Hunting, hormones, and a question

My son, the Prince, is far too busy for Mom these days as the heart of hunting season is upon him. Not sure how or why, but my seriously ADD/ADHD child (well they both are) has developed a love and actual talent for bow hunting. Last year he managed to bag his deer and elk, which is no small achievement if you have ever hunted. Especially if you know anyone with ADHD like my son who remaining perfectly still is near impossible This year he is over the moon that he got his antelope with a bow, which is even harder as you are literally in the open and if you move wrong or any little thing, they are long gone. To top it off it turned out to be a rather unusual horn configuration, so he is quite pleased. I was just tickled that during his last stop here in August I finally was able to unload the damn antelope head from my living room wall that I have had to stare at for 22 years now! See, when I shot the darn thing I was literally over 8 months pregnant with him. Told him since the day he was born it was his, not mine and when he got his own place he HAD to take it.

Now-take a moment to reflect on this mental picture. Skinny, blonde bimbo gains 75 pounds with the pregnancy, ALL belly, is unable to see her feet or go more than 5 minutes without having to empty the now pea size bladder. So, her husband and father-in-law insist that she MUST uphold the family tradition and go hunting on opening day of antelope season, middle of freaking no where, miles of dirt road, up and out at 4am. Blonde bimbo, not one to back down from the taunting of "couldn't hit the broad side of a barn-why are we taking her again" comments, hauls her sorry ass out of bed, endures the miles of bouncing road SMASHED in the cab of a truck with THREE males. All the while unable to breathe with the constant foot protrusions in the rib cage on my lungs, not to mention the unbearable fact that stopping to pee is completely out of the question. At last, the first shimmer of light appears in front of the now tear soaked eyes of the blonde bimbo ,who sees a VAGUE outline of 4 legged creatures in the VERY distant plateau. Dumb bimbo blonde casually says, "Uh, guys, isn't that antelope right over there?".

First mistake. Folks, you have never seen such a sudden stop from a 50mph forward momentum in your life. The only thing saving the blonde bimbo from projecting thru the windshield was the 75lb belly which was already wedged into the steering wheel and dash board. Ya, ya, ya, good god what a unsafe bunch of idiots, but folks when buck fever strikes, the male species no longer resembles human quality, trust me.

Out we pile, shhhing each other, cussing too many arms, legs, and one massive belly. Now the REAL dilemma. Who gets the first shot? Three strong men who have done this their literally entire life, gotten the goat every damn year, or the dumb blonde bimbo with the 75 pound belly who, while having had to endure this ritual every year since I could walk had NEVER been given the chance to do it myself? Hhmmm. Yeah, that one took awhile to figure out. Finally the dumb blonde bimbo says, "For God's sake. You hauled my fat ass out here in the freezing cold to do this and I saw them first. Get the hell out of my way."

Speechless girls, the men were speechless. Especially the now ex-husband who had already learned over several months that to meddle with me and my hormones was NOT something anyone with half a brain would want to try. So, out comes my trusty 30-06 gun that was my Dad's pride and joy. By now, the Father-In-Law decides if I'm armed, he better just let me shoot the antelope or it wasn't going to be pretty. So, he starts"Are you sure you can do this? Are you sure you know where to shoot? Are you sure that gun isn't going to knock you on your ass?" One look from blonde bimbo and the questions stopped cold. Instead came, "Ok sweetheart, let's just have you lean on the hood of the truck. Here we go, this will be better. Ok, now aim over here, take off the safety, take your time....." Again the look from the blonde bimbo and talking stops.

