NothingSacred

Moms Want Candy... Not on My Watch.

 

First off, let me just say that I am no Halloween Grinch. TOM goes all out every year spooking out our house. So much so that I hear kids debate whether they have the cajones to ring our doorbell. We put on spooky sounds, a Leatherface stand up, spiderweb the shit out of everything, do special lighting effects on pop-up scares... the whole nine. Ok? We are into it. TOM gets all Sparky Griswold on us after the Ides of October. That said...

I need to take a moment to address what I see as a growing problem in my area. Yes, it is petty. I understand that (which TOM likes to remind me of every year when I bitch the same thing as the last... whatever honey... it's the principle, goddammit!). It still does not salve the growing, festering anger I feel over it.

Ok, now bear with me. Each year I find that more and more of a certain type of mom whilst accompanying her youngsters door to door for that yearly ritual of scoring sugar from strangers on All Hallow's Eve are feeling the need to partake in the fun. And what I mean by that is that I continue to get ladies, totally UNcostumed (obviously there as chaperones) who after I fill up their kids' bags blithely open up a grocery sack at me and expect a treat of their own! I shit you not. When the hell did this start?!?

And I hate to generalize... but this phenomenon seems to be confined to a segment of our population that... er... uh... (what's the polite way to put this?)... wasn't born in America. And I live in the Rockies states, so you can put two and two together to get the basic demographic about which I write.

They usually roll up in a van, stuffed full of kids and moms. Which by itself wouldn't mean much. My best friend/sister and our best friend/moms would drive around to trick or treat... mostly because our moms couldn't be bothered to walk and preferred to slowly drive behind us in their 80's Lincoln, smoking cigarettes. But see there?? Our moms didn't approach the door with us. And if they HAD, they sure as shit wouldn't have thrust a grocery sack at the homeowner kind enough NOT to poison their kids with apples. (And hey, thanks all you 80's Longmonters for just skipping a bullshit treat like apples altogether and only going for the good stuff. Except you, Mrs. Wright. You can shove those raisins right up your ass!)

But NOW... not only do we get moms at the door demanding sugary treats, they don't even bother to get dressed up!! Without an ounce embarrassment they sidle up in sweatpants and windbreakers and think I'm going to give them candy. Maybe, just maybe if they had the decency to throw together even a half-ass costume I'd feel differently about the gall these chicas have.

Shit, I'm home alone waiting on trick-or-treaters and I'M DRESSED UP (as a very fancy, not-at-all-scary cowgirl, I might add). And so far I've had three groups: two neighbors and one van-load of candy whores.

At our old house we used to get hundreds of trick-or-treaters and I saw this occurance continually increase, year after year. Now TOM and I have moved out to the edge of town in an "estate" neighborhood and we, literally, get like 8 trick or treaters a year. And sure as shit, I just got a mom hit me up for some candy. I can't believe it.

 

 

 

So here's my thought. Because there is some obvious breakdown in the communication of this cultural ritual for immigrants, I feel the only right thing to do is on the next Dia de Los Muertos (which gets a fair amount of press in my neck of the woods) I'm gonna go start knocking on THEIR doors and demanding a shot of tequila. Fuck it. It's only fair.

If this isn't practical... than perhaps I go with my good friend, M's, suggestion: I keep a load of recyclables at the door and when they open their bags at me I fill 'em up and thank them for "keeping the planet green"! 

Yay! Gotta go!! The doorbell just rang-- someone braved it through our haunted courtyard! I'm grabbing the bowl of candy... and a few recyclables just in case...

 

If Beavis & Butthead were Girls....

They'd write shit like this.

Sweet Edna just emailed me this exchange that she found on facebook. Enjoy:

 

Kelly C___: Off To Stark State Hell Yeaa Im Geeked For Sum College Haha. Doing All This For My Little Mama She Deserves The Nothing But The Best Of Life  Mommmy Loves You Aleigha Your My World.

Like · · Share · 3 hours ago near Canton · 

Krystal E____:          whats your major ?
2 hours ago · Like

Kelly C_______:        ultra sound tech accosiates
about an hour ago · Like

 

And my head just fucking exploded...

Comparing Family Plans

Dear, sweet Edna.... She brings so much joy (and snot-spurting snorts of laughter) to my life.

As I've written before, Edna and her dear husband, Darth Vega (from now on referred to as DV) have four gorgeous little ones. A couple of them may even have been planned.

For years Edna has struggled with differing birth control methods as she's really sensitive to any sort of hormonal interference and unusually suspect of Big Pharma malfeasance.  So they've tried a variety of methods, usually falling back to their Catholic fave, the rhythym method. (Enter into evidence, Your Honor, their family as an example of how reliable that is.)

*Let this blog in no way insinuate that any of the mini Ednas blessing our beautiful world are not, each and every one, entirely welcome and joyous.

So, ths last time Edna was pregged up the topic of The Big Snip came up with DV. Now TOM has done his fatherly duty and had this procedure and I'm happy to say we've never been happier! TOM has told DV about this miraculous endeavor, but DV has been a little, well, gun-shy to embrace this solution.

So last winter when Edna was first blooming with girl 4, DV said he thought he was ready to go for it. She relayed the good news and I encouraged her to have him go get it RIGHT THEN, while he thought it was a good idea. DV can be a bit... mercurial. I told her it was perfect timing. She was already pregged and by  the time she was unpregged he'd be 6 months in on shooting blanks. Well... they dawdled. And then they had the ultrasound. Once DV heard it was another girl suddenly the Snip didn't sound so attractive. I'd warned her to strike while the iron was hot. 

So I haven't heard anything about it in awhile, but then, yesterday, I got these texts. (Which are a real labor of love for Edna as she still uses a flip phone! (*snicker*) 

Ok, so here is what DV is requesting. He wants Edna to drop her phone plan, which she clings to fiercely as she's always had the phone plans in her name. It's her weird little independence symbol. But she doesn't want to give it up. DV, on the other hand, just got on a family member's plan so he could upgrade to a new iphone and pay a ton less. So for Edna to do the same (and enter the 20-teens in phone tech) she would have to get on DV's family member's plan. Which she's not crazy about doing. But you know how that is... you like to be in control of your own bills, you know?

Well, DV evidently views this as some way that would make it harder for Edna to ever leave him if she ever wanted to do that.  Something as ironclad as getting out of a phone contract with AT&T. Forget the other things that may keep her around when things get rocky... 4 kids... and a legal contract... and a promise before GOD! Those things are CAKE to get out of compared to shaking lose of those bastards at the phone company! 

So, DV won't get clipped until Edna submits to the ultimate act of commitment: joining him on his phone's family plan. Thus... for Edna to get the family plan SHE needs (no more babies) she must accept another sort of family plan.

You see now how Edna keeps me laughing til my cheeks hurt. 

Inner Conflict and Ripped-Off Snow Days

We got a little snow last night.... it was 80 degrees two days ago.

 

I was actually sort of bummed the kids didn't get a snow day out of this. I have no idea why the school district decided to keep school going. I have over 10 inches on the ground and it is still snowing.

I had visions of snowball fights and sledding and soup and hot chocolate and grilled cheese sandwiches and no homework and afternoon naps. And everyone getting along lovingly all the day long. Yeah, I was envisioning someone else's family.

But still, would've liked it. Especially since TOM & I made a bad assumption that we would get a snow day and thus get to sleep in, so we made celebration shots at the basement bar last night, got each other drunk and grappled over who was taking more advantage of who. Or is that whom? I can never keep those straight. Anyway, I digress.

So, loaded, we faced a night of muliple power outtages, which in our "smart" home means everything security-related begins beeping and squawking whenever the power goes out to alert us that the power is out and they are not working. Not helpful at 2 am. Or 3 am. Or 5:15.

Additionally, I've been really trying my best lately to be a super-mom (which seems to come at the expense of being an okay-artist, but more on that later)... so I had actually set up an overnight slow cooker breakfast to treat my kids with this morning. Crock pots run on electricity. D'OH! SuperMom foiled again!

Wondering if I just cook it all day I can get away with calling it breakfast-dinner...

I recently returned from a quick trip to Texas to visit a couple of my favorite girls. And getting away really gave me time to think. To take stock in what I'm doing, where I'm heading, what I want. And, blessedly, time to miss my family a little bit. I surprised myself by realizing that while I'm feeling particularly artistically fertile in the idea arena, I really want to focus on being a good mom right now...

Which makes me feel guilty for not wanting to more actively build a career... which makes me feel like a total fucking failure for not being able to do both things at once. At least not both things well. I can do both, but then both suck and I fail. When did I turn into a man? I turn 35 and suddenly I can only focus on one thing at a time?! WTF?!?!

But then I keep thinking that this time is so short. Trey is going to be in full-time kindergarten next year. And then I'll have more time to focus on art stuff right? [Probably not. Not after finding out how much time it takes to actually focus on my family and my wifely/motherly duties. I made pasta sauce from scratch yesterday (from glorious hand-canned tomatoes my Godmother in FL sent to me!!). I pureed in all sorts of veggies so that my kids would be fooled into eating them. It took me the better part of the day just to hide all that goodness in there. They loved it. Suckers!]

Anyway, I am so worried about not building up my brand and producing and staying out in front of any sort of encouragement and excitement I've gotten so far on my jewelry that I keep pushing myself to do more and agree to more and try to make it bigger and bigger and not lose any momentum. I guess out of fear that if I don't keep moving forward and focus on art, and instead focus on mommy-ing really well for a while, I'll be lame and out-of-style by the time I get back to it. Like I've got an expiration date on any scrap of talent I may (or may not) have.

All I know is that I'm over-extended now. I need more of me. I need cloning capabilities to come on line and enter the market (at a very reasonable, recession-friendly price).

Adding to that... my recent obsession with Pinterest.com is not helping.... I can't stop pinning!

Ok, obviously I'm neither improving my home-making right now NOR banging out jewelry for an upcoming show for which I have, literally, NOTHING made. I think I'm getting ulcers. And high blood pressure.

Adding to my anxiety? Posting this unfunny, whiny crap. My apologies. I promise to post something HI-larious from Edna later. 

Learnin' the Internets

 

TOM just posted this to his facebook and it made me so deliriously giggly, I had to share it with the world (C'mon, he's only got a few hundred friends... and we all know my blog circulation is WAAAAAY bigger than that!). 

Thanks to my brother in law, my Grandma finally got email!

So I sent her the following message: "I’m really glad you have email now! I can send you pictures of the kids and drop in to say hi more often this way! Write me back so I know this is you. Love you!" 

 
She replied: "First I need your e mail address."

So... here's what I've been working on for class... the engineering involved is taxing my brain so I may have to take off to TX to see some girlfriends for a couple days. Which should put me a further behind in my mad dash to finish a collection in time for a holiday show at The Muse Gallery AND my plans to take over the world...

(PS-- I cut those stones myself. Yep. It's called lapidary work. And I despise it. When in the world am I going to hire a staff?!?!)

Simply put, I do not want this in my hair...

I'm still not sure what persuades some product marketers to be so galdarn happy to shout out what is in their special formula, but the name of this product dissuades me from not only buying, but from even handling the package it comes in. They would have as much success trying to sell me Cinnamon n' Semen Hair Mask. I don't want that in my hair!

 

Why?? Why???

There's a reason there is fine print-- it hides the ingredients that might make you think twice about getting near things like this! You don't emblazon this crap on the front and highlight it as the title of the product!

And where in the world are they getting this special ingredient from!? Is it cow placenta? Pig placenta? Good Lord, if it's human placenta, where in the world are they getting it?!? Is there a Chinese placenta factory? Are the henna conditioner plant managers sneaking down to hospitals around the country and pilfering the human waste trash cans?? (Assuming, of course, they aren't finding many in areas that serve those crazy placenta-smoothie drinking mommies...)

I am so confounded by products like these, but endlessly amused by them as well. (Big thanks to B-Rod for tipping me off, and GIANT thanks to MC for snapping the shot.)