Archive for the ‘Random Crap’ Category

For a while, I thought it was just me…

I’ve always been picky about details, and I majored in English and Psychology, so I have a lower tolerance for terrible grammar/spelling/punctuation than most. I have OCD, so other little things, like inconsistencies in the news, would bug me.

None of it was really a big deal, until I realized the other day that America is becoming stupid.

Sorry, but it’s true.

Evidentiary Support:

Television: Seriously…Bayou Billionaire?? I don’t think I really need any other examples for this category, but I’ll elaborate.

There are at least 3 reality series currently airing that feature teen parents or parents-to-be. On CMT (where’s the country music, people?), there’s some redneck show in which the preview is a semi-toothless hobo-dressed man on a rock, proclaiming “put ‘yer’ big-girl panties on, I ‘is’ gonna whoop ‘yer’ ass.” I could name a “real police” show that makes Super Troopers look realistic and solemn. American Idol manages to highlight some of our most…um, interesting…individuals regularly.

The News: The news is probably the worst…at least the idiots on TV shows are getting paid to show off their more “colorful” characteristics in the name of entertainment (although the fact that this crap is what gets ratings doesn’t exactly reflect well on the rest of us). The people featured in the news are sacrificing their dogs to deities, biting bystanders after rolling their car into a field for no apparent reason, and chewing on homeless people.

What amazes me is the number of people claiming psychosis was caused by “legal drugs” like “bath salts.”  What scares me is that these products are still on shelves.

Our Schools: I’m sure no teacher ever went to college with a dream of spending their lives training kids to take standardized tests. They went to school to educate children. Sadly, most school-kids now get about 10% fitness, 80% test practice, and maybe 10% of actually learning applicable skills.

I’ve met many, many recent high school graduates who cannot grasp the concepts of basic grammar. I had the pleasure and pain of judging some scholarship entry essays recently and almost cried. I found one out of about 30 that wasn’t grossly incoherent…and it would have still required extensive editing to get more than a C in college.

People, these were seniors at the top of their class, applying for academic scholarships!! Most of them were apparently never taught the differences between there, their, and they’re…and forget about your and you’re.

Social Media: I have no problem with people using “shortcuts” on a tweet or status update. Even I text things like “where r u” and “got 2 go, brb.” Seeing this doesn’t make me worry about the world, it makes me think the person was in a hurry.

This worries me: “I wuz guna goin to tha store fa some stuf an went over their ta you’re hows nsted.”

Probable Cause:

Equality: I am all for equal rights and such, but they’ve taken things too far when they begin to refuse proper education to intelligent kids so that the others don’t take a blow to the ego.

I get it…”No Child Left Behind” is a sweet concept, but it’s not practical to stop teaching and challenging kids so that the most challenged doesn’t feel left out! When I was in school, you did your homework, you learned…or you freaking got left behind! Now apparently, everyone is taught at the level of the lowest-scoring children in class…so that the lowest-scoring child doesn’t feel bad.

In Texas, there is a standardized test that every student MUST PASS to move on to the next grade level. News I read said that 80% of those who FAILED that test were promoted to the next grade anyway.

Problem is, all the hand-holding and coddling means that these kids graduate and go out into the real world expecting more of the same. They cannot function.

What’s the result of the end of actual education? Plenty of Americans who can’t write an essay to save their lives.

The Demise of Natural Selection: Animals (which we are) are supposed to have a built-in way to make sure the species survives. Simply put, the dumb ones are supposed to die.

In the animal world, the slowest, dumbest, and impaired ones are usually the first to go…this ensures that the ones left to breed are smarter, faster, and all-around better. Therefore, their babies are better. So the cycle goes, and the species doesn’t dwindle.

People were the same way for centuries.

Fast-forward to today…where infant chairs get recalled because an idiot sat their three-month-old in the chair, the chair on the kitchen counter, and went to check the mail.