By now my mind is racing with "What the hell have I gotten myself into? What the hell do I do again? Oh yeah, duh, if a guy can do this I sure as hell can." Ease the gun onto the hood of the truck, find the antelope, half of which are now walking around eating breakfast, look down the barrel thru the scope, WOW, that's a big one right there, and WOW, it even has little black nubby deals on the head-horns. Yep, that's the one I want, right there. Sight again, cuss the 75 pound belly that is now WIDE awake from the adrenaline surge in my body pulsing him to a bloody pulp, hold your breath, cuss the child who won't let you, hold your breath, look again, yep, right in the "x" marks the spot, aim for the heart....................oh yeah blond bimbo, you gotta pull the trigger..............oh yeah, hold that puppy HARD on your shoulder or it will HURT..........................hold breath, aim, close eyes, squeeze...................................................BANG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Silence, dead, complete total silence. Three male voices, quiver, sniff, "No way. You have got to be kidding me. and a distinct "Wow." Blonde bimbo finally opens her eyes, looks, sees antelope herd now running EVERYWHERE. Shock, humiliation, disgust, anger. Looking frantically at the men, wait, they aren't moving, they aren't yelling, where was the dreaded "I told you so." ? Hmmmm. "Did I miss it?" blonde bimbo quitely says, head now bowed in shame. Father-In-Law looks at blonde bimbo, back at antelope herd, and says "Hell, no you didn't miss, you dropped the damn thing in one shot. Never seen a shot like that from a girl."

Blonde bimbo frantically searchs the horizon, looks to other men, "What, you mean I actually did it? Really? Where the hell did he go?" Ex husband looks at me, shakes his head, and says, "yes dear, you really did it. He's laying over there, walked one step and dropped like a rock. I knew I loved you for a reason!" Blonde bimbo still in shock, suddenly grasps the fact that she did it, by gosh, I DID IT!!!!!!!! Yelling begins, then, blonde bimbo does the dreaded happy dance, hopping, yelling, dancing like a child on crack! Father-in-law is horrified and yelling, "Stop it for God's sake, we are a hundred miles from town and you can't have this kid out here!!" Blonde bimbo, smiles, yells, jumps and hugs the speechless men, "come on you sissy's, let's go get him!" Blonde bimbo wedges the 75 pound belly thru the barb wire fence, walking begins, and continues forever....250 yards. At last the ex runs ahead, yelling, "wow, right thru the heart, clean thru shot" . Blonde bimbo reaches the scene, excited, nervous, pleased. I really did this? Wow. Ex hubby holds up the head, "nice set of horns babe".

Blonde bimbo inches closer, bends over the whole 3 inches her belly allows to get a closer look. OH MY GOD!!!! Blond bimbo begins crying, sobbing, snot flying crying kind of blubbering. Guys stare in silence totally freaked out by the bimbo. Ex says, "what, are you ok, oh my, what is the matter?" I can see the looks, the frantic pacing gauging the distance to the truck, town, how the heck are we going to get her out of here if she has the kid kind of looks. Blonde bimbo suddenly gets a grip on her hormonal self, wipes the snot, and looks them dead in the eyes and says,
"YOU DIDN'T TELL ME THEY HAD EYELASHES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

Yes it is true, antelope have the longest, prettiest eyelashes that a girl could only imagine in her dreams. I was fine with the kill the animal, I was fine with he is dead by your hand, I was TOTALLY fine with it ,because folks, we did this for the meat. Yeah, men horn hunt, but bottom line is come end of season, the top priority is meat-not the size of the horn on the head. WE NEEDED this meat. $100 tag for meat is much better than comparable price for beef for a limited income family like we were soon to be. So yeah, am I a hunter? Damn right. But, for crying out loud I helped my dad hunt deer every year, went along, helped finding, plugged my ears for the shooting, held the leg for gutting, haul it to the truck, the whole nine yards. Yeah, they had eyelashes, plain jane run of the mill animal lashes. Never struck me with even one second of thought.

But put me out there 8.5 months pregnant, 75 pounds of moving belly, with the gun that dropped him like a rock from a sizable distance and the ONLY thing that brought one second of remorse was those damn eyelashes. Seriously. Eyelashes for crying out loud! I won't even bore you with the rest of the story except to say if we had owned a video camera I have NO DOUBT we would have been top prize winner for America's funniest videos. No one would have come close. See, the 4th member of our party was the brother-in-law, who only months before had rolled the scraper he was running a fractured multiple levels in his cervical spine and was wearing one of those unearthly halos that encompass the entire head in metal with the large bars that project down to rest on the shoulders, back, and chest. He needless to say can't turn his head, or look down, so every movement is exaggerated, kind of like the blonde bimbo belly. Just visualize him chasing me over sagebrush bushes at a run with the full bladder of the antelope. Period. I am telling you we would have had the prize for sure.

So, at last, we get back to town, hang the darn thing and it starts again. "You seriously have to get that one mounted." No way, no dead animal with lashes on my wall, no way, no how. Blonde bimbo loses this fight girls, never had a prayer of a chance. See, none of the men that year had one even close to that size, nor were they able to shoot theirs in such a way as to preserve the original cape needed for a full mount with no holes. Yep, the sucker got mounted. So, several short weeks later, seemingly endless hours of labor (during the whole deal my doc was FREAKING OUT that his duck season trip began in mere hours), my first born child came to visit. Beautiful dark haired, long eyelash, screaming male. Love at first sight, hormones still raging, crying, blubbering, snot flying begins again. Speachless ex-husband cautiously says "what's wrong?" Blubbering blonde bimbo says, "See, now it all makes sense. It was HIS antelope, not mine. Look at those lashes!!!!!!!!!!!"

Everyday of his life I have stared at the head on the wall with a mixure of pride, remorse, longing, and love. See, my theory is this. Yeah, the dumb blonde went along with the idea, but I am convinced that the well place kick to my lungs miliseconds before I actually shot the beast with lashes is what led me to the perfect shot, at the perfect time, in the perfect spot. It was the kid's fault. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. I have never shot another thing since that day, not out of fear, lack of opportunity, or desire. I just know it was one of those once in a life time deals that can never be repeated. Why mess with perfection?

So, for 22 years I dusted the damn head, gave him his yearly bath with Woolite rug cleaner, plugged a red nose on him at Christmas, felt his big brown eyes follow my every movement thru the house thru that massive veil of lashes. Irritating as it may have been, it was still a reminder of a wonderful day of adventure with my then unknown son, and it made me smile. So, for 22 years I reminded him it was HIS antelope, not mine, and by God he was taking it when he got his own place. Years of yeah, mom, can't take it now, blah blah blah. Now it's hanging on HIS wall, eyelashes and all. So, the million dollar moment came, "So, Prince, this one you just shot? Is it as big as mine?" Silence. "No Mom, not even close, but it's a freak so I'm going to Euro mount it and hang it right by yours." That folks, is the sweetest thing a Mom can ever hope to hear come out of a grown son's mouth. Perfection, don't mess with it.

Now, the dreaded question. The head hung on my living room wall for the last 13 years, same spot. Now I have the dreaded dirt surrounded clean spot shaped like the base of the antelope mount staring at me, but at least no eyelashes. Don't even suggest a. wash the damn walls blonde bimbo, or b. paint the damn walls blonde bimbo, or even c. shoot another one and hang it in the same spot. None of them are happening in the near future. No sir, no way, no how.

So, what the hell am I going to put in the spot of my missing eyelash beast? Can't move the pics from other walls, cause ya know they will look the same damn way. Gotta think of something quick before Prince Charming hauls in a saddle, or god help me his bull riding chaps. Seriously, this could be war, because every day he looks longingly at the bare spot, shakes is balding head, and mutters, "What the hell did you give it to him for? Now what the hell am I going to brag about?"

Edited to add photo by Sue's request-Here you are, the eyelash beasts in all their glory! Now, the photo was taken likely around 1992ish, so the home holding the beast, not to mention the adorable Prince Charming have changed a lot!

Life worries never end

It seems my dear Princess can't catch a break these days. Yesterday she awoke with terrible abdominal pain, that resolved somewhat but worsened at work. She came home around 3 seeking mom's advice. Sent her off to the urgent care her new insurance uses. Ya, no help. No equipment for a pelvic exam, can't refer to get an ultra sound, blah, blah, blah. Sent her to the ER which took until midnight with eventual diagnosis of large ovarian cyst. Wouldn't refer her to a doc, instead insist she get it from her primary (whom her new insurance will not allow her to see) for a referral to gyn. Days like these make me seriously wonder how I ever thought the medical field was so much fun.



My foot is still a mess, changes areas of black/blue/green every day. Trying to wean out of the boot, but it kills me if I do much. Guess I'm not superwoman anymore and isn't going to heal as fast as I expected.



Work is so darn busy I can't see any light at the end of this tunnel. I can barely see over the paper stacks at this point to even know where to begin. Oh well, job security for now.



Luckily the weather is a tad bit cooler this week, although I seriously do not enjoy the thought of winter. See, rarely do we get the luxury of fall here. Rather one day it is 95, the next it is freezing or snowing etc. I hate the cold, I hate the snow, give me heat any day! Sad part is I am just now getting 4 bloom buds on my angel trumpet and am holding my breath that it will just cut some slack long enough to see one open. My plumaria is looking pretty hopeless. I have leaves on the twigs now, but am not seeing any signs of blooms yet. The tomatoes are barely starting to turn, although we have had some seriously good cherry ones, and a small variety of yellow that are sweet as sugar. I managed to hoard enough for a large batch of salsa for the Prince Charming, but no where near where I was last year with several quarts canned and ready.



I have managed to get a few jars of apple butter, plum jam, peach jam, and rhubarb canned. I really need to do more, but no time or ambition at this point to do it. Pretty sad. Haven't been able to bring myself to even put away the piles of wedding stuff that are still smack in the middle of my living room and office. It just makes me too sad and mad to touch it right now. Still awaiting the final shipments too which will only make it worse. Tried to offer some of the pumpkins to the Princess for her house for Halloween. I was officially told NOTHING related to the wedding was coming anywhere near her or her house. Well, so much for that brilliant idea, better find some storage tubs to get it out of our sight then. If only she would finish moving the rest of her lifelong collection of "stuff" out of my house to hers I might have room to put some of it. Just don't have the heart to push her right now, and now she doesn't feel good which equals one VERY cranky 18 year old for sure.


Now she is calling wanting to know if she has to have a springform pan to make a cheescake. OMG! To be young again, wait, never mind.

Moving day

Well, today is officially moving day for the sweet Princess. The new carpet was installed yesterday and today the landlord has a cleaning crew coming to do a thorough cleaning prior to her moving in this after noon. She is both excited and terrified, but I am sure she will do just fine. At least her new abode is only across the street from us, as I am sure for awhile there will be a few requests for assistance and the occasional plea to kill a dreaded spider or two.

Funny, you spend your whole life raising tiny beings to be strong, independant souls and it feels like the days are endless to get there. Then when it finally arrives, your heart is full of joy, sadness, regrets, and hopes for the future. Did I teach them the right things? Did I prepare them for how cruel the real world beyond these walls can really be? Did I give them enough love and understanding to pull from on the darkest days? Did I give them the tools needed to problem solve all of lifes challenges? Did I show them the way to trust in themselves to accomplish their goals and dreams? Did I fill their hearts with even a fraction of the joy that they have brought to me? Did I give them the map to follow back home anytime they need a friend?

Good luck dear Princess, I wish you joy, love, peace, and happiness in this new adventure. I love you with all my heart and know you will be just fine.

Sad day in the neighborhood

I am afraid it is a rather sad week in our neighbor hood here. Quite a bit of reflections in the old gazing ball have tears in their eyes. Lets just sum it up quickly and spare everyone the gorey, boring details.

1. I now have a very unstylish boot to wear on my broken foot for several weeks. I was cleaning my carpets, and on the way to empty the container, slipped on the kitchen floor. Quite a site I am afraid as my foot went sliding into the counter, followed by my knee, then tweaked my back which went the other direction with the water bucket. After 4 days of not being able to walk on my left foot despite the black toes and swelling, I went to the dreaded doc who informed me my toes were fine, but have a crack in the bone of my foot and a chip in the end of the same bone. So now have to wear this monster boot for at least 2 weeks. At least the swelling is down and the color is returning to a more normal state. The boot does help a ton or else I have to walk on the side of my foot.

2. Three of my coworkers suddenly resigned and left the two of us remaining with a ton of work. This means I get to fly to LV next week with my lovely boot for the day to help sort the mess. I hate spineless people who turn in notice at the exact same moment at 11pm on a holiday weekend after a company has literally bent over backward to help them for months. Really gets me ya know. Means good old me has more work than I can stand, but will get thru it but little time for play.

3. Biggest news is the Princess wedding is officially cancelled. He "doesn't want to be with her anymore and just wants to be friends". No explanation, no nothing. Princess is simply devestated and wants to hide. I am so upset I don't know what to do. I had just ordered all the personalized items etc, invitations are out, the pool enclosure is nearly complete with $1000 worth of plywood, the dress is hanging with all its accessories, and the rental home is set to move in on Saturday. She wants to move anyway although she can just barely afford it and I can't talk her out of it. We are all just stunned and not sure what to do next.

So, forgive me while I likely disappear for awhile to tend the princess and plot my voodoo punishment for the run a way groom.

Note to self.........

Well, the last few weeks are simply a blur. I have finally completed the wedding invitations, all that remains is the dreaded trip to the post office to determine the necessary postage for them so I can get them mailed. If my camera battery weren't dead, I would post pix for you to see. Note to self, NEVER volunteer to make these blasted things again!

Next I suppose I better get busy making the bouquets. Note to self, NEVER volunteer to make these blasted things again! At least there are only 2 of these to make in silk as the Princess wants fresh calla lilies for hers. Then again, will need multiple arrangements for various tables, etc. Note to self, NEVER volunteer to make these again!

The project after that will be to make multiple wedding cakes. See, Princess wants multiple smaller cakes instead of a large one. So, one will be a small 3 tier, then various others in graduating sizes. Note to self, NEVER volunteer to make these again!

At least the Princess has her gown, veil, tiara, etc, etc. I am desperately seeking a 3 photo locket to attach to her bouquet. I would like to insert a photo of her father/stepmom, Prince Charming/my sorry ol self, and the center with Princess/Groom. I think this would be a lovely keepsake for her to have and something she would not expect. I have searched high and low on ebay etc and have only found one, but alas was a day late and a dollar short. So, if any blogger friends run across one, please let me know!

She still needs to do the alterations to the gown (can you say hurry up already), decide on shoes, hair, etc. Bridezilla doesn't begin to describe what we have sunk to these days friends. Let's just say dear old Mom is fed up with this circus!

Oh, did I fail to mention I have a living room corner full of white pumpkins to glitter? Menus to plan and cook and serve? You guessed it, Mom has been designated wedding coordinator, baker, florist, planner, caterer, and all around day labor! Note to self, if son ever marries, just give him a check to elope and tell him to send a post card. Note to self, NEVER volunteer to do this again!!!! Especially when he is now saying he likely can't attend as the boss won't give him time off (read between the lines, his girlfriend hates Princess).

Today I get a call from the stepmother who has taken over planning the bridal shower for the maid of honor (her daughter-yeah, don't ask) who tells me it will be a naughty nightie party and she is booking a local hotel suite as the casinos won't rent a space without tons of issues. Fine, whatever, just do it. I am trying folks to rise to the occasion and bite my tongue, but I am seriously thinking I will need some serious medication before this is over. I can't even go into all the gorey details, but let's just say having me in closed quarters with this woman may result in some very bad vibes that won't be good for anyone. Let's just hope its short and sweet and there is plenty of alcohol in my beverage................

One plus is, the future bride/groom are allegedly moving out on September 1! I say allegedly as it isn't Sept. 1 yet and the fat lady hasn't sung. Good news, they get the heck out of my house which may decrease some of the constant irritation. Bad news, it is literally across the street. Good news, they can get all this "crap" we are accumulating out of my way so I can work and live! Bad news, I am doomed with the wedding crap everywhere until October 21! Note to self, change locks, move and leave no forwarding address on October 22!!!

So blog friends, if you have made it this far in my ranting, I apologize slightly. But, where else can I let off steam if not my seriously lame blog. If you come across a locket, let me know. If you come across any incredible cake recipes, let me know. If you come across incredibly cheap Cinderella/candlelight wedding items, let me know. If you think I'm crazy, don't bother, I already know....

PS, Princess had her tongue pierced over the weekend just to piss me off! Note to self, thank your lucky stars every day you only had two children to irritate you and that they are still around to irritate you!

Dog tired

(What are you looking at?)

I thought I should put up a new post since yesterday was a bit harsh. Some days reality just gets a little too intense around here. The photo is my Princess's dog Gidget in her typical "after bath suffering pose". Most days I'm not really sure which one of them is more spoiled. Frankly it is a draw I'm sure.

(Again? Can't you see we are sleeping here?)

This one is of my dear Princess and her best friend both dog tired and out for the count. Princess has a new job (real live grown up 12 hour shift busting ass job-everyone say
"YEE-HAW!) now. Unfortunately it is very hard labor for a print company that spits out thousands of our favorite magazines each day. She is the only girl on the floor doing this kind of work and the boys are putting her thru the proverbial tests to say the least. If she can hang thru this, I know she will make it up the ladder in no time.

Unfortunately, she has to wear steel toed boots for this environment. This meant new shoe shopping which did not rank up there with anything Stacey and Clinton would deem "fit to wear". Face it, steel toed boots are not a fashion statement. Especially in a town our size where we were lucky enough to find a massive TWO styles that even came in her size. So, good ol' Mom shelled out some serious cash and bought her a pair that appeared to be the best as far as comfort, safety etc. Off she went for the job. First day, what appeared to be a heat rash around her ankles at the top of the boot. Second day, uglier rash around top of boot and some impressive blisters on her feet. Couple days off, back for day three, rash at top of legs had cleared up, but now back but good ol' Mom only had a brief peak as I did't get home til after bedtime thanks to work travel and a seriously messed up airline industry. Anyway, day four, and BIG problems Houston!!!!! Now the formerly appearing rash has developed into blisters extending 2 inches and circling her legs. Poor kid could barely walk let alone put on the boots and go to work.

She obviously was having some form of reaction to those damn boots! I sent her to the doctor with Prince Charming, and back they came with some topical cream and a note to remain off work for 4 days. So, we did the cream, Benadryl, Ibuprofen and the agony continued and in fact worsened. By the 4th day, the blisters were now over 1/2 inch thick and growing by the hour. I sent her back to the doctor again after me, the dim witted nurse, finally put two and two together. See, Princess is way too much like her mom. She itches with soaps, bubble bath, lotions, etc. For years we couldn't figure out why if she spent two hours in the bathroom applying makeup like wall spackle, her feet would become red, swollen, and itch herself to death. Same time frame as we got the new puppy who felt this was her domain to use as a yard... Anyway, I thru away the rugs and got all cotton that I can bleach etc to remove the smell.. Ironically we didn't notice her foot problem went away. Another time Prince Charming drug us all to a out of town rodeo where we spent two days in a Minus 6 Star hotel, cheap, flat, industrial carpet. Princess made one trip to the bathroom in bare feet and literally scratched off her skin before 10 minutes was up. So, enter work boots with leather, heavy padding, stitching at ankles, etc. Are you seeing a pattern here? Aren't you glad I'm a nurse instead of a rocket scientist as it took me flipping forever to get it.

Princess has a LATEX allergery. Boots have foam padding topped by the wonderful "breathable fabric" enclosed in a solid leather shell. Foams and padding and glue for shoes are made from rubber based products. Sweat and stand on your feet working your ass off for 12 hours with that enclosed area on your skin, bingo, allergic reaction that intensifies with time. Same for rubber backed bath mats, cheap carpet, carpet padding, bandaids, the list is literally endless! So, she heads back to the doc and lucky for her could only see the nurse practitioner. She actually looks, listens, feels, and at long last drains those damn blisters since one had already exploded on its own. Infection is already present, now we get another topical ointment, antibiotics, and off work for another week. In two days, things are finally calming down and just centered on the blisters. Each day it gradually improves, but let me tell you. Having Latex allergy is worse than anything you could ever imagine. Have a look at the limited selection in the market place if you don't believe me. So much is taken for granted, ie shoes and socks. Yes my friend, those favorite socks of yours that actually stay up where you want them are full of latex (elastic, spandex etc). Try finding a pair of all cotton socks with no elastic. Yeah, welcome to my world. Off Prince Charming and Princess go as she NEEDS this job, therefore she needs another new pair of shoes. Last ditch effort they head to our bright, shiny, new Cabela's. (Little did they know Mom scoped out the internet and sent them there knowing they had a pair that is barely ankle high and would miss the affected area, our secret, shhh). Home they came grinning from ear to ear with new boots. Again not on the fashion radar, but fairly comfortable, only model in her size, and the saleman was ZERO help insisting none would fit her. Dear Prince made it clear he wasn't leaving the store until something was found if it meant trying on every damn shoe in the store. See why I married him, my cowboy up, git-r-done hero? Yeah, tough guy with a heart of marshmallows. Sorry, sidetracked. So, they march in with big grins and new shoes and the incredible story demanding Mom to guess the price. Come on, just guess they say, with that look of you won't believe it when we tell you... I pondered several moments and say "UMM, $49.00"? Smiles vanish, heads sag, shoulders slump, heavy sighs. "How the hell come you are so smart Mom?" they say.

Mom, "Haven't I told you a thousand times? Mom's know everything!" (wink, wink, shh our secret!)

So, everyone cross your fingers, toes, legs, eyes, and any other part you can manage that her new boots now won't do the same thing. Today is her first day back after this ordeal and I am literally holding my breath that all goes well. Oh, and for good measure hope the print machine doesn't explode again and douse her in industrial permanent print ink like it did the last day there. Let me tell you, it is IMPOSSIBLE to remove said ink from your Princess's FAVORITE pair of jeans she was wearing that now have a seriously homeless man appearance. I tried every damn product on the market, but after 5 days of trying I have given up hope. Lucky for us, she now has her company paid uniforms that are another fashion statement-not, but company paid and if desired company laundered as well. Good for those ink saturated days. Here is an FYI for you, should you ever find your skin saturated in permanent ink (I told you the machine exploded), Purity Made Simple by Philosophy is a "face cleanser" product that we have been using around here for awhile now. Pricey devil but great for literally melting off your makeup and mascara etc yet leaves your skin feeling clean and not like you scrubbed with bleach and shrink wrap. Anyway, Princess headed to the tub to soak her bones, washed her face, and "accidentally discovered" that during this process her hands were suddenly resembling a caucasian appearance again. So, she scrubbed a area on her arm, poof the ink disappeared. In comes mom to hit the large areas on her back (exploding machine I tell you), and again like magic the ink disappeared. Her boss had scrubbed her with every industrial chemical they own to remove ink prior to her coming home with no success. The guys have permanent rainbow tattoo areas on them from years of this. Not Princess, she is squeeky clean! AND it doesn't make her itch like most of those darn products on the market. And no, I don't work for Philosophy, in fact many of their products don't help my oily face much, but I will buy this stuff now if it means giving up other indulgences. I already use many of the products such as shower gel, perfume, micropeel pads, lotion etc. Let's say QVC is on my speed dial, and the supersize bottles are my friend! So, if you find yourself at the mercy of an exploding print machine, or simply a drawing board for a toddler with a passion for a sharpie marker, give the Purity stuff a try.

Hope everyone has a good day, and good weekend as will be several days before I get a chance to post.

Why?

Why does the human race live long enough for previously strong, independant, intelligent souls to become unable to remember their children, unable to independantly perform their own daily care activities, and unable to perform simple tasks that were always taken for granted?

Why does the human race sustain life for those who have been given every opportunity to have the best that life can offer them, yet they chose to pursue avenues that are illegal and self destructive? Why must these same individuals be allowed to seek consolation from the very beings that gave them a chance to do good but were blamed when another path was chosen?

Why must the human race feel guilty for doing the best we can with the avenues available to us, but manage somehow to never measure up to "good enough" status?

Why do the "weakest links" in the human race manage to slide thru even the worst of times, while those who choose to go the extra mile are forced to endure the wrath of the consequences of the weak?

Why do we allow others to treat us as simple trash to be discarded on a whim or retrieve in the event the same trash may be considered to have some monetary value to redeem?

Why do we silently bite our tongues rather than speak the truth that no one wants to hear for fear it may hurt someone's feelings, while secretly inside we are dying our own, quiet, agonizing death?

Why do humans not feel the need to accept responsibility for our own actions and yet insist on forgiveness by simply saying we are sorry and a idle promise of it won't happen again?

Why do we demand respect and trust after repeatedly demonstrating that these values do not exist in our physical or chemical being time and time and time again?

Why to human's chose to avoid difficult situations and let the burden of dealing with life fall to someone else? Why do those same humans then raise blame on those who are left to do what no one else will because it has to be done?

Why?