About three months ago the man child decided to become a vegetarian after watching a video on YouTube.  (I hate that freaking site)  The man child who knows everything and doesn't need to take any advice from the old people.  The same one who came storming into the house after school last week, completely panicked because he has dropped 30lbs. off his benchpress weight.  My reply to this?  "What did you think would happen to your muscle mass when you decided to live on peanutbutter sandwiches and lettuce?  Now will you listen to me?"

This provided a very rare situation.  The two of us out together, voluntarily.  It amazes me that everything I've been saying to him was ridiculous until it was repeated  by the chick in the GNC.  It had to be true coming from her.  After all, she had on a fancy nametag and used bigger words than, "No protein, no muscles, dude."

I had fun hanging out with him and running errands.  During one of them, he made a comment about something we were buying and why the woman behind the counter seemed to be more trusting of me than him.  At first I sugarcoated it by saying that it was obviously because I'm an older person, blah blah blah.  He wasn't convinced that was it, so I just admitted that maybe he looked like someone who would shoplift.

He was extremely offended.  I explained that maybe because he was a teenaged boy with an earring, a lip ring, a dark t-shirt with the name of a punk rock band splashed across the front, and shoes with fake fur on them, he might give off the impression of being a little rebellious punk.

He launched into this tirade about how unfair it was to judge him by his appearance.  After all, he's a straight A student who plays football, never breaks curfew, doesn't drink or smoke, or cause trouble of any other kind.

I countered with the statement that obviously it's wrong to judge someone without knowing them first, but to think we all aren't judged by our appearances is ridiculous.  How else are you going to develop an opinion of a total stranger you're going to spend no more than a couple minutes with if not by the impression they give you with their appearance?  A sales clerk in a store isn't going to spend enough time talking with you in order to find out your thoughts and attitudes.  Unfortunately they're left with nothing other than how you look... how you're dressed and possibly whether or not you're a polite person.  It isn't right, but that doesn't keep it from happening.

So I went back to the words he's heard from me so many times I'm sure he has nightmares about them.  I told him that we've allowed him to be his own person with his personal tastes and styles.  We want him to make the statements that are important to him.  But if he feels he's man enough to make bold statements, he has to be adult enough to deal with the fact not everyone is going to understand what he's saying.

That got a grunt and an eyeroll.

Then, not ten minutes later, we pass a kid with the waistband of his jeans almost down to his knees, a nasty baseball cap turned backwards, and untied sneakers with the strings flopping on the floor as he walked.  He was walking all cocky and looked like he'd probably be a little smartass.  Man child makes a comment to that fact, sort off-handedly.  Something about the "tough guy". 

I stopped in the middle of the aisle and just looked at him with my mouth on the floor.  I said, "Did you see what you just did?"  He was obviously confused.  When I pointed out that he had just proven the point of my unwanted, unappreciated lecture, the look that washed over his face will be something I'll remember with great joy for the rest of my life.

The point is, he's learning life's lessons.  Sometimes he even pays attention.  That should make me feel good, but it scares me to death.  He's almost a man.  Soon enough he won't have to ask permission to do things his way.  It's a cold world out there.  Even believing you've done your best just doesn't make a parent feel any better, does it? 

I'm so proud of him.  He's a strong intelligent person.  He has great values and a heart of gold.  He's turned into a confident individual completely comfortable in who he is.  That makes me so happy.  But I know all too well how quickly the world can take your strength, confidence, and individuality and spank your ass with it all.  It's not a hurts so good kind of feeling, either. 

There's no way to protect them from that without convincing them to conform and be what the world wants them to be, is there.  I admit that sometimes a tiny voice in my head whispers the wish that he'd do just that, but I know in my heart how disappointed I'd be if he caved in and became fake.

So what's my plan?  He's thinking about staying home and going to school locally.  How many years can you stay in school, anyway?  How many degrees can one person get in a lifetime?  I'm thinking he should stay right here and find out.

Before I write this, let me say, I'm sorry.  It's just that I need to share the first thing that has made me laugh in days.  Just let me say that the truth is, I may not be registered a Democrat, but if we were sitting and having coffee right now, you'd probably find that I have more than a few Democratic opinions.  There are very few things I disagree with in that party, it's just that those things are so important to me, my convictions will not allow me to align myself with them.  I'm a girl, my emotions are important.  Duh.

Having said that, to wake up to news spots on the upcoming Democratic convention in Colorado directly followed by tornados hitting Colorado, I'm sorry.  I laughed.  I know having a tornado in your state is not funny.  I've had several in the past year or so.  Someone, (Norman, probably) tell me how often a tornado hits Colorado.  Isn't part of it actually in Tornado Alley?  (I'm not giggling, I swear)  Oh and just so you know, even if it had been the Republican convention, I'd have still laughed at the back to back news stories.