You cannot get medicine without a child-proof lid, and people remodel their entire houses when they have a baby, so they don’t have to remember to close the bathroom door or teach their kids not to drink bleach.

Instead of teaching them to survive, we wrap our kids in bubble wrap and hope for the best. They don’t know NOT to stick a fork in a toaster…the toaster is locked up tight in an 8ft tall cabinet and our kids don’t get to learn to make toast until they graduate. That’s when you get the grown man in the ER because he stuck a fork in a toaster.

A woman in Dallas sat on a hot bench and burned her butt badly enough to require skin grafts. Seriously? Wouldn’t you think STANDING UP might cross your mind when your ass starts feeling warmer than is comfortable???

I am just saying that we’ve put an end to natural selection in humans, and the slowest in our herd are surviving, breeding, and offering up more and more Americans too dumb to stand up when their rear starts burning…


Disclaimer: While I disagree with the gone-way-overboard safety standards today that make it impossible to teach kids common sense, I must let you know (before you call CPS) that I DO follow common-sense safety precautions with my kids.

I strap them into the car per DPS standards.

I don’t let them jump off the roof with an umbrella. I keep medicines put away…but I also teach them to stay out of the medicine, and I tell them the reasons the leap off the roof isn’t a good idea.

I try to teach them common sense, since it seems to be a dying art.


Hey Football Fans…Keep it Classy!

Now that football season is finally under way, there are a few things I would like to address. While I am all for school spirit, and own an obscene number of blue shirts myself, I do wonder and worry about a handful of people every season.

You are the Crazy-Fans, the people that get banned from games for stealing the ref’s whistle or distracting the players to such a degree the coaches from both teams actually become allies in removing you from the stadium (or the field).

I am talking to those fans who take spirit to a level bordering on the white-shirt people with giant butterfly nets coming after you…

On your car.

Crazy-Fans, you can be spotted and heard from miles away, and can silence an entire stadium full of people by driving up…this is partially because of your insistence on parking on the track surrounding the field, and your tendency to block the ambulance that is supposed to be there.

It is also in part because your car looks like the school mascot blew up on it.

You have flags (big ones, flying from every protruding surface), color-coordinated cans tied to the rear bumper, and enough shoe polish on the windows to decorate a mall. There are phrases written in shoe polish that your star player wants to kill you for.

I am not saying to skip the window-writing, it is a time-honored tradition found on thousands of Fan-Cars everywhere. I am just saying to have a little decorum.

“#37 So Proud of You,” and “Go Big Blue,” and other various peppy cheerleader phrases are ok.

“#26 Johnny-Bunny, Mommy Loves You Forever” and “I changed the Quarterback’s Diapers,” are NOT ok, and your son will pretend he doesn’t know you.  You might not want to yell these phrases out over the crowd, either.

On your person.

I remember a day in Jr. High (ugh) where everyone wore Big Red cans in their hair…it might have been a Funky Friday theme, and it might have been for a random mid-season game day. But seriously, we had our ponytails sticking out of soda cans on top of our heads! Not a proud moment.

Instead of wearing accessories that make strangers chase you around with video cameras, hoping for a good “People of Wal-Mart” shot, try some team-colored hair ribbons, or even a streak (just a streak) of temporary hair color.

Face-paint is fun for games, or maybe a face sticker or little tattoo on your cheek…but you might avoid real tattoos. What are you going to do when your Blue Patriot moves to college where the colors are *gasp* yellow and black?

Um…I must say this: full-body paint with no clothes might give someone’s Meemaw a heart attack. Please don’t.

Speaking of clothes, go all out on color if you want to, wear the team shirt, team hat, and team jacket. Just remember that you might have to stop at a store or something on the way home, where no one knows you just left a football game…wear things that are acceptable in the general public so you don’t scare a store clerk.

About your Noise.

