Home Fires Burning...

Great, I'm living with a firestarter.

Last night as I sat doing what I usually do on Monday nights, watching Hoarders and proudly feeling like the Queen of Clean, a faint smell of smoke wafted through the air. I immediately jumped from my seat yelling "FIRE", but I have to be honest, deep down I knew that someday this moment would come, and I felt quite smug as I anticipated standing in my driveway surrounded by fire trucks wearing underpants. Back to the story... The smell of smoke was strong as we searched the house only to find that the smell was isolated to Wyatt's room. It wasn't outside, it wasn't in the bathroom, it wasn't in the kitchen and it wasn't upstairs. Was it a wonky electrical outlet? Curtains on the baseboard? Was Jose' Chip some sort of demonic fire pig sent here by the forces of darkness to destroy us? I was starting to freak out a tiny bit but I knew I had to be strong for my family and maintain a level head so I could lead us safely from the raging inferno. As it turns out, as I was going over exit strategies, counting dogs and trying to decide how much food to pack to sustain us in a time of crisis, 6 was going over every inch of Wyatt's room and that's when he found it. The smoking gun (fire pun intended). A recently extinguished candle and a beat up Bic. I started to shake like a woman gone mad as my finger uncontrollably rose to the front of Wyatt's fearful face and my voice rose to levels that even the neighbors could hear and it was without control or restraint that I yelled WHATHEFWEREYOUTHINKING!!!!! But I didn't say "f", I said the whole word just like my Mother used to say to me. The smell of smoke was beginning to fade as tears rose to my young son's eyes and I realized that maybe, just maybe I was having some sort of psychotic break and needed to step off a minute. I took a deep breath and decided the best way to fight this fire was with love and I then went on to explain to him that it was because I loved him that he was grounded from the t.v and internet for the forseeable future and that if he would have just friGGin told us he had lit a mother f'n candle this whole freak show could have been avoided. I also told him that there was never ever any reason to be afraid of me and that he could tell me anything, but I don't think he was on board with that last night and I think I see a little bridge building in my future.

As Wyatt quietly and albeit fearfully settled down in his chair with a book and I settled back down in front of my program, I began mentally assessing my parenting skills and that's when it hit me... When I was eleven years old I was a chain smoker and if memory serves me correctly I think I may have even been engaged. So all in all, I guess things aren't so bad, I just need to get a few more fire extinguishers.

Morning Report

What a weekend...

For those of you just joining in, my family moved to Oregon in 2006 to care for my aging Grandparents and stayed after they passed to take care of the "farm" (my menagerie) and the property. The house was originally a barn that my Grampy painstakingly turned into a beautiful home that my Grammy painstakingly filled to the brim with every piece of sparkling glass and tchotchke she could get her hands on from every Goodwill, thrift store and estate sale in at least three counties. Now, mind you, when she was here to keep the place up everything was always white glove ready and very Taj Mahally and museum like and that was great, but put my family, three dogs and countless other pig sty inducing elements into the mix and you have one giant chaotic clutter filled nightmare. Add to that, my grandparents were both hoarders before hoarders were cool, but my Grammy was a closet hoarder. Literally. Every closet and cupboard in this house is stuffed full of old magazines, newspaper clippings, maps, calendars and the elastic from every pair of underpants my Grampy ever wore. I'm not kidding, and don't ask, I don't know. There are half empty bottles of Flex shampoo from 1973 in the bathroom and the service manual from a washing machine purchased before the Maytag Man was even born in the utility room. So the point I'm trying to make here is that we are still in the process of sorting through and organizing things in the house and if I were a betting man which I'm not because I'm not a man and I don't have enough money to bet with even if it's a sure thing, I would say this is a job we will never complete, and really... I'm ok with that. So that's how we spent our weekend and Wendy is coming out today to help me finish up, but I have to go to town and pick her up because her DBB is looking for a job today and has to use her car. I guess the job he had let him go because "there weren't enough hours" to keep him on. Ummm hmmm. Sure. I'm sure it doesn't have anything to do with the fact that he's a giant loser or anything and he's probably just going to use her car to go to douche school today to learn how to be an even bigger douche wad than he already is. Like that's even possible.

