On the Throne Again
I'm on the throne again
I can't believe I'm on the throne again
It happens every time that I eat Mexican
I can't believe I'm on the throne again.
I'm in pain, my friend
The chiles are burning me up from the outside in
This stuff is tearing up my intestines
Oops ... I've gotta go get on the throne again.
I'm on the throne again
I wish I didn't love eating Mexican
Next time I crave a bean burrito or a chimichanga..
I'm sure I'll be back on the throne again.
Friday, February 17, 2006
Thursday, February 16, 2006
Happy Birthday
Today was my grandfather's birthday. He died 20 years ago, come this April 2nd. I was almost 5 months from my 16th birthday.
I think about my Granddaddy a lot. Maybe not as much as I used to, maybe not as much as I should, but a lot.
I miss him when we all get together and someone makes homemade ice cream. I miss him when his great-grandkids are running around like a pack of wild monkeys. I miss him when my dad needs someone to yank a knot in his tail (such a sweet Southern way of saying he needs an attitude adjustment). I miss him when I watch Perry Mason on TV - not old, gray, chunky Perry, but young, sauve, debonair Perry. I miss him on holidays and Grandmama's birthday.
So today I've been thinking about Granddaddy. He would have enjoyed watching me and my brother grow up, get married and have kids. He would have enjoyed walking my aunt down the aisle at her wedding to Mr. Perfect (he really is!). He would have enjoyed a lot.
We're missing out. Happy birthday, Granddaddy. I miss you.
Today was my grandfather's birthday. He died 20 years ago, come this April 2nd. I was almost 5 months from my 16th birthday.
I think about my Granddaddy a lot. Maybe not as much as I used to, maybe not as much as I should, but a lot.
I miss him when we all get together and someone makes homemade ice cream. I miss him when his great-grandkids are running around like a pack of wild monkeys. I miss him when my dad needs someone to yank a knot in his tail (such a sweet Southern way of saying he needs an attitude adjustment). I miss him when I watch Perry Mason on TV - not old, gray, chunky Perry, but young, sauve, debonair Perry. I miss him on holidays and Grandmama's birthday.
So today I've been thinking about Granddaddy. He would have enjoyed watching me and my brother grow up, get married and have kids. He would have enjoyed walking my aunt down the aisle at her wedding to Mr. Perfect (he really is!). He would have enjoyed a lot.
We're missing out. Happy birthday, Granddaddy. I miss you.
My Life As...Iguana Eye Boogers
Lately, Spanky has been reading the Wally McDoogle series "My Life As..." by Bill Myers. It's a great Christian series for little boys (and their moms, apparently). I've been reading along so I can monitor his progress when he does these major oral book report/presentations that count for 97% of his reading grade.
The stories are about a kid named Wally (duh). He's a gigantic dork, who has a terrible time with everything, including life in general. The stories all have a Christian theme, which Wally has to learn the hard way, of course. We've read two so far. The first was about courage. The second was about humility. Good lessons for the Spankster to learn, and even better when he doesn't really realize he's learning them while doing his homework.
I realized last night that my life is beginning to parallel the books. Not so much the activity in the books, but at least the fact that things haven't seemed to go just right for me lately, and I am feeling like...well...Iguana Eye Boogers. Or something equally gross.
It's nothing in particular. And everything in general. Just can't seem to get out of the funk. It's not a bad thing. But I'm much more fun (and cuter) when I'm happy. So what's the deal? I just don't know.
One thing we determined last week is that Spanky is being bullied at school. Yep, me and SuperHubby, sleuths that we are, figured this one out all by our selves. Halfway into the school year. Once Spanky told us about it. Amazing, aren't we?
Maybe I feel bad about not protecting him more. Maybe I feel bad for not noticing. I know I feel bad about not being able to go to the school and kick this kids fanny into niceness.
Then I have to deal with all sorts of changes going on at work. Okay, not major changes, just where I sit basically, but I'm not really enjoying it. It's not stressing me out, which is a huge accomplishment for me, but frankly, I'd prefer for things to remain the same unless I'm the one making the change. (Ask SuperHubby. He'll tell you. Nothing changes at our house unless I decide it does...and then it needs to happen RIGHT NOW!)