Okay, on to more serious things.  Normally I'm extremely intimidated by my lack of spelling ability.  So I second guessed myself on the plural form of "tornado".  When I flipped over to the online Webster, I saw that it's acceptable with or with the "e", and it sort of pissed me off.  Everything is so wishy-washy these days. 

Am I rambling incoherently?  Absolutely.  I had the weekend from hell.  It ended on the upswing, but there were parts that were truly truly the most miserable moments I've had in a very long time.  However, let's just say there's very little in life a hysterical breakdown with a sledge hammer in your hand cannot fix.

The end result?  I have a new working fridge, and the fucker fits into the proper space.

Still no rain or cool air.  Still too hot to sleep at night.  So it should be obvious why I may sound on the verge of needing some couch time and a spot on Oprah.  We have fans, and they keep us cool enough to sleep, but the noise is driving me crazy.

So Monday is starting off with a real bang.  If I can get everyone out of the house without hurting any of them, things will be looking up early!  But let's not get our hopes up just yet.  It's just now time to wake them up.  Let's hope they wake up feeling better than I did.

Cross your dang fingers... for the sake of the children.  Here we go...

I don't post on Saturdays very often, but it's quiet here, and I don't really want to get up and be mobile just yet.  Not that I intend to do very much at all today, anyway.  The central air unit is out on the main floor so it's going to get really miserable here in another couple hours.  Of course, being my air unit, the thing that broke is a factory part and won't be delivered until sometime next week so I have to suffer until then.  And obviously it would happen during a very hot humid stretch of weather.  We're begging for rain while everyone else swims away.  C'est la vie.

I'm watching cartoons.  I still put the tv channel on a cartoon on Saturday mornings.  I can't help myself.  It's hard to find a funny one, though.  These days they're all educational.  I used to think that was a good idea, but now I realize it's just plain boring.  Why can't our kids grow up with Tom and Jerry?

I do have something I have to do today.  I have deadlines.  More personal ones than anything, but if I can't meet these, then my desire to begin to use my craft for occasional profit are pretty much pipe dreams.  You see this square? 

I know the detail isn't very clear in this picture.  It's just so much easier to take the pic with my phone and then email it to myself.

Also, it's not easy to see unless you do this sort of thing, but those are small stitches which means extra work. 

I have nineteen more of those to make... today.  Then I have to get it off in the mail early next week.  I'd like to have it finished and ready to go by Monday.  We'll see if I'm good enough.

I wish the colors were better.  Might have been better if I'd taken the picture in better light.  Pastels are hard to see, but they're very pretty greens and blues on the border rounds.  Maybe once the blanket is finished, I'll post a nice picture of the entire thing.  

That's what I intend to do with my Saturday.  After I figure out what to do about the dying fridge, that is.  Yes, not only is the air conditioning out but so is the fridge.  If I believed in reincarnation, right now I'd be wondering just what kind of evil bitch I was in my former life to deserve all this.  As it stands, if I asked my deacon daddy, he'd say it's because I'm not going to church or praying regularly.  My thoughts?  I think it's just plain ole everyday life and my short attention span that causes me to neglect normal upkeep on things around my house.  Plain and simple.

Either way, I may just blow it all off, pack up the kids, and take them and my crochet bag to the park.  Although I won't do that until this evening.  It's too hot outside during the early afternoon.  The kids would probably end up with heat strokes in this.  The big old dark house doesn't get unbearable, so we'll wait it out until this evening... maybe play in the water or something.

Right now I'm going back to my cartoons and coffee.  Where's an episode of "Pinky and the Brain" when you need it? 

I have to tell you this news story.  There's a road closed a bit north of me.  You want to know why, don't you.  Here goes.  I'm going to give you even more things to make fun of me over.

The road is closed because the truck picking up roadkill has wrecked.

Even I couldn't make that up.

How do you get a job picking up roadkill?!?  I'm sure it's a county job.  Who's wife do you have to get caught screwing in order to be assigned roadkill duty??  Raise your hand if you spent your childhood writing stories about how you wanted to be the roadkill guy when you grew up.

I mean, I knew the county sent someone out to do that.  After all, cars dodging a dead animal on the road isn't safe.  But there's someone driving around with a truck filled with them every morning??  Even though this didn't happen in my county, it very well could have been here.

So this person spent the night picking up dead animals from the roadways only to wreck and put them right back... just in one place.  I wonder why he wrecked.

He probably hit an animal.