Ok, so the other thing we did this weekend was start working on the upstairs because we're turning it into a craft room for ME! 6 built me a ginormous (really huge) table and we put all my shelves up there and all my crochet stuff and soap stuff and candle stuff and craft stuff and I'll have comfy chairs and a t.v and a phone and a computer and a mini fridge and so if you need me for anything look upstairs.

He also built me a new soap mold.

And I love it.

Thats all.

Guinea Pigs and Gynecologists

Do you hate the dentist?

I hate the dentist. Not as much as I hate the lady parts doctor but I hate the dentist and that is the ONLY reason I'm absolutely thrilled not to have insurance right now. Let me clarify something before I continue. I don't hate my dentist as in the man who is my dentist, I just despise his chosen profession. I'm sure that there are many very nice people who are dentists and lady parts doctors but the thought of either one of them telling me to "open wide" sends chills down my spine.

I had to go to the dentist last year because I had a rotten tooth that was giving me fits so I went to my Mothers dentist here in Oregon City. I loved everyone in the office, and I'm not just saying that because I'm Facebook friends with some of them, I really really like them and I totally understand that in these difficult economic times you have to take whatever job you can get and that's why they're working in a house of horrors. I get that. But how do they sleep at night... Do the sounds of my little children's screams echo in their mind? Do they toss and turn in the night as they dream of drills come to life burrowing out pockets of un-numbed decay? And I have to wonder, do bad dentists go to a place with no nitrous and undergo never ending root canals by a dentist who suffers from Parkinson's Disease when they die, because if that's the case I have the name of at least two heartless M'er F'ers who need to go on that list. These are the kind of things I think about when I think about going to the dentist, and I don't EVEN want to tell you what I think about when I think about going the lady parts doctor...

And whatever you do, do not EVEREVEREVER Google images for "pap smear"

Oh my gawd, I have to go pour acid in my eyes and think about the dentist again.

Change the subject.

Wyatt got a pig :)

He was such and emotional wreck yesterday, so I decided to take him to town with me and I had every intention of just buying him an ice cream (health food ice cream) but he kept bursting into tears and it was totally breaking my heart so I had NO other choice but to wheel in to the pet store and try to stifle his suffering with a new critter. At first it didn't work, he wasn't into the whole "replacement pet" idea, but I persisted and kept really talking up the pigs and parakeets, but he remained pretty blahze' about the whole idea. I managed to convince him that a little pig would wash away his sorrows and finally, after about thirty minutes we (I) picked out the cutest pig in the pen, that we (I) decided to call Jose' (Wyatt calls him Chip. Whatever). Sadly, there was no instant bond with Jose' Chip or quick relief from the pain of losing Carlos which for me is hard to understand because I'm into that whole immediate gratification thing, but as the afternoon went on and we got Jose's Chip's cage set up and he held him and played with him a little more, he started to feel a little bit better, and by dinner time he was acting more like his usual obnoxious eleven year old self again.

The pain of losing Carlos will linger on (kind of like the smell where his hutch sat) but little boys are pretty resilient and you know what I always say, a new pig makes everything better ❤

This Post Was Approved By Me

For a child raised on t.v, campaign season is a killer for me. I get so frickin sick of hearing how rotten the other guy is and not ever even hearing why the jerk off that "brought me this message" is any better. All they do is tell you whats wrong with the other a-hole and in my opinion they're all a bunch of a-holes. Not one of them ever does what they say they're going to do because they CAN'T. But for some reason we all keep holding out this ridiculous hope that one day one of them will.

Here's what iThink.

Steve Jobs should run for president and we should clear out the entire House and Senate and start over. Reboot so to speak. And if you prefer a PC you could vote for Bill Gates. Now that would be a campaign season, iMagine the adds... And then if whoever we elected wanted to run for a second term we could just call it campaign 2.0 and download the upgrades. I think I'm really on to something here.

Ok, I have sad news.

