Wednesday, August 27, 2008

Let's Make it Quat

I had been suffering from blogherrea, then blog stoppage. I had no camera, and now I have no computer. The tech gods are punishing me for some deeds in my past life I am sure...... I have kids going to school, one not going to school and lots of other blog-interference. I hope I get regular soon. The discomfort is killing me.

Now onto my improg word Kumquat.

I grew up in lots of places. Navy brat. But spent my formative years (self-defined as ages 7-12) in Pascagoula, Mississippi.

We did lots of things as kids in Mississippi in the summertime including:

* playing baseball using piles of oyster shells as bases (whose lousy idea was that? I still have a scar under my eye from sliding into home)

* going into the woods looking for BigFoot

* fishing for croakers

* walking to the store to get a slushie

*singing Dixie songs (I have an 8-track tape somewhere to prove it)

*improving our 'girls only' tree fort ( we painted it in psychedelic rainbow)

* catching fireflies

* avoiding water moccasins

* finding turtles and frogs

* throwing cans of cream soda down under the clubhouse on a pile of oyster shells to make a tiny hole that would spray the soda into our mouths

*swimming all day at the pool or the beach (The latter stopped when Jaws was released...)

* piling our girl scout cookies into a red wagon and trying to deliver them in the neighborhood while fending off the boys trying to ambush us

* throwing dirt clods at the neighborhood boys

* setting traps in the dirt paths in the woods so the boys would crash into them on their dirt bikes (Hmmm.. we were pretty bitter about the cookies thing)

* playing barbies and riding banana bikes

* sweating always (it was humid)

* watching 'Solid Gold' and 'Soul Train'

* making up our own 'Gong Show'

* drooling over Scott Baio, The Hardy Boys and Leif Garrett

* playing our KISS album

* playing kick-the-can

and finally... we would sneak into the neighbor's backyard and pick off some kumquats from their tree. My mouth puckers just thinking about it. We would eat a few, then decide all of the peeling for the little bit of sour flesh was not worth it. They did, however, make great ammunition along with our stock of dirt clods. So we would load up our red wagon or banana bike baskets and be on our way.

Saturday, August 16, 2008

Dirty Little Secrets.........


So I thought I would celebrate by letting you know a little more than you bargained for........

Dirty Little Secret Number One

My new kitchen sponges are now SpongeBob/Smurf hybrids. I am not certain how this happened.....

Dirty Little Secret Number Two

If I get another piece of equipment that comes with another cord/connector/adaptor, I am going to strangle someone with it.

Can't there just be one cord that connects everything????

Dirty Little Secret Number Three

My daughter is an interior design extraordinaire. She has chaotic taste wouldn't ya say? Hmmmm... I think I see a sponge wrapper in there......

"Patrick (a live animal) run for your life!" The live animal is not the white furball just above. That is a dead dog. No really it is a purse. Yes, a purse.

Dirty Little Secret Number Four

I hardly ever wear a bra. Here are the ones I hardly ever wear. I have had these bras at least 8 years now and somehow they still do fit........with the new occupants and all....

Dirty Little Secret Number Five

One of our German Shepherd Dogs likes to swim. We are pretty sure he also pees in the pool, yet we let him swim anyway.............

Dirty Little Secret Number Six

My dear husband and I squeal with glee, almost pee our pants laughing, when we think about this old Staples commercial. Maybe we should do a reenactment since 'tis the season........

Dirty Little Secret Number Seven
Our oldest son is obsessing that he is not going to live forever and neither are his parents. It is heartbreaking........... In fact it is 10:00 pm right now and I am letting him watch the Olympics so he doesn't think about it as he tries to fall asleep.

enough dirty laundry for now...... going out to take some more pictures!

Tuesday, August 5, 2008


Today I am improgging the word SASSY.

I used to be sassy. Of course, having a teen-aged body didn't hurt in this pursuit. They didn't call me Wonderbuns in high school for nothing ;)

Let's just say now I strive to be sassy. Sassy is a goal. I have some great sassy friends. Hayley are you there my brave and bold friend?? Trust me, you can learn a lot from her. Life is so much fun when you can dress up like the Mona Lisa, Danica Patrick, Betty Crocker and Miss Piggy all in one day.

Today in my Sassy Fantasy Life I would:

1) tell my husband I need a wife to help me get all my stuff done
2) watch Desperate Housewives and not be embarrassed to tell anyone that I love the show
3) wear clothes that were made for 20-year olds
4) go out on the field and help my dear husband coach his bantam football team
5) bring home some stray cats
6) drive a Porsche convertible
7) call people right away on their BS phony crap
8) wear a shirt that says F*CK CANCER
9) tell people that are walking around Target with their bluetooth to stop freakin' talking to me
10) honk and wave at the car with the bumper sticker that says "Honk if you're horny!"

So what are your sassy goals? Let's make them happen! Seize the day! I am going out to look for some stray cats now. See you later!

Friday, August 1, 2008

Facetious Recipe

So today I am improgging facetious. My morning brain synapsed a facetious way to figure out how I ended up getting breast cancer.

After the shock and awe of my diagnosis I wanted to know WHY in a big way. Was very let down that no amount of asking or searching was going to get me my answer. So I came up with my secret recipe theory:


1 basic human body(genetics included)
many foodstuffs (eaten over a lifetime)
20+ years of various environmental factors
a few sprinkles of exogenous and endogenous hormones (pregnancies, nursing, birth control pills, HRT-pick one or more)
1 or 2 key viruses (exact virus and circumstances unknown)
some exercise (maybe not enough)
A few stress events
A dash of bad luck
A pinch of why me

Combine and bake at 98.6F for 30-60 years and voila!!!
the perfect breast cancer served on a silver pan, rush to pathology.

I am throwing out my apron....................

Are we there yet?