It could be worse...

A mother walked by her son's room and noticed that the room was neat, and the bed was made.  Then she saw an envelope, propped up prominently on the pillow that was addressed to 'Mom'. With the worst premonition, she opened the envelope with trembling hands and read the letter.

Dear Mom:
It is with great regret and sorrow that I'm writing you. I had to elope with my new girlfriend because I wanted to avoid a scene with Dad and you. I have been finding real passion with Stacy and she is so nice. But I knew you would not approve of her because of all her piercing's, tattoos, tight motorcycle clothes and the fact that she is much older than I am. But it's not only the passion...Mom she's pregnant.

Stacy said that we will be very happy. She owns a trailer in the woods and has a stack of firewood for the whole winter. We share a dream of having many more children.

Stacy has opened my eyes to the fact that marijuana doesn't really hurt anyone. We'll be growing it for ourselves and trading it with the other people that live nearby for cocaine and ecstasy. In the meantime, we will pray that science will find a cure for AIDS so Stacy can get better. She deserves it.

Don't worry Mom. I'm 15 and I know how to take care of myself. Someday I'm sure that we will be back to visit so that you can get to know your grandchildren.

Love,
Your Son Paul

P.S. Mom, none of the above is true.

I'm over at Dustin's house.

I just wanted to remind you that there are worse things in life than the report card that's in my center desk drawer.

I love you. Call me when it's safe to come home.

Guests and Fish (and Ducks)

Ben Franklin said, "Guests, like fish, begin to smell in three days."  This man never had ducks.  About two weeks ago, we had a couple of visitors:

It was always a male and female and they were interesting to watch, and cute.  Who doesn't like ducks?  While I was out of town last week, Robert said they came back and brought a couple of friends.  I like to think that my pool is G-Rated, but I think they may view our backyard oasis as The Grotto at the Playboy Mansion.  So, we kind of enjoyed our visitors and let them party at their leisure until I noticed that they were not picking up after themselves.  Oh, and we aren't charging them anything and never asked for a deposit. 

This is how they repay our generosity:

My pool is cleaned every Tuesday.  The poor pool guy doesn't know what he's in for this week.

Now I don't know what this duck ate for lunch, but he has a serious GI problem.

I'm thinking he should probably schedule himself for a scope because this is just not right.  If anyone has any ideas how to get rid of unwanted Grotto guests, please let me know.  Those ideas should not involve a firearm of any kind, because they are still really cute even if they are disgusting.

Guest Post

Since I was out this week and didn't have access to a computer, I wasn't able to post this earlier.  I have it now, so enjoy!  Thanks, Marsha for helping me out and sorry for the delay.  I would like to challenge all of you to be without a computer in another town for 5 days while you're not on vacation.  Go ahead, try.

 

Melissa is incommunicado and asked for a sub.  I'm sure she will regret such request...especially if Maxine is reading the blog.

Valentine's Day was exceptional but for the fact it landed on a Saturday.  Well...that for me was bitter sweet.  My husband and I spent a "married 10-years-romantic" night at home.  I cooked of course but received a sparkling gift.  Not so bad.  For the past five years, I have scheduled my "yearly" cervical invasion on Valentine's Day but this year had to schedule on the 16th.  I know that sounds...well, disturbing, but I consider it my gift to Dr. Cullan.  I figure if I've gotta suffer, then there's no reason not to make it hurt for him too.

I love the posters in the exam room showing the stages of pregnancy.  I'm 44, and as I stand "nude" changing into the extra-petite gown, and lookin' down at my physique, poochin' out my stomach; wondering what trimester I would be in if I weren't post-menopausal, I then thank God.  Why is it this stage of life has the word "pause" in it, and it doesn't mean everything is put on hold?  When can I say; so I can't get pregnant anymore, no longer have to stock-up on feminine accoutrements that I've been having to carry in a beach bag, and putting an end to those raging emotions I've been in denial about for, oh,... 30 years?  I'm just kiddin'.  Sweet, Dr. Cullan, with his sausage fingers said I would not have the pleasure of menopause for 8 years or so.  He always knows the right
things to say.   He always shakes my hand and says, Marsha, do you feel bloated?  I say, do you need new glasses, Doc?  He says, are you irritable?  I say, I'm here on Valentine's Day, aren't I?  Doc says, how are your periods?  I say, I can't wait for my next one.  He then talks about how busy he's getting and having to move some patients around and there's a new great Gyno in the building.  I say, see you next year, Doc.  Happy Valentines.  Tell, your wife hello.  Oh, and my daughter is selling Girl Scout cookies, as I whip out an order form. 