Hi.  My name is Angel, and I am a whiteboard addict.  As a matter of fact, I am an office supply addict.  This can be proven by walking through my house and seeing all the various walls covered by corkboard and whiteboard (not even talking about the whiteboard/chalkboard wall I made for the kids) as well as the fact I can't walk through a single store anywhere which carries pens or stationery without basically being turned on.  I just need everything to be organized and neat.

The thing is, I've always been this way except I used to be worse.

As a teenager, it would take me weeks to choose a new journal after filling up the old one.  Never mind that no one is supposed to see your journal.  It had to be something I thought was beautiful. 

Much like my underwear back then.  No one was going to see it, but it had to match whatever I was wearing on the outside.

My own version of OCD?  Maybe.  After all, I did sew colored dots on the big toe of my socks so that I knew which foot stretched out which sock as well as keeping mates together.

Obviously my bag had to match my shoes from about the age of five.  I never wore nail polish as a teen unless it was a special occasion because I didn't have time to change it every single night.

My cds and cassettes (yes, casettes) had to be in alphabetical order in the cases even though that would require me to move every.single.one of them each time I bought a new one.  My books had to be arranged alphabetically by author, naturally.

Coloring pencils and crayons were arranged by hue in thier boxes, and I never ever mixed gold and silver jewelry.  I still have a hard time doing it even though it's fairly common these days.

The money in my wallet had to be grouped and facing the same direction.  I have found myself choosing flowers for the yard based on whether or not they'll match the house... it's brick.

Middle child syndrome, OCD, forced perfection... whatever you want to call it, I got over it. 

Mostly.

These days the whiteboards hang unused for weeks at a time, my journal is electronic (although I'm going back to paper), I'm lucky if I can find a pen when I need it, and lord, please let my underwear just not have any holes in them.

I get my music from itunes, we're lucky to find a piece of a crayon to use when we need it, and who has time to put on jewelry?!  Forget matching it.

What money?  Who has money? 

Oh, and screw the yard.  Next year I'm paying a service.

So I'm going to do this shop thing.  It's going to take a few months to materialize.  I get that.  But I'm going to sit down, make out a business plan, and set a date.  I want to be reasonable with my expectations, but I want to push myself, too.

I'm going to start with a website.  But before I do anything else, I need a name.  The name of the site will also be the name of the shop. 

I need help!  Throw some names my way!  Please?  Not that any of you will ever need it, but I'll give ya a discount if you ever shop on the site or in the store!  Who knows, you might someday want a really cool looking afghan or baby blanket, right?

Just a note, though... I like playing with words, yes.  Like "ewe" for "you".  I see that a lot on fiber sites.  BUT, I absolutely hate purposely misspelled words.  The name of my shop will never have something like "kool" for "cool" or "hatz", etc. in it.

So a name for a shop dealing in fiber arts.  Yarns, threads, needles, hooks, books, totes, ribbon... you get the picture.  Now get the name and send it to me!

MoTime went down, and I saw my sanity flash before my eyes!  Not because I couldn't post, I hadn't been posting regularly lately, anyway.  Besides, what I'd been posting was nothing more than fluff so no one would worry about me. 

But I read.  I read every single day.  I read my darling MoTime community every single day.  I wasn't angry that we were having trouble.  After all, it's hard to be upset with a site as wonderful as our MoTime, isn't it.  How many other sites give the constant personal attention we get here?  Not to mention my crush on Howard refuses to let me feel anything but complete adoration for the MoTime powers that be.  Anyway, I'm glad it's back.

This guy and girl asked what my ideal shop would be like.  If I had my way it would be in an older house where customers could wander from room to room admiring the perfect fibers, books, hooks, and needles.  One room would be for classes and another would have overstuffed comfortable chairs where people could get together and work on projects with a good cup of coffee and friends.  I always assumed that sort of thing only happened in movies or books, but the last few shops I've been in have all offered that kind of atmosphere and it seems to work.  I'd let local crafts people offer classes through my shop, and I'd help to sponser the local craft fairs and such.  I'm not completely out of my head.  I know it would be hard work.  I've owned my own business before, and I realize the sacrifice that comes with it, but the good stuff can happen as well.

Olivia, yes, I'm the one that lives in the historic house.  It's not always easy to stay ahead of the chores around an old house, but it's more than worth it.  I love this house even when I'm cursing and yelling over it.

Fortunately, my husband's grandmother loved antiques.  She kept all her old furniture, and when she died, his parents ended up with two houses worth of furniture crammed underneath one roof.  I think my mother-in-law, while she appreciates the beauty and value of this stuff, she's secretly been waiting for someone to pass it on to so that she can clear her house out some.

 I haven't had to ask for a single thing yet.  She just keeps finding things to bring me on her own!  I was going to post these pics the day MoTime went down.  I only mention that because, for once, it wasn't my fault that I'm late! 

I couldn't believe it when she offered me this vanity.  I can't believe neither one of the other daughter-in-laws want any of this stuff.  Their tastes are only for modern expensive things.  I guess that's fine if you can get it, right.  I just think it's weird they both have houses almost empty because they refuse to even use this stuff to start out... until they can afford the rest.

I had this piece already and was thrilled to see that it was the mate to the vanity!  The wood matches the sleigh bed perfectly even though the bed isn't part of the set.

My mother-in-law is the person who encouraged me to work on my family tree.  She knew how interested I was in finding out more information about my ancestors, and she never forgot to ask me how far I'd gone in my search each time we talked.  I'm not sure if that gave me the desire to look because I really wanted to know or if I just got embarrassed at having to admit I hadn't looked every time.  Either way, I now know I'm Scottish.  In fact, I'm almost a completely equal mix of Scottish and Cherokee descent.

Finding that out didn't change a single thing about my day to day life.  I'm no more or less proud than I was before knowing it.  I always knew about the Cherokee side of the family.  Finding out the rest didn't make me want to wear a kilt anymore than I've ever wanted to proclaim I'm an Indian.  The fact is, I'm not Scottish and I'm not an Indian.  I was born and raised a southern white country girl, and that's what I am.  It's just really nice knowing how I got here... where I came from.  Since I never seem to know where I'm going, it's always nice to know where I've been.

I was afraid that I would have tons of blog posts to catch up on once I got back to reading them this week, but fortunately/unfortunately it looks as though everyone has been just as busy as me!

The kids seem to have settled back into their routines for school as well as possible while I'm struggling with that 5:30am wake up call more than I thought I would.  It was rough for the first few days, trying to get them into bed on time and up on time.  B actually hasn't been the tough one.  The older kids are the ones driving me crazy.

Our family guests will go home today, and while it has been fun having them here, I'll be happy to get things back to normal.  It's hard playing the cheerful hostess when you're totally not feeling it.

We took the kids to the county fair yesterday.  They enjoyed it, and I met a really sweet lady who had a booth of homemade candles.  Having a conversation with her made me think about my own dream of having that shop again.  I just don't think it's possible right now, but I like thinking about it as a maybe.  Someday.

I started thinking about it again after visiting that darling little yarn shop in Charleston.  I think it surprised my husband to see that I hadn't just been singing the praises of a shop like that as we stood in line watching woman after woman spend hundreds of dollars on crafting supplies.

Our country may be hurting economically, but if we gave up our hobbies, we'd all go mad.  Those of us lucky enough to have a hobby or interest, that is.  I haven't had the opportunity to knit or crochet in a while now, but I miss it.  I intend to get out my needles and hooks as soon as possible and get back to what keeps me sane. 

Lately I've just been caught up in reading, and I can't really see that as a waste of time.  Actually, I haven't had time to do either, I've just taken the time to read.  I don't regret it.  Everybody needs a break every once in a while.

My mother-in-law is always so supportive of someone's dreams and talents.  Everytime we talk about my ideas for a shop, she pushes me to think of different ways to make it happen.  Everyone needs someone like her in their lives. 

When Screw crawls out of bed, I'll take a picture of the furniture for the blog.  I love this old stuff, and it's just perfect for my house.  I think you'll all agree.

The weekend brought unexpected visitors, but I was only sort of spastic in preparing for their arrival.  Okay, I was really spastic, but I hate being unprepared.  We have family here for a few days, and while I wish I'd had more time to plan, I didn't have a complete meltdown.

I always love when my mother-in-law visits.  I'm just used to feeling better when she's here, so I'm afraid that I won't be much fun during her visit.  I'm certainly not upset that she's here.  We get along really well, and she's good company.  Not to mention the biggest reason for her visit was to bring me some antique furniture for the house.

One of my biggest worries is that my brother-in-law is here.  He's sweet, but he's young.  I have no idea how to entertain him while Screw is at work and the kids are at school.  I can throw some videogames at him, but that's about it.  I still don't know him well enough to plan for his visits.  I'm glad my mother-in-law is with him.

The truth is I did more than spaz out a little.  I'm not sure why I always freak out over the small things like this and then let the huge things go right on by without blinking.  These little hiccups usually pass uneventful, but not until I've worked myself into a near breakdown.

Is that a woman thing?