This week we've gotten fantastic news about FrogBoy and his speech therapy. This will make other therapies line up for him and I expect wonderful things to take place. I'm believing it. Once again, we are more than blessed.
Things have turned around at school for the Spankster. And he's been acting like a human (not a tween) for the better part of a week (this morning not included).
Life is good. So why do I feel like snot?
Lately, Spanky has been reading the Wally McDoogle series "My Life As..." by Bill Myers. It's a great Christian series for little boys (and their moms, apparently). I've been reading along so I can monitor his progress when he does these major oral book report/presentations that count for 97% of his reading grade.
The stories are about a kid named Wally (duh). He's a gigantic dork, who has a terrible time with everything, including life in general. The stories all have a Christian theme, which Wally has to learn the hard way, of course. We've read two so far. The first was about courage. The second was about humility. Good lessons for the Spankster to learn, and even better when he doesn't really realize he's learning them while doing his homework.
I realized last night that my life is beginning to parallel the books. Not so much the activity in the books, but at least the fact that things haven't seemed to go just right for me lately, and I am feeling like...well...Iguana Eye Boogers. Or something equally gross.
It's nothing in particular. And everything in general. Just can't seem to get out of the funk. It's not a bad thing. But I'm much more fun (and cuter) when I'm happy. So what's the deal? I just don't know.
One thing we determined last week is that Spanky is being bullied at school. Yep, me and SuperHubby, sleuths that we are, figured this one out all by our selves. Halfway into the school year. Once Spanky told us about it. Amazing, aren't we?
Maybe I feel bad about not protecting him more. Maybe I feel bad for not noticing. I know I feel bad about not being able to go to the school and kick this kids fanny into niceness.
Then I have to deal with all sorts of changes going on at work. Okay, not major changes, just where I sit basically, but I'm not really enjoying it. It's not stressing me out, which is a huge accomplishment for me, but frankly, I'd prefer for things to remain the same unless I'm the one making the change. (Ask SuperHubby. He'll tell you. Nothing changes at our house unless I decide it does...and then it needs to happen RIGHT NOW!)
This week we've gotten fantastic news about FrogBoy and his speech therapy. This will make other therapies line up for him and I expect wonderful things to take place. I'm believing it. Once again, we are more than blessed.
Things have turned around at school for the Spankster. And he's been acting like a human (not a tween) for the better part of a week (this morning not included).
Life is good. So why do I feel like snot?
Monday, February 06, 2006
Life with SuperHubby
SuperHubby is so adorable. We've been married 14 years this May, and in that time, he's had 5 brain surgeries, 2 nose surgeries, 3 ear surgeries, 2 oral surgeries, and had his appendix removed. He has none of his original parts from the neck up. Oh, and he has asthma pretty fierce too.
A guy like this should be careful. Maybe become Bubble Boy. But no. I have to marry a SuperStud.
He was a runner when we met; in fact, he met my brother through cross country and track and that's how I met SH. So it was no surprise when, shortly after he started losing his hearing, he decided to run a marathon to raise money for a local camp for deaf children. I was behind him 100%. And he did an awesome job.
Then shortly after one of his brain surgeries (I don't remember which one), he decided that he should run an ultra-marathon. For you non-sports types, that's 31.2 miles. Was I excited? Not so much. Did I supported him in the freezing cold rain for 5 hours? You betcha.
This man is amazing. He holds a black belt in Tae Kwon Do and is a red belt in Tang Soo Do. He's also a green belt in Hai Dung Gum Do (that's sword fighting, folks). Now, there's contact in karate, but he's careful, so I try not to panic too much. His current instructor is very good at keeping an eye on him and making sure he's breathing, which is a perk, so things go pretty well in the whole karate deal.
SuperHubby is a SuperStud. He's an assistant instructor in Tang Soo Do and teaches classes twice a week. Even though he wears a dress when he's sword fighting, he still looks hot in his other uniform, and when he breaks through boards with hand or foot techniques, it's a really cool deal when you know what he's been through to get there.
But now comes the real test. SH has been invited to compete at an international karate tournament in Korea this summer. And while I'm terribly excited for and proud of him, I'm more than a little nervous about sending him halfway around the world, where I can't keep an eye on him. It's as bad as sending Spanky to camp.
