Having a Hissyknit

Warning: Cologne is an effective deterent in the timeless war between Mother and Son.

2012-02-04T11:13:00.003-05:00

Round 5: The Cologne Offensive

"I don't want to go. You make me go and it's not fair." My underage combatant (Wesley) complained.

I was still tasting Elmer's Gluestick Clear Coat on my lips from our confrontation earlier this week. I was again rushing to get dressed to take Regan to her karate class when I felt Wesley enter the room.

In an amazingly quick move that surprised even me, I grabbed the closest potential weapon--a bottle of Ralph Lauren Romance and whipped around (and without falling also--yea me). I spritzed at Wesley, covering him in an aromatic mist of designer cologne. As expected, he backed up like he was a lion and I had just hit him with a whip.

"Back, Sheba. Back." I waved the bottle menacingly toward Wesley who retreated faster than a politician at a news conference.

Wesley ran to his room and slammed the door. Not to be deterred, I covered his door and surrounding carpet with Ralph. Ralph Lauren was my holy water and Wesley was not getting away. I wasn't thinking of Wesley's eventual revenge or future emotional trauma.

Yes, I know what everyone who reads this thinking--I am a horrible mother. Be comforted by the thought that I no longer have any cologne and have resorted to using Febreeze Fabric Softener in Lilac as my signature scent.

Warning: If your child wants to help you after a huge fight, don't trust him.

2012-02-03T17:54:00.001-05:00

Wesley Wars: Episode Four

Still smarting from this summer's lawn mower strike, the forced decommissioning of his slingshot (aka my bra) and the Hello Kitty Sock wearing incident, the battle continues.

A few highlights of the past few weeks:

Wesley: You are here to ruin my life.
Me: I'm glad I met my goal.

Wesley: You are the meanest person in the whole world.
Me: Thanks. I've worked hard to become so.

Me: Feed the dog please. It's your turn.
Wesley: You had me so I would have to work ALL the time.
Me: Well, I need a refund because you, uh, don't work all the time.

Wesley: You feed me this junk [meatloaf and mashed potatoes] and it's icky.
Me: Choice B is fried liver and onions.

Wesley: Why can't I stay over at Logan's [his best buddy] all the time?
Me: Because the police told me I couldn't lose you anymore.

Wesley: You can't force me to go to school.
Me: Well, yes. Yes I can.

This last loving interaction was this week as we frantically was getting ready for school. Dave was out of town so I made breakfast (which according to Wesley, all the food was again, junk--come up with new adjectives, Boy). Wesley brought my purse to me and handed me my chapstick. I throw it on and tell him too look for my eyeliner as I was trying to put on my watch. He digs around and hands it to me.

As I start the first swipe, I realize my vengeful son handed me a black permanent Sharpie. Apparently I looked angry in clownish, one black eye sort of way because he dropped the purse and ran. I tried to yell at him only to find that the little @$# % head had handed me a glue stick instead of chapstick and my lips were sticking together.

Okay so Round Four goes to the Ten Year Old Hooligan.

Snowman Book

2012-01-26T18:35:00.005-05:00

I've been a para and teacher for about 4 years now in Pre-K and kindergarten. I have had more fun dancing and singing with the kids than the kids do. Looking back, I'm sure it's torture for the kids to listen to my wildly off-key singing and horrible dancing. But I came up with a poem/song/book thingee that might help other teachers. We used it for a following directions page and recall.

The title is "I'm a Little Snowman" to the tune "I'm a Little Teapot.

I'm a little snowman

Short and fat

Here is my scarf

And here is my hat

See my carrot nose

And three buttons too

A happy smile

And eyes so blue

The Title Page

First Page

Second Page

Third Page

Fourth Page

Five Page

Sixth Page

Seventh Page

Warning: There are no mental health therapists for Pterodactyls

2012-01-10T17:55:00.001-05:00

Poor, poor Bob the Pterodactyl. Regan has been abusing this beanie baby for years. He's been shot out of a bra, thrown across the car to land in garlic knots, stuffed in an underwear drawer and other situations. Yet, he remains loyal to Regan and sleeps with her every night.

I have found Bob in a variety of places and every once in a while you have to bow to the absurd and take a picture of it. So it is with appreciation (especially from the dog who escapes Regan's machinations because of Bob's presence) I present a short pictorial history of Bob:

This is Bob dressed in beer koozie from Hawaii. When I asked Regan why her stuffed animal was "dressed", she replied that he didn't want to be naked.

This is an early picture of Bob. He got mixed up with Regan's bedding in the washer. Bob should have applied for a restraining order then.

Bob on ice. This was about two weeks ago. Regan said he was having hot flashes like me.

This was about two years ago around Thanksgiving. Bob was starving according to Regan and he didn't fit into a chair.

Lastly, I believe this was a desperate attempt to run away this past Christmas. I can't go to sleep sometimes because the horrified look in Bob's eyes haunts me.

If anyone can figure out how to add extinct dinosaurs to an insurance plan, please let me know. I think I owe him a few sessions in therapy if not a beer to fill his dress/koozie.

New Scarf Pattern

2012-01-04T14:09:00.005-05:00

Despite all my whining about my kids and how I have no time, I still knit. Dave needed a new scarf so I used 3 different colors of Lion Brand Home Town (Off White, Blue and Green). It's rather bulky and because of this, it didn't show a lot of stitch definition so I modified it. It looked pretty good. It's knitted in almost a block formation.

Cast on 15 using color A.
Row 1: K5 P5 K5
Row 2: Knit all
Repeat these two rows until you have knitted about 8 inches.

Change to color B.
Row 1: K4 P7 K4
Row 2: Knit all
Repeat these two rows until you have knitted about 8 inches

Change to color C
Row 1: K3 P9 K3
Row 2: Knit all
Repeat these two rows until you have knitted about 16 inches

Change to color B
Row 1: K4 P7 K4
Row 2: Knit all
Repeat these two rows until you have knitted about 8 inches

Change to color A
Row 1: K5 P5 K5
Row 2: Knit all
Repeat these two rows until you have knitted about 8 inches.

Bind off.

Shameless Pitch

2012-01-03T08:30:00.001-05:00

If you have a Kindle (which I love mine) from Amazon, I've signed up with Kindle blogs. For a mere .99 cents a month, you can download my rantings straight on your e-reader. Please do it--I need the money for chocolate.

I'm a mean, mean, mean person.

2011-12-31T18:50:00.002-05:00

Zack has developed a hot spot (see this Warning). And while I am not surprised that he has taken up a nervous habit, I had hoped the vet could prescribe some sort of medication or a lobotomy--whichever is cheapest.

We had to put a halo collar on him this week to prevent him from making the spot worse. Dave and I--well mostly me--have had a wonderful time telling people different reasons why Zack has this on.

A few of our favorites are:

Zack misread the instructions on his new umbrella
Zack has decided to be Elizabethean Collie
Dave wants all access to college football games on cable but refuses to pay for it.
A new invