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Sunday, April 22, 2012


Charlie looks very angelic for a demon child.

Seriously.  She has these big blue eyes, this creamy soft skin, this mischievous little little ginger baby is adorable if I do say so myself.  But good God almighty, that child is hell on wheels.  Or rather, hell on tiny size 4 sneakers.

I went to the Children's Museum with my sister-in-law this weekend.  After watching Charlie climb up (and almost fall down) a set of stairs, pick up several chairs (and throw one in a fit of rage when it wasn't doing exactly what she wanted it to...), arch her back and throw herself around when I dared to stop her from falling off of a bench, and attempt to climb up the side of the car that they had for kids to pretend to drive, she turned to me and said, "I see now why you call her Char-Rambo."


Charlie is a tank.  She knows what she wants and she goes for it with a passion that only a toddler can muster.  She sits and concentrates and figures things out and by God, if it does not do what she thinks it should do, her head starts spinning and green vomit comes out her mouth.  Kidding!  (Well, maybe just a little bit...)

When do we lose that single-minded determination to figure things out?  When does the child learn to temper the emotions to more socially acceptable responses, like binge drinking and cage fighting?  I wish I knew the exact moment, because I want to tell Charlie to never lose that passion.  Learn to control it, to direct it in a positive direction...but to never stop feeling the sting of that chair not doing what the fuck you want it to when you have tried so hard to figure it out.

Tuesday, April 17, 2012

Conversations VIII

Charles:  (referring to the TV show Swamp People)  They are making this appeal to people who think that women aren't as good as men.  I'll bet Liz could kick most men I know's ass...

Me:  I am just so proud of you right at this moment...

Charles:  Well, you could give me a blow job...

Me:  And then you just kept talking...

Monday, April 9, 2012


Do you know that there are entire television shows dedicated to filming people (mainly men, with a token woman thrown in) hunting wild game? 

There are also shows dedicated to guns and target shooting.

This was information that I could have gone pretty much my whole life without knowing, and still felt that I was a pretty educated individual.

Just sayin'...

Sunday, April 1, 2012


The aroma of vinegar is forever associated with the dyeing of Easter eggs by me.  I remember the excitement of coloring eggs every year for Easter, using the Paas kits.  They have not changed much in the 30+ years I have been doing this...still the same little tablets that bubble, the same clear crayon that magically makes words come out on the eggs, the same wrappers that you can put around the eggs that crack.  There are a few minor differences in what I do and what we did when I was young...I don't keep the eggs out on the table for weeks at a time and then allow my children to eat them (MOM!!!), Elizabeth is way more creative with her decorations than we ever were as children, my kids actually eat the eggs we dye (to me, any egg tastes like a tiny bit of hell in your mouth).  The act of dyeing the eggs, though, is essentially the same.

When I have grandchildren I want to do this with them.  It might just be eggs, but there are memories there.  It was a time from my childhood I can remember being happy.  It was fun and innocent.  I want that to keep up throughout the generations.  There is wonder in the fizzing of those tablets, the creation of something pretty from something plain, the time spent together.  It is worth spending time on, because the payback is rich.