The kicker is SH has to raise the money to go to Korea. I may have an out. If he can't come up with a fantastic fundraiser or 12, he's not going to come up with the cash, and I don't have to worry. Of course, I don't want that to happen, because I want him to succeed and be happy, so we've been brainstorming ideas for the past couple of weeks.
So while I hate to ask for personal favors in my blog, it really is all about me, which you already know if you're reading it. Anyone have any great fundraising ideas? There's 3 people from the school that need to raise money for the trip, and it's quite expensive, so we need good ideas. And I'm plum out!
It's not easy being married to a SuperStud. Who knows what his next adventure will be...Skydiving? Roller derby? I don't know...
SuperHubby is so adorable. We've been married 14 years this May, and in that time, he's had 5 brain surgeries, 2 nose surgeries, 3 ear surgeries, 2 oral surgeries, and had his appendix removed. He has none of his original parts from the neck up. Oh, and he has asthma pretty fierce too.
A guy like this should be careful. Maybe become Bubble Boy. But no. I have to marry a SuperStud.
He was a runner when we met; in fact, he met my brother through cross country and track and that's how I met SH. So it was no surprise when, shortly after he started losing his hearing, he decided to run a marathon to raise money for a local camp for deaf children. I was behind him 100%. And he did an awesome job.
Then shortly after one of his brain surgeries (I don't remember which one), he decided that he should run an ultra-marathon. For you non-sports types, that's 31.2 miles. Was I excited? Not so much. Did I supported him in the freezing cold rain for 5 hours? You betcha.
This man is amazing. He holds a black belt in Tae Kwon Do and is a red belt in Tang Soo Do. He's also a green belt in Hai Dung Gum Do (that's sword fighting, folks). Now, there's contact in karate, but he's careful, so I try not to panic too much. His current instructor is very good at keeping an eye on him and making sure he's breathing, which is a perk, so things go pretty well in the whole karate deal.
SuperHubby is a SuperStud. He's an assistant instructor in Tang Soo Do and teaches classes twice a week. Even though he wears a dress when he's sword fighting, he still looks hot in his other uniform, and when he breaks through boards with hand or foot techniques, it's a really cool deal when you know what he's been through to get there.
But now comes the real test. SH has been invited to compete at an international karate tournament in Korea this summer. And while I'm terribly excited for and proud of him, I'm more than a little nervous about sending him halfway around the world, where I can't keep an eye on him. It's as bad as sending Spanky to camp.
The kicker is SH has to raise the money to go to Korea. I may have an out. If he can't come up with a fantastic fundraiser or 12, he's not going to come up with the cash, and I don't have to worry. Of course, I don't want that to happen, because I want him to succeed and be happy, so we've been brainstorming ideas for the past couple of weeks.
So while I hate to ask for personal favors in my blog, it really is all about me, which you already know if you're reading it. Anyone have any great fundraising ideas? There's 3 people from the school that need to raise money for the trip, and it's quite expensive, so we need good ideas. And I'm plum out!
It's not easy being married to a SuperStud. Who knows what his next adventure will be...Skydiving? Roller derby? I don't know...
That's Not a Compliment
My very first boyfriend was 17. I was 14 at the time. My parents were not the sharpest crayons in the box.
One evening, as we were listening to each other breathe on the phone, which is really all you do when you're 14 and you have a boyfriend, Dingleberry pops out with a lovely little word to describe me: Supercilious. Just popped right out with it.
Being a sharp cookie, and having no idea what he was talking about, I grabbed my trusty Webster's and looked it up. Come to find out, "supercilious" means "arrogant, haughty, snooty." How sweet.
I did what any self-respecting female would do. I called him on it. And I was TICKED. Then, being a not-so-smart 17-year-old boy, Dingleberry said, "Oops, I thought it meant hairy." Oh, I feel much better now.
I'm not saying I'm not an overly hairy person. Maybe I am. Okay, I am. However, this is not the thing to say to someone you're supposed to like - a lot. Apparently I'm a very hairy snob. Anyway, we had a huge fight. I'd like to say I ended it right then and there, but we dated (read: telephoned and wrote a lot of notes) for a couple of years. Ugh.
What are some other things people say, disguised as niceties, that really aren't?
"For a fat girl, you don't sweat much." - I actually had a boss say that to me once. Of course, I was about 100 pounds soaking wet, but give me a break. That's never funny.
"Wow, you're quite the Amazon woman." - How pleasant. Again, been on the receiving end of this one. Just because you're taller than someone, and just because he's a jerk, doesn't mean he can spout off like that.
"You are just like your mother/father." - My favorite aunt says this to me sometimes. And it's not in a nice way. She's lucky I like her.
What's the old saying, "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all"? Here's some suggestions when you want to say something nice to me:
"Awesome hair." (I know)
"Cute purse."
"Have you lost weight?"
"Man, I should've married you." (only works if you're a guy - otherwise I'm still offended)
"Has anyone told you today how fabulous you are?" (the answer is probably yes, but try)
But be sincere. No one likes a suck-up.
My very first boyfriend was 17. I was 14 at the time. My parents were not the sharpest crayons in the box.
One evening, as we were listening to each other breathe on the phone, which is really all you do when you're 14 and you have a boyfriend, Dingleberry pops out with a lovely little word to describe me: Supercilious. Just popped right out with it.
Being a sharp cookie, and having no idea what he was talking about, I grabbed my trusty Webster's and looked it up. Come to find out, "supercilious" means "arrogant, haughty, snooty." How sweet.
I did what any self-respecting female would do. I called him on it. And I was TICKED. Then, being a not-so-smart 17-year-old boy, Dingleberry said, "Oops, I thought it meant hairy." Oh, I feel much better now.
I'm not saying I'm not an overly hairy person. Maybe I am. Okay, I am. However, this is not the thing to say to someone you're supposed to like - a lot. Apparently I'm a very hairy snob. Anyway, we had a huge fight. I'd like to say I ended it right then and there, but we dated (read: telephoned and wrote a lot of notes) for a couple of years. Ugh.
What are some other things people say, disguised as niceties, that really aren't?
"For a fat girl, you don't sweat much." - I actually had a boss say that to me once. Of course, I was about 100 pounds soaking wet, but give me a break. That's never funny.
"Wow, you're quite the Amazon woman." - How pleasant. Again, been on the receiving end of this one. Just because you're taller than someone, and just because he's a jerk, doesn't mean he can spout off like that.
"You are just like your mother/father." - My favorite aunt says this to me sometimes. And it's not in a nice way. She's lucky I like her.
What's the old saying, "If you can't say something nice, don't say anything at all"? Here's some suggestions when you want to say something nice to me:
"Awesome hair." (I know)
"Cute purse."
"Have you lost weight?"
"Man, I should've married you." (only works if you're a guy - otherwise I'm still offended)
"Has anyone told you today how fabulous you are?" (the answer is probably yes, but try)
But be sincere. No one likes a suck-up.
Things I Don't Understand
I've been doing a lot of thinking lately. Not much else going on. And I've realized there are quite a few things in this world that I don't understand. For example:
I've been doing a lot of thinking lately. Not much else going on. And I've realized there are quite a few things in this world that I don't understand. For example:
- Why do public schools feel compelled to take at least 4 days off each and every month? Why can't they shorten the big holidays and make the short people go year-round?
- Why is Hollywood so infatuated with remaking old movies and TV shows? Do they not have a creative bone in their collective bodies? And why, when they call a do-over, do they generally louse it up?
- Why are Krackel bars only offered in the Hershey's miniature variety bag and not as a full-size candy bar?
- Why is it, now that I've started losing weight and looking really hot, that my hair has decided to totally putz out? (this is not really a question, I just wanted everyone to know I've been losing weight)
- Why are all the NFL teams located in cities except for the Panthers, which are based in "Carolina"? That's not even a state. They make us share. The Virginias don't ever have to share. The only people that get ripped off worse on the New England Patriots...They have a whole region that has only one team to their name. (I don't know much about football, but I can watch a game and understand what's happening, which is one small reason SuperHubby married me.)
- Why is it that I can remember every single phone number I've ever dialed but I can't remember my children's social security numbers?
- Why didn't the fashions of the 80s stay in style? (actually - I have pictures - I know the answer to this one)
Deep thoughts for such a fabulous chick.
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