few days ago (the electronic kind, not the field kind). Anyhow, it was a GOOD THING I kept my "spare" I purchased the other day. Come to find out? A short in the old "new" mouse. It wasn't the batteries afterall. (I knew that little rodent was the culprit of my anxiety!) We found this out "officially" when I popped in on my DH to take a quick check of my email (okay, my blog comments). So, I sign him back in and even load up his web page exactly to where it was. So, about 30 minutes later I hear the biggest RAT I've ever heard rambling through "everything" in the pantry -- it was my DH. So, after I b!t*hed "gripe-diddled"about how he's so dag'gum loud and the kids are asleep and the rest of the "nagity-nag" he probably heard in his head, I go back to bed. THREE minutes later, he's yelling, across the house mind you, about how "I" broke the mouse and screwed up the computer and gripity-gripe, moan and groan. So after we exchange some very vivid words, (well, maybe that was just me) -- I leave him with an equivalent of "flip-off" or something discourteous and disrespectful. (I was half alseep and he woke me, okay?; waking me is bad, very bad). I know, shame on me. So, this morning I come in to check my email (no, really this time) and there sits "the kidnapped mouse." I get a call about three hours later, "HEY!? Did you take my mouse??" Oops, I thought he'd figured it out when he found it and plugged it in last night. Anyhoo, he agreed that we definately needed to replace the old "new" which I finally confessed, I already did. (It was my spare).

Laundry Day

Okay, so EVERY DAY is laundry day. The baskets keep filling and I'm constantly sorting and loading the washer and dryer every time I walk by the "Utility Room." The "hang to dry" and otherwise delicate items are immediately layed flat, hung, etc. while rest is packed into the "clean" baskets at the bottom of my laundry cart until I hear those infamous words, "Honey?/Mama? I'm outa so-ocks." Chicken Biskets! I HATE sorting socks.

Because they drive me crazy! Because, I believe that not all socks are equal. The "clean looking" need to remain with their "clean looking" counter-part. The stained and ugly socks need to keep their ugly ASSets together and away from the rest of them. But, they DON'T do they? And, they like to dissappear.

For awhile I had this great idea that I would "alphabatize" them. That's what I called it anyhow. So, each pair of socks for each family member had a letter of the alphabet on it. And, it's match had the same letter of the alphabet on it. So, instead of laying out ALL the socks across the couch to determine size and stain variance -- I simply looked for the size of the sock, the letter of the alphabet, and the color of the letter (I color coded each family members' socks as well). And, WHA-LA -- perfectly matched socks every time.

But see? There slowly developed a hole in my "theory." Because, as socks age they develop holes in them. And, as previoulsy mentioned, they also like to hide and dissappear. So, I found myself with all these perfectly good socks with no matching letter, color, or pair. AAUGUGHGGH!

I've about corrected this problem, but it took me a few months as it would have been "unfrugal" to throw them all out and purchase entirely new socks. (Which is what eventually has happened, though over a several month period of time).

But, I digress. "Laundry Day." So, Sunday nights are my preferred and typical night to stand in front of the TV and fold the clothes into perfectly sorted stacks of who's "whats" that go where. All, while watching "Desperate Housewives" and "Brothers & Sisters." I am sure everyone has their own little day/time, routine for this task. Unfortunately, due to the damn writers and their damn, stupid strike -- this routine has been all screwed up. [Note to the people in charge: Give them their damn money already, they deserve it and I want my standard TV line-up back!]

Luckily, the soaps work almost as well for folding and sorting clean laundry too. So, today I was able to complete this task. My point, you are wondering? (I'm getting there)...

My absolute favorite thing to fold are towels. Bath towels, hand towels, cup towels, and wash cloths. I know, I'm a freak! I can't help it. The next best thing to folding towels is the smell of Pine Sol and Bleach (although, not together, because that creates toxic fumes. I discovered this on my own when I was about six years old.)

Anyhow, today's pic is of today's satisfying activity: two stacks of perfectly folded towels. Folding the perfect towel is a "gift" in itself. How do "I" fold them? Well, that's another story for another day.


Sunday, January 20, 2008


Can anybody tell me what the HELL is happening HERE!?

Now before you go thinking this is something nasty and your mind starts wandering into the land of vulgarity -- it's NOT porn! A) I'm not that brave, B) my husband would never allow it, and, C) y'all are just plain dirty minded!

Below is the zoom out....

So, as you can see, my FACE? Is FALLING!!