I went to a football game once and sat on the tailgate of a boyfriend’s pickup right next to a whole group of Crazy-Fans. It took a minute to recognize what was on the flat-bed trailer they backed into the next space…

There was no question when they fired up the SIX (linked-together and attached to an amplifier) TRAIN WHISTLES, and deafened an entire stadium of people at the same time. They didn’t get to stay and watch the end of the game.

So folks, when you are readying your noise-makers, remember that the players need their hearing, and the other fans would appreciate theirs as well. Put some rocks in a soda can, grab a cowbell with some team-colored ribbons, and leave your air-horns and bull-horns at home.

One last thing…if you bring an actual musical instrument (trumpet, saxophone, etc.), please make sure you have some experience and skill in playing said instrument.

This post first published (by me!) in the Briscoe County News.

I wrote this about a year ago, and it turned out to be my most visited and revisited post. Since school is in session again, summer break is over, I thought I’d re-blog this one for some of my new followers….with a few small additions.

If you’re a high school student, have a student, know a student…or are a teacher, have a teacher, or know a teacher…pass this along to them. It’s something that I wish I could have understood when I was stressing about prom, about boys, and about that teacher who just didn’t understand at all…



Hang in there, the real world is actually not as cruel (no matter what they say)…


Dear Homecoming Queen,

I understand that you are busy with your cheerleading, sports, parties, and picking out a prom dress that matches your boyfriend’s earlobes or whatever it is that you’re currently obsessed with. I also understand that that prom dress, the boyfriend, and the tiara you won for homecoming are the CENTER of the universe. I even understand that to speak to the quiet girl in the hall with the locker next to yours would be a terrible inconvenience and possibly tarnish your very existence.

However, it doesn’t make you any prettier or more popular to laugh at her. It doesn’t buy you another date with the quarterback to leave her a fake note from a cute boy so that you and your friends can crush her spirits when you announce the prank to the cafeteria. It doesn’t make you somehow better to pat her on the head and tell her you just hate that she’s not you.

Have you ever thought that maybe being her friend wouldn’t take up any time, ruin your precious image, or cost a thing…but might just make you more worthy of that tiara? That maybe you could be someone to look up to for more than the fact that you carried an armful of roses across a football field?

Being a “Mean Girl” isn’t fun, or funny, or cool.


Dear Football Star,

I know right now the game is the biggest thing in your world and that being a star makes you a king in your universe. You’re also right that the geeky kid you just stole the clothes from and left naked in the locker room is about as macho as your girlfriend.

Did you know that making him cry doesn’t make you a man? It doesn’t even make you cool except in the eyes of your so-called friends (who would laugh the same way to see someone do the same to you).

Wouldn’t it be better to stand up for the guy and be a hero? It wouldn’t make you less of a star, but would get you a lot closer to the thing that people who are “all grown up” refer to as a real man.


Dear Teacher Who Forgot to Grow Up,

It may be fun to giggle and gossip with the popular kids as though you were one of them. It may also get you nominated for the favorite teacher awards at the end of the year.

But to the shy girl who just wants you to notice that she is terrified of the “group projects,” and the quiet boy who needs help understanding your jumbled notes on the board (jotted randomly in between announcements of parties and senior suppers)…it just makes you look sad.

You might not care what those sad little things think of you, but as a teacher shouldn’t you at least pretend to?


Dear Football Coach,

There is life beyond Friday night. That is all.


Dear Teacher that Gives a Damn,

You are a rare breed. You are the one who notices that the shy kid is considering dropping out of school because the final project is a group effort where the kids are “allowed” to pick their partners. You’re actually aware when there is a kid in class who never gets picked, never has a partner, never gets asked to the prom…and you give a shit.

You’re the teacher that gives that kid a camera and says the yearbook would love some creative pictures. You’re the one who arranges the group projects with a structure in mind to keep it fair to everyone. You’re the one who winks at the shy kid and promises that it will get better one day.

You’re the one that deserves the roses and the tiara and the trophies.


Dear Shy Girl in the Corner,

As much as you can, observe those cruel kids with objectivity and pretend they are primates you have to study for four long years. Interact with them, and take notes…and someday teach your daughters and sons compassion.

Four years is a long time, but not so long when compared to decades of leaving these people behind you. There IS a place in the world for you, and you get to go there and stay. These people who are in their element right now only have four short years to enjoy their reign before being tossed out into a cruel world that doesn’t care who they took to Prom.


Dear Girl without a Prom Date,

It’s just a gym full of balloons, weak punch, and bad music…with the same gossipy people standing around in the same groups, talking about the same things. You deal with that every day, if you decide not to put up with it in yards of itchy chiffon, it’s not a big loss.


Dear Boy who Never gets Picked in Gym,

Don’t worry about it, you have better things ahead of you than a 3 on 3 basketball game and a coach that doesn’t care about anyone but his so-called “stars.” You may not be big, you may not ever make a touchdown, but you will do something very cool…and it will probably be more lasting than these little games.

These days aren’t the best of your life, those are coming…and you can rest assured that those athletes’ days are numbered. Even the FEW of them that make it, that go on to college and pro, will still reach the end of their career in just a few short years. Whatever you choose to do, you can do as long as you want. Those sports freaks will be old and sidelined by the time they’re thirty.


Dear Foreign Exchange Student,

I’m sorry…I’m sure we advertized a whole different ball game.

Hmmm…weekly writing challenge from WordPress?

Sure, why not?

As I write this, I will thoughtfully provide you with snippets of what I am hearing, in the interest of the theme.

♫♪ …laaaalalalala…c’mon baby, don’t fear the reaper…baby, take my hand… ♪♫

What does sound mean to my blogging capabilities (expertise, unparalleled awesomeness)? How does sound/noise affect my writing? Are sounds important to the writing process, or do they get in the way?

Well, it’s everything. Affects all. And it totally depends on the sound.

The soundtrack of life that happens to be playing in the background while I write has a direct impact on what I write…

♪♫ …she might come home in a tablecloth. Yeah, tequila makes her clothes fall off… ♫♪


In a nutshell, music is productive, children-screeches and trash trucks are not, and Spongebob will cause all creative thinking to come to a crashing halt.

Need more explanation?

Here are a few of the most influential sounds in my personal life soundtrack:


Ahhh…manna from Heaven. I do my best work, be it house or job, with an actual music background.

♪♫ …I don’t mind spending every day, out on your corner in the pouring rain, look for a girl with a broken smile, ask her if she wants to stay a while…and she will be loved… ♫♪

There’s a little hippie in me that seems to thrive on classic rock. A rebel that thinks straighter on heavy metal. A country chick who carries a Cowboy Gun and thinks Jason Aldean is about the best thing since sliced bacon. A moody poetry-writing girl, with heavy black eyeliner, jamming Nirvana and rocking some scary lyrics. There’s also a scarily upbeat cheerleader type bopping along to LMFAO…we don’t like her very much…

♫♪ …Romeo take me somewhere we can be alone, I’ll be waiting… ♪♫


Oh the screeches, the squeals, the “Mommy, Mom, Momma, MOOOOOOM” that punctuates the most important things I write. Somehow, they KNOW when there is a deadline…the bigger the better.

The Climber’s latest favorite Mommy-Distraction-Technique is to actually crawl into the chair behind me to play with my hair. Little guy loves my long hair, and cannot tolerate buns and ponytails…Mommy’s mane must be free.

♪♫ …in your sweet love, I’ve suffered and I’ve seen the light. …you’re my angel, come and save me tonight… ♫♪

Good thing is I can type nearly as fast even with him riding my back, literally.

The Diva, on the other hand, is harder to tune out. She insists on participation, and her questions get repeated in an ever-louder (and faster) monologue until I answer her. Repeating “I’m working,” appears to work as a direct challenge, and she loves a good challenge.

So, two-year-old antics? Easier to ignore and “write through” than 6 year old questions.

The “Uh-oh.”