On a lighter note, I've seen many comments from Melissa's friends that have chittlins.  All children are wonderful but let's not fool ourselves into submission.  I have five.  Not all from my loins, but all of them now mine.  Greg and I married 10 years ago.  And when we did, my daughter, Mallory, was five.  Mallory started kindergarten at a Catholic school.  The pressure of a sinner like myself having wonderful kids in Catholic school is still insurmountable... but I'm fakin' it just fine.  When Mallory was in second grade and picking her up from school of an afternoon, I caught her in the hall.  Pretty as a plumb in her little plaid jumper, with the appropriate ankle-covering socks, I threw my arm around her small shoulders.  Sister Mary Catherine appeared out of nowhere.  Proudly, I stopped and asked Sister Catherine about an upcoming project that was due.  As Sister and I discussed it, Mallory was slung against my hip.  My Angel butt-in saying; "Mom, do we have a Bible at home?"  I said, "Mallory, you know we have a Bible at home," as I tucked her behind me, pinching Mal's arm and thanking Sister for her service to God, I hustled Mallory out to the car...nagging all the way.

Mallory is a Freshwoman now and picking on more than one Nun a day.  We should all pray for God to be with the Nuns that instruct the Potter kids.

Out of Town

I'm traveling this week without my computer, so the posts will be light or nil.  If anyone would like to do a Guest Blog, let me know and I will post it.

Have a great week!!

Valentine's Day Treats

This is the sheet cake that I sent to school with Taylor and to work with Robert.  It is a really old recipe of my Grandmothers.  Let me know if you are interested in the recipe.  It will bring back memories!  The picture isn't great, but each individual piece of cake is on a doily.  After all, would Valentine's Day be complete without doilies? 

A little humor at Albertson's

Isn't it crazy how there is advertising everywhere?  The most outrageous ad placements are the pull down tray on the airplane, and the lane dividers in the mall parking lot.  Some I don't even notice.  I'm not sure how long they have been doing this, but they put ads in the grocery cart at the far end facing you.  This was what I had yesterday:

How funny is that? 

Boring

I haven't posted much lately because there is absolutely nothing going on.  Oh, I did get the job.  I start next week.  I'm reluctant to release many details because not all the paperwork is complete and I don't want to jinx it.  I will give full disclosure soon.  So, this week has been running around town Mach 5 with my hair on fire (love that saying!) trying to get everyone organized with everything they will need next week while I am away.  That includes to and from rides to football 3 days a week, weightlifting 2 days a week, and dance 6 days a week.  Really, all I am is a car service.  I have threatened to look into how much it would be just to hire a car to take these kids around.  Seems cheaper than a nanny, and they don't really need to be "babysat" anymore.  Yes, but that would require too much effort and it is my last week of freedom.

We could talk about the crazy lady who wants to look like Angelina Jolie who just had 8 kids because she needs attention.  Nah, too easy.

We could talk about how I am knee deep into all this training, and I try to keep my workouts posted on the blog so you can see that I am really working at it.  Wouldn't you think that doing all that exercise would make you lose weight.  Nope.  I've gained 5 pounds.  Just goes to show you, it's all about eating.  Or not eating.  Oh, and it's not muscle.  Muscle doesn't jiggle.

We could talk about Valentine's Day and what a stupid holiday it is.  Seriously, what is the point?  Unless I'm getting really expensive jewelry, I'm just not that into it.  Do people really need reminded to do something nice for their significant other? I have to be creative for all these other holidays (birthday, father's day, anniversary).  Frankly, it's exhausting.  I'm making a cake for Taylor's class.  Will post the photo later today.  Didn't you love/hate Valentine's Day at school?  It took so much time to pick out the right valentine for everyone, because you didn't want the smelly kid in your class to get the wrong impression.  How tragic would it have been if one said, Bee Mine, with a picture of a bee on it and he thought you wanted to go together.  Gasp.  Also, when did buying presents for your kids come into play?  I thought this was more for your sweetheart, not your children.  Everyone knows we love the children better anyway.  My friend, Lori, always said it best when talking to her husband, "These are my children.  You are just some stranger I met in a bar."  Don't you love that?

The pressure that comes with Valentine's Day is stifling.  The pressure to come up with a good gift.  The pressure of the women in the office that get flowers, and trying to persuade everyone in the office through clenched teeth that your relationship is fine even though the louse didn't send flowers.  Not that you really want them anyway because it is a waste of money, but it's all about the show.  What about the pressure if you're single?  Do you know that Valentine's Day has a very high suicide rate? 

I say we revolt.  I do have to make the stupid cake, and I will probably get the kids a candy heart, and buy my husband a card, and probably make a chocolate soufflé, and some huge dinner, but nothing else.  After all, I'm not celebrating.