Carlos died yesterday. Wyatt went out to feed his rabbits and then crawled in Carlos' hutch to play with him and Carlos was dead and Wyatt nearly lost his mind. He hadn't been dead very long though because he wasn't a board bunny yet thank gawd because Wyatt would have really lost it if he was flat and stiff. I'm hoping that Wyatt pulls out of his emotional spiral soon because we're between insurance coverage right now and I can't afford to pay for therapy out-of-pocket, but I'm telling you, this really has him shaken. He's home from school today because he'll be doing fine and then all of a sudden he starts crying and if subconsciously there's something deeper to this I totally blame his Jackass Dad and Wendy partly too, because if his Dad paid child support Wyatt could wear name brand shoes and if Wendy wasn't with her douchebag boyfriend, well, I'm sure her db boyfriend has something to do with Wyatt's emotional instability and given time I'll think of a reason. So today I'm faced with the dilemma of rather or not I should get Wyatt another rabbit. With all of the other livestock we have around here I don't know if he really needs a replacement rabbit and I'm wondering if the emptiness he's feeling inside could maybe be filled with fro-yo instead (remember we have that new place in town.) Soft serve always makes me feel better. I don't know, what do you think? A new rabbit? Maybe a ferret! No hamsters. I had hamsters when I was a kid and one ate the other ones head off and if anything in my life has left a permanent scar it's that. Maybe a guinea pig. I love pigs. I know, I know this isn't about me, whatever.

Ok, he's crying again, I have to go.

RIP Carlos

Hoppy Trails.

Branded

Do you call it a grocery store or a supermarket?

A basket or a buggy?

I don't really care what you call it, but in case you're wondering I call it the grocery store and I put my stuff in a cart. The reason I'm asking is because this morning from the moment I got out of bed I was blinded by the branding of our grocery store and it kind of grossed me out. My coffee, coffee filters, coffee creamer, bread, lunch snacks, cheese, sandwich bags, etc... So then I started looking around and that stupid trashy Winco "Hytop" label was everywhere and it made me wonder if that stupid logo was kind of like that stupid stores "tramp stamp."

Because if it is, which it obviously is, we are paying them to do their advertising! They have branded me and my entire house and I (6) paid them to do it and that pisses me off because all it does is tell everyone who comes into our home that I'm to cheap and trashy to shop at a better store.

Right off the bat people are going to know that If I invite them over for a pasta dinner they're going to get this...

And not this...



If I offer them a baked good they'll get this...



And not this



So I've decided the only option I have is to remove all the packaging from everything as soon as I get home from the store. Strip the paper labels from the cans take the "creme rolls" out of their little plastic bags, get one of those fancy paper sacks from the high dollar coffee aisle and fill it with my Hytop coffee and start stacking all the toilet paper on top of the tank.

But I need to figure out how to get all my produce out of the bags so it will look like this...



Instead of this



But of course the even bigger question is how to go from this...

To this

Well maybe not that, I don't want to be the star of a Tampax commercial, but you get my drift.

The Tire Kicker

You are NOT going to believe this!

Yesterday I checked my email and there was money there from soap sales!!! I know, can you even believe it! I thought a few of you cheapskates must have forked over the dough for some suds or dish rags but then I discovered it was an Etsy "Sneak Attack" and it wasn't even any of my friends that bought stuff to make me feel good, but REAL PEOPLE! No kidding! People that didn't feel obligated actually bought stuff I made : D

Wendy came out yesterday and that was fun. Since she doesn't read the blog I can tell you how excited I am that she weighs 175 pounds. I am going to do everything in my power to push her over 200 and then maybe her douchebag boyfriend won't like her anymore and dump her and then I'll sign her up with Jenny Craig for Christmas and she'll live happily ever after. I know that sounds mean, but get over it. Drastic times call for drastic measures. I was just relieved that I had a fresh bag of double dipped chocolate peanuts, a brand new bag of bagels and some spreadable cream cheese on hand.