This is a fun one…it’s usually followed by “Mommeeeeeeee!!”  …and accompanied by a crash, a splash, or a wail of pain and terror.

The latest was a quartet of shopping bags, full of books I listed on a garage-sale site in an attempt to de-clutter. There were lots of things listed The Day The Packrat Died…

♪♫ …she says she talks to angels, they call her out by her name… ♫♪

Anyway, the bags were in the floor across the room, and slightly behind me. The Climber had been suspiciously quiet…a fact that I was studiously ignoring in an attempt for “just 5 more minutes” of productivity. That’s when The Diva strolls in wearing a cheerleading costume and lime green cowboy boots.

“Uh-oh, Mom…I think you’re gonna wanna see this.”

No. No, actually I don’t.

But I did. I stood up to survey the sea of paperbacks (237 of them, to be exact) spilling across the floor and into the hall.

At least they weren’t sticky, staining, or hazardous to physical health. And it did give me a cute photo to supplement my story.


He’s cute when he’s running for his very life…

♫♪ …down on our side of the barbed wire, money grows in rows, if it don’t you’ve gone broke… …throwing down in the dirty dirty South down here…

The phone.

How do you people know when I’m working!?!?
I don’t mind pertinent text messages, interesting text messages, even the occasional pointless bad joke. “hey, what’s up?” and “how u?” are even acceptable.

♫♪ …and I don’t want the world to see me, I just don’t think that they’d understand. When everything’s made to be broken, I just want you to know who I am… ♪♫

But what the @#$% are you thinking, interrupting me with “HEY” ???

What are you looking for here? Do you want me to start a conversation, since you apparently can’tthink of an opener? Are you fishing for my mood? Because you just killed it and the answer won’t bepositive.

Are you THAT bored? Seriously, I can think of better things to do than waste time texting people nothing better than “hey.”

♫♪ …the only one who could ever reach me, was the son of a preacher man…

I keep meaning to change my text tone…right now it’s Transformers’ transforming sounds. Metallic clicking, clanging, and screeching, is fun sometimes, but ultimately thought-shattering.

I can be on a heck of a roll, typing along, and that text tone will stop action better than the smell of coffee drifting in unexpectedly.

The husband.

Yeah…he’s not much better than the kids. He can’t be trusted when things are “too quiet,” he interrupts every 5 minutes or so (“but it’ll only take a minute”), and he makes messes.

Him and The Climber both watch Spongebob, but the bigger kid has the ability to up the volume.

Carry on my wayward son, there’ll be peace when you are done. Lay your weary head to rest…don’t you cry no more. ♫♪

…and Spongebob is just not conductive to creative writing.

What noises make up your Personal Life Soundtrack?

My son has a radar…

There is apparently a silent alarm that goes off somewhere in his little head when the following happens:

  • Mommy sits at the computer
  • Mommy has a deadline looming in the very near future
  • Mommy thinks he is asleep and runs a bath
  • Mommy kisses daddy

This alarm sounds and immediately spurs him into action…it is suddenly time to either have a walleyed hissy fit or climb something. If the alarm sounds after bedtime, it is his cue to come running out of his room like a banshee on cocaine, careening across the hardwood driving a popcorn popper machine with an Easter bucket on his head.

This is what I deal with every minute of every day…even “at work.”

…an amazing occurrence, considering that both are hidden at least 5 feet from the floor every night as a part of the bedtime ritual. The bedtime ritual that includes 4 hugs, 3 “I lub you’s”, and 2 kisses on each cheek (ours and his).

The Deadline Radar is the worst, especially considering that my “office” is in the living room. Working from home is great in theory, and to those who argue that I “am so lucky” are right in that I don’t have to pay $45 a day for childcare. However, have you ever tried to complete a college-level essay on dental procedures with a two-year-old IN the chair behind you, drawing on your neck with a Sharpie and playing Angry Birds on your ringing cell phone?

It’s no wonder I’m crazy…

Any of you work from home? What are your coping mechanisms?