The good news is Screw's family seems to understand that I have times I'm not well, and I don't think they'll take it personally if I'm not very talkative or active.  Hopefully the visit will go well, and maybe I'll even have a good time.

After my divorce I absolutely loved sleeping alone.  I think that stemmed from staying in my marriage far longer than I should have.  By the time I got the nerve to walk away, I hated the thought of him being near me.  I couldn't stand sleeping in the bed beside him.  As a matter of fact, I was sleeping on the couch long before I actually left him.

But after a while I began missing having someone next to me, feeling someone move in the middle of the night.  I remember nights when I was so lonely just to feel the weight of someone beside me.  It wasn't about sex, it was about human touch, comfort.

In the beginning of my relationship with my new husband, I think my subconscious flashed back to the smothering feelings of sharing such intimacies as my bed.  I've blogged about how touchy I was and how mean I was to him.  I wouldn't let him sleep anywhere near me for the longest time.  He could screw me.  He just couldn't hold me.

He slowly tore down those walls, and before I even realized it was happening I became addicted to the feel of him next to me.  The only way I could fall asleep was if he was against me, touching in some way.  And this would explain why I wasn't able to sleep last night.  I honestly haven't been to bed yet.  Well, I went to bed.  I tossed and turned, got up to soak in the tub, and then tossed and turned some more.  He was away last night, and I couldn't sleep.  How pathetic I've become.

I'm going to assume part of my problem was that my mind was just too full to sleep.  I haven't felt well lately, but even more than that, today is the first day of school for the kids.  I didn't think B would ever go to sleep.  She's so nervous.  First grade is certainly the most important thing that could ever happen to a little girl.

Now, all those big plans I had to enjoy the first day of peace and quiet will more than likely be spent napping and getting absolutely nothing accomplished.  Oh well, there's always tomorrow!

I smell... freshly sharpened pencils, construction paper, new shoes, crayons, ink, the crisp early morning air!  I see new backpacks, pretty clothes, big yellow buses, happiness on parents, and anxiety on children.  Oh yeah, school starts Thursday!  I have to admit I'm not usually this happy to see the beginning of a new school year, but this year, I simply cannot wait for them to go.  I'm looking forward to their busy schedules and chaotic lives.  I've found I don't care for lazy, careless, meandering children moaning and complaining all day, everyday.  I like them much better when they're determined, excited, and social even if it means more work for me. 

To be honest, I think I need the work.  I'm beginning to become a recluse of sorts.  I hate getting out of the house, for anything.  I don't even like going shopping anymore.  I was being lighthearted in the first paragraph.  I'm completely serious in this one.  I really am beginning to feel a dread and fear when I think about having to be out of the house for long periods of time.  I worry.  What if I'm gone too long?  What if the kids do something bad while I'm gone?  If I take them with me, I'm sure they'll be trouble the entire time.  What if I don't get everything finished while I'm out?  What if I forget something?  What if I do something wrong?  What if I use too much gas?  What if I get sick while I'm out and have to stop to vomit a lot?  What if I spend too much?  What if I wreck?  Yeah, it's just creepy, so I'm glad this week is going to force me back into reality whether I like it or not.

On a less creepy note, why didn't someone tell me?  So I thought that buying freshly ground coffee each week was great.  I've never been one to care about the taste of my coffee because I began drinking it out of complete desperation to force myself awake twenty hours a day.  The job I was working involved extremely long odd hours because of the many conference calls with other countries in different time zones.  And that wasn't counting the hours spent on my normal work during normal work days.  So I didn't care what it tasted like as long as it was loaded with caffeine.  My normal breakfast was a cappuccino and an energy bar at about six every morning, and my day didn't end until that last coffee wore off around one or two the following morning.  No joke.  (No wonder I went extreme on the staying home thing, huh.  It's no wonder my body hates me, too.)

Anyway, I digress... now I'm drinking coffee for that morning kick, yes, but it's as much for the taste and enjoyment as for the caffeine.  I began buying fresh coffee a few months ago.  Now, by fresh I mean as fresh as I can get around here with them grinding enough for the week in the store.  I thought I was satisfied until, out of curiousity, I decided to buy myself a small grinder and just buy the beans whole every week.  I popped the beans in an airtight container and into the freezer, and only take out enough for a single use.  OH EMM GEE... the difference is unbelievable.  Suddenly there's too much cream in my coffee!  I could drink this stuff straight, no chaser.  There isn't an ounce of bitterness or bite.  Amazing.  I don't even want to think about what buying actual high quality coffee beans would do to me.  I'm already having sexual thoughts just sipping this stuff.  Juan Valdez is suddenly a really hot looking man even if he isn't real.

Hey, a healthy fantasy life is a good thing.