Speaking of douchebags, we had one out here kicking tires on the goat wagon (my Grampy's suburban)  last night. It's been sitting in the barn for almost two years and since I have a bad feeling the barn is going to fall down around it, I figured I better get it listed and sold. This one guy responded to the listing right away and after multiple email and phone communications 6 told him he could come out after work last night since he was being so persistent about seeing it asap. So this DB rolls in just as the sun is going down which is usually the time of day you'll find me sitting at a table somewhere eating, but since this jerk just haaaaad to see the goat wagon laaaaaast night, I selflessly put my needs aside (not like I had to be there, but I'm nosey like that and want to be in the loop.) Keep in mind this jackass had been warned repeatedly that the vehicle was used as a farm truck, hauling the occasional sheep, goat and what have you, but he obviously had a very different vision stuck in his giant inflated head, because even after we swept out the sheep poop, Big Mac wrappers and mice nests he was still visibly disappointed in what he saw. Now remember, it's past my eating time so my tolerance is dropping as this jerk in his L.L Bean sandals and khaki shorts keeps stumbling around the barn in the dark making snarky comments and my need to either eat something or hit something was beginning to rise. Let me also point out to you that we have not missvalued this automobile. We do not believe it has travelled streets of gold, nor do we think the worn carpet is spun from silk. We priced it modestly at 1500.00. The body is straight, it starts, and you can drive it home, so in my mind, fairs fair and this M'er F'er could just step off. After about thirty minutes he throws up the big heavy sigh and roll of the eyes and asks how much we'll take. Before 6 even had a chance to compose a thought I blurted out fiftennhundreddollars. Mr. Thinkshessocool looked at me, rose his eyebrow, curled his upper lip and then looked back at 6 assuming 6 was some sort of idiot willing to disregard the words of a wife and started to ask again and before he could get his words out again I said fifteenhundreddollars. Jackass. Don't mess with me at mealtime, especially when it comes to my Grampy's goat wagon. I don't think he'll be back.

Afterwards 6 took Wyatt and I to the new help yourself soft serve yogurt place for dinner so the evening ended up not being a total loss because you know what I always say, "ice cream for dinner makes everything better." And don't judge, there was fruit and other healthy stuff to put on top and it wasn't even really ice cream, it was yogurt and everybody knows yogurt is health food.

School Conference

When we left off I was heading out to Wyatt's first 6th grade conference. I had been prepped all the previous week, so there were no great expectations swirling about my brain. No visions of math angels beaming their glory down upon us or singing their grammatical praises in beautiful harmony whilst I sat in short chairs with my knees stuck to the underside of  booger encrusted tables. No, that was not to be the case at this conference, and as a matter of fact, I've come to believe that those conferences are reserved for the families of children who eat at least five servings of fruits and vegetables a day and change their underpants, because God knows I've never been to one.

So when I walked in the classroom I was prepared for how things were going to go. I knew what he was going to say and I knew what I was going to say. I would promise we would do things like read and study blah, blah, blah, we'd shake hands and out the door I'd go. Been there, done this. I've had husbands longer than he's had his teaching certificate so I knew the drill better than he did. I thought.

Before I start the story lets all join hands and pray that Mr Ferguson never discovers my blog.

Shall we?

Ok.

I walked into the class and there he sat. Peter Griffin. I'm not even kidding.

I frickin died. I remembered from the getting to know you night that he was kind of goofy looking, but that day the resemblance to Peter was uncanny. I wanted to laugh SO bad that my eye started twitching. Like really twitching alot and I started laughing really loud at things he said that weren't even that funny because at least it was an outlet for my hysteria. I kept thinking to myself that this guy HAD to know he was a dead ringer for Peter. When he gets up and looks in the mirror every morning he must see Peter looking back at him. Did he do Peter impressions at parties? Oh my gawd, what if he had a girlfriend named Lois. Or a dog named Brian! It was all too much. The guy must have thought that I was a goose short of a gaggle because I sat there twitching and laughing like someone in need of a window to lick. It was torture.

But once I started biting my tongue really hard and stepping on my own toe I was able to concentrate a little more and this is what he said... Wyatt was, "the most distracting, disruptive, off topic, charismatic, charming, entertaining kid he'd ever met." He said Wyatt had a way of leading the entire class including himself (Mr Griffin) off topic that was truly epic. Never before had he taught a student that worked so effortlessly at not working. I told him (Mr Griffin) that during Wendy's 4th grade conference her teacher asked me if I understood how some children were very easily distracted and when I said yes she informed me that Wendy was the one who distracted those children so whatever it is Wyatt has his sister has it too and I didn't know where either one of them got it. He just sat there and stared at me. Then he went on to tell me that Wyatt was doing very poorly in his academic classes but was getting an A+ in band and citizenship. I suggested that maybe Wyatt just drop out now and strike up a one man band and tour the countryside and it was that moment when I realized that although Mr. Griffin was funny looking, he wasn't necessarily a funny man, because he didn't even laugh when I said that. So I told him I was just joking about the one man band thing and we would be making sure Wyatt buckles down and starts taking things more seriously. Again he just stared at me.

Anyways, Wyatt has time to bring up his grades, so I don't need to buy him a drum set that fits on his back just yet, and if I learned anything at all from this conference it's this... Next time 6 goes instead of me!