Hello, Blog!! Been a while!

Yeah, yeah…I know. I am a neglectful blogger, but life has been hectic and crazy. Want some updates?

Well, when I logged back in I found that I still have quite a few visitors (thanks y’all!!!), and some new peeps who’ve found me in search engines. I just had to click over and see some of the search terms that they’ve used to find me…

And found a GREAT addition to my Odd-and-Crazy Search Terms archives:

“Shake me like a monkey”

Yep. Someone typed THIS into their search engine and it brought them to me. I’m pretty sure this one scares me more than my Bandaid-Butt fans. At least I know which post brought those guys to me.

But when did I ever write a post about shaking monkeys??? Literally or figuratively!?


So what else has been going on?

I coached a tee-ball team. By accident (although I had a blast with a great little group of guys and girls)…

See, I checked “yes” on my daughter’s sign-up form, stating that I would be willing to help out and volunteer. I figured I’d be asked to bring some snacks to a game or two, and maybe sign up as team mom for a few games or practices.

Ooooh no…they called me the next day to let me know I’d been “given” a team. At least the rules for tee-ball are pretty lax. My softball playing years didn’t exactly prepare me for explaining the fundamentals to a group of 4-5 year olds.

And I never got to sing and dance in the outfield when I played.

Another high-light of the last few weeks…my husband launching us into a whole new realm of Redneckery.

There was a Rattlesnake Rodeo his peace officers’ association decided to hold. They needed snakes of course. In lieu of buying snakes, they handed a catcher out to the officers in the area and told them happy hunting. (we do live in West Texas, but still…)

So the Guru comes home one day with a lidded (thank God) 5 gallon bucket, a 4 foot long catcher stick, and a shit-eating grin.

“Honey, look what I caught! There are four of ‘em in here!!”

 This began the scramble to find something of an appropriate size and secure enough to hold multiple live rattlesnakes until they could be taken to the event.

After some digging, he comes up with a white plastic barrel (with no lid), a metal-grate lawn table, my concrete stepping stones, and a handful of bungee cords.

I was concerned.

It grew as he dumped the snakes into the barrel, placed the tabletop on the top of the barrel, and weighted it down with the stepping stones.

Then he bungeed the whole thing to a tree in the front yard… ”So the dogs won’t tip it over.”

Great. I took that moment to come to the computer and put out an APB (via Facebook, of course) to anyone who had a cage of some sort that might be a little more secure than the Guru’s Bucket-O-Snakes.

My cousin’s girlfriend (Dude, MARRY this one!!) saved my sanity by donating a rabbit cage to the cause. I reinforced it with metal fabric and forced the Guru to take it (and the snakes) to our kennels…which thankfully are about a quarter mile from the house.

In the meantime, he did attempt to make it safer for trespassers by using a magic marker and marking it with “DANGER: LIVE RATTLEBUGS!”

Although, if someone HAD come up to burglarize the house, we’re probably the only ones around who had guard-snakes in the yard…

Has anyone else reached any interesting levels of Redneckery? I’d love to hear about it in the comments!

I just love road construction, don’t you? It’s right up there with pulling teeth…

Don’t go to Lubbock, Texas and expect to come out unscathed, traumatized, or with a much higher insurance deductible…

No kidding...

They’ve apparently turned the planning of the city layout over to a committee of the most vocal at the nearest psychiatric institute. And the road signs are now in the hands of three drunk transients who can spend all night moving road cones and other orange contraptions to random places…

I think an aerial photograph of Lubbock would currently reveal thousands of orange dots in the shape of a giant hand with the middle finger raised.

I kept expecting to see something like this...


Planview is no better. The main highway running through town has been halfway diminished to two scary little lanes for the better part of 2012…that wasn’t good enough though. Now they’ve taken out the rest of the way through town.

Unless you have a death wish, just go buy everything at your nearest convenience store, cut your own hair, and forget about anything in any of the shops on the South side of the main road there. I’m pretty sure most of them have gone out of business by now…they were all woefully abandoned when I took my last trip through Plainview for this year.