Now, I've always believed in aging gracefully. But, why not? I had always looked younger than I am. When I was 21, I worried when they carded me at the grocery store or the bar because I was afraid they'd think I was using a fake ID. And, there were a few times when they did. This luck lasted well into my 20s.

THEN, a-a-a-a-all of the sudden, I saw a little crinkle that wouldn't go away. At first, I tried convincing myself that it was a sheet line from sleeping or something. You know, when you wake up and you've slept so hard? (Probably from intoxication caused by staying too late at the bar the night before), that, the texture of your sheet fabric has imprinted itself into the side of your face? And, it takes the first three hours of the morning to plump back out?
Come on, you can't tell me this has NEVER happend to you.

Now, see below? THIS is what my eye USED to look like.

In fact! This IS my eye -- minus about 30 years.

My daughter stole it from me! Okay, so she inherited it and I'm happy to give it to her. I just didn't realize it would be quite so soon. I mean, I wasn't finished with it yet. FYI? She also inherited my complexion in all it's glistening perfection and youth.

HER eyes sparkle beautifully with their blue indignation. While mine rest upon a haystack of crows feet, squinting in discomfort. How does this happen? I was prepared. At 30, my New Year's resolution was to start "early" caring better for my skin. All the creams: day cream, night cream, eye cream, tightening cream, exfoliate, masks, and the infamous "microderm abrasion." It became a cultic ritual.

And after ALL that? For the last five years? What do I have to show for it? Lines, wrinkles, failing elasticity. So, I have learned that NO matter HOW much money I put into it all, there is no fighting it. My face IS falling and I have to just come to grips with the fact that every night another little piece caves in and becomes a wrinkle.

But, alas, I will continue sinking my money into any cream I can find that sounds half way validated...because, at least it makes me feel like I'm doing something.


Saturday, January 19, 2008

My Other Half

This is my Husband, my other half. Here he is drilling/screwing a piece of metal pipe [rebar iron, I think it is "technically" called] into the attic as reinforcement/support for the shelf he installed at the top of the garage to hold ice chests and crap.

This is his little helper. When we were building our "Bad A$$" house, Mason literally helped Scott load 36 sheets of plywood onto a trailer at Home Depot. Literally, carrying one side ALL...BY...HIMSELF. These are heavy, and I know, because we all helped carry the same 36 sheets up to the playroom to finish it out. Such a Big BOY!

This is my Hubby leveling the shelf to be sure that it's, well, level.
Isn't he HANDY?

He can do, make, build, saw, weld, ANYTHING...well, about as anything as we need. He can do a BAD A$$ job at it too, depending on how applied he is (ie: half-a$$ or whole a$$), and how important it is to him, [and, if it is important to me? how "appreciative" I'll be ;)] Honest to God!
When we were in our tiny ity-bity house, he realized that his long bed extended cab Dodge was too small for a family of four. So, he traded and "upgraded" to a crew cab FORD, long bed, 4wd! (Yea Baby! HOT TRUCK!). Anyhow, it wouldn't fit in our "pretend" one-and-1/2 car garage, so -- he tore out the back end of the garage and built in a cubby hole, so to speak, where he could pull the truck in and the front end would fit "through/into" the cubby hole! THUS, making his truck fit. He did this in matter of hours.

So although he is gripy and bitchy about 75 percent of the time, he is a great Hubby, a Great Daddy, a wonderful provider -- and so HOT, cuz, he's so damn mechanically inclined! WHOO-HOO for me! [I have to bathe the kids now so I'll mess with this crazy formatting later; I just wanted to get this online, in case "He" happens to check my blog tonight ;) ]


The Mouse

  • This is a truly valuable piece of equipment. If this little thing doesn't work, then you are absolutely "SOL" if you need to get into your computer for ANYTHING. Mine is a wireless optic mouse. We just upgraded to the wireless part. The only reason the cord is plugged in is because the new rechargeable batteries are currently being charged in the unit, as I use it.
  • Apparently, we weren't charging it correctly or "over charging it" incorrectly because this morning it wouldn't work. I tried everything! It drove me nuts that I couldn't access my email or my blog, or "Fall out of your chair laughing & CRYING"s blog. Or, see if my BB (blog buddy) had posted something new. Screwed up my whole morning routine and I started feeling an anxiety attack coming on until I realized my husband's office is 30 seconds down the road, I have a key, and I can access all my stuff from his computer.
  • So, in addition to my other errands today, I left early to get a quick "internet fix" to get me through the first half of my day. Then, I kidnapped my husband's mouse just in case I didn't have time to go back to the store. But, I did so I purchased, a: new rechargeable batteries, b: a new mouse (I know I can take it back, but I might keep it as a spare), and, c: a cushy little mousepad made just for wireless optic mice (only $5.00, it was worth it to me).
  • As it seems the battery thing was the problem, maybe I should have actually taken the pic of the batteries. Either way, treat your mouse kindly. Use it on the cushy little mouse pad designed for it. Feed it some electronic cheese. Stroke it and pet it and remind it sweetly how much you appreciate and value it's little jobs to click, scroll, and move the arrow around. (Please excuse the extra dots, this blog won't hold my formatting)


Friday, January 18, 2008

Hunting for Vermin

I am SO lucky to live in the country. We have an owl that has been visiting and I am hoping he will take up residence as we also have lots of field mice. And, I've got some great pics of a swallow (when he opened his mouth it looked like his face split in half, freaky), and I even have a picture of a hawk catching a rabbit! This guy has regularly been visiting us and floating over our coastal in search of prey. Isn't he BIG? Isn't he absolutely BEAUTIFUL?! This is one of those times I remember to appreciate God's creations and also my wonderful Digital Cannon Rebel! (Pics have been cropped and downsized for uploading but I sure hope you can capture and zoom in)


Thursday's List

This is the "List." It's how I start my day (after the coffee and making the kids breakfast). The "List" is adapted the night before to include the things that didn't get checked off. Then, the calendar is reviewed and the new events and "to dos" are added. At the bottom of the list are those extra things that probably won't get done today but need to be kept in mind. This is how the list keeps me on task.

I have several lists: this list, the grocery list, the "honey-do" list, the "one day" list, and there are others lurking in various places; each in it's own notepad designated for the type of list it is. This is "THE List," the daily list a/k/a the "Yellow Pad" list. I love yellow pads. It's not the yellow, it's the pad itself. It's crisp, businesslike and matter-o-fact.

With the list, there is always a pencil. A sharp pencil. I could use a mechanical pencil, but it just isn't the same. It feels like cheating. If you check my purse, my bedside table, my console in my vehicle, you'll probably find at least one freshly sharpened pencil. If it's not there, it's because my daughter took it. She likes note pads and sharp pencils too. You can probably guess where she gets that from. In my pantry you'll find a cup with multiple sharpened pencils (it's right next to my electric pencil sharpener). And, in the cabinet you'll probably find a package of new, unsharpened pencils -- the "spares."

Pens are nice, but unforgiving. I do usually have one favorite pen that feels "just right" in my hand. I use it for those duties that only a pen can do. Like signing checks. Thank You notes. And, other things that are meant to be permanent or that require more formality than a pencil can offer.

So, now you know one of my quirky Obsessive Compulsions. Maybe next time I'll share my quirks about folding laundry. And, those of you who know me well, know exactly what I mean ;)


Wednesday, January 16, 2008

The Rain Gauge

Every Farmer and Rancher has at least one of these things. Our family households are within a half of a mile of each other and we each have our own gauge. When the weather is on TV, the kids stifle their voices and the TV volume goes to high. Even if we just caught the weather 30 minutes before. In the mornings, it's at the quarter hour.

It's January, and in South Texas that means time to get the fields ready for laying the seed. And, we need rain. And, "It's never ENOUGH rain until it's TOO much rain," or so it seems.

This morning, Mom and Dad's gauge read at 1/2 an inch. Our Brother and Sister-in-law's read at OVER an inch. And, our's read at 8/10ths. The important thing is that, at a minimum, we all got at least half an inch. Being a "Glass Half Full Gal" I tend to go with the "OVER an inch" reading and I'm open to the good possibility that the other two gauges are faulty; at least this time around;).

Either way, the pitter-patter of rain on our tin roof last night was a welcome sound. A peaceful, sleep inducing sound. In fact, I didn't get a visit in the middle of the night from either my six year old OR my 4 1/2 year old. And, this morning, my Husband was happy and in a good mood. It's a good day.

After all, we got rain!


Tuesday, January 15, 2008

My Third Eye

Taken with my cell phone ;)


Monday, January 14, 2008

Dawn vs. Dusk

The way I start my day:

The way I end my day:


To my friends

TO ALL MY FRIENDS: Here's my little place to ramble; my little online journal to share things "I" think people would find interesting, although the rest of the world may or may not. If nothing else it's my participation to the congestion of the internet. Post your thoughts, rants, raves or just "hellos" as you please. I love you all. I know I'm not perfect (although I like to pretend) and I thank you for loving me anyway and appreciating my ecentric obsessive compulsions.