And for those brave souls around here who can’t live without Wal-Mart…email me, I know a super-secret back way to get there. 😉


The first part of the news is exciting…

The Diva has a wiggly, wobbly tooth! She is excited about this, can’t keep her hands out of her mouth…and isn’t even bothered by the fact that eating pizza is suddenly damn near impossible. Looming in the near future is the first visit from the Tooth Fairy!

Great news, right?

Yeah, for everyone but the freakin’ stand-in Tooth Fairy…because our resident TF just happens to be in another state for a week.

See, a long time ago, the Guru and I made a pact. He would be the primary tooth puller. Wiggly teeth are HIS department, not mine.

Why? Because I just flat can’t handle it.

Yes, I was trained as an EMT and worked as a sports trainer for a college football team. I’ve worked wrecks that made cops throw up behind their cars. I’ve performed CPR on the top of moving gurneys in scenes straight out of movies. Broken bone trying to escape your leg? Nope, it doesn’t even faze me.

Blood is cool, not icky.

I can skin a deer. I don’t particularly care for snakes and mice and spiders, but they don’t actually scare me. I watch Criminal Minds, Bones, and CSI in fascination.

So I consider myself a pretty tough girl, in these things…iron stomach and all that.

However, there are three things in this world that actually do completely, totally scare the Bejeezus out of me:

  1. Clowns, and dolls dressed as clowns (yes clowns, the smiling, happy, kid-loving party-going do-gooders…evil bastards).
  2. Scorpions (again, evil). I used to turn down dates if the man was a Scorpio.
  3. Wiggly teeth.

My own personal Hell would be running barefoot through a field of scorpions, chased by a kid yelling “look, it wiggles!” …with a clown cheering from the sidelines, laughing maniacally. In the background the Titanic soundtrack will be playing on loop for eternity.

But anyway…

If there is any kind soul with Tooth Fairy experience in the West Texas area who wouldn’t mind being on-call for the next few days, you have the chance here to be a real hero…


It’s been a while, and I am sorry about that. For some reason my writing mojo went out the window for a while.

I couldn’t add winning search terms, because for some reason people who “found me” decided to have a month of being damn normal.

What did happen that I could’ve/might’ve/should’ve but didn’t blog about?

I couldn’t find much creative stimulation about my search terms results: “taking a toddler to basketball game” and “dslr camera blog.” What happened to all my crazies??? Surely you didn’t ALL get locked in a padded room sans internet access at the same time!

A Facebook dad kicked ass in Creative Parenting 306, and I shared a few thoughts and a thumbs-up, but by then the subject was (I’m sure) old news.

It snowed in Texas…that was somewhat newsworthy, but once I jotted out a Facebooks status update about it I realized I’d pretty much exhausted the subject.

I revamped my photography website with some fresh info, and opened an online portfolio that shows up well on my Kindle Fire (LOVE my new toy)…much easier to show people samples in person without lugging around $200 worth of prints.

I went crazy in Vistaprint. I have postcards with a senior special and pretty new business cards and flyers…but didn’t see anyone being especially interested in reading about it.

My son has taken to calling me “Baby,” if I don’t answer to Momma on the first attempt. The Guru calls me that when I’m in his good graces, and The Climber knows I’ll answer to it. It’s funny…but this is pretty much the whole story.

See, my life got too boring to blog about. Sad.

Then, tonight, in a shining moment of internet happy…

“aaa batteries shock pen albuquerque”

YESSS! My crazies have finally spoken! Yesterday, someone stumbled upon little old me in the vast world of “the net” just by using…

I have to type it again…

“aaa batteries shock pen albuquerque”

And there, in this simple nonsensical phrase, I found my mojo.

See ya soon.



Something very different….

I just opened a new on-line photo portfolio so I can quickly share some of my photography work!

Let me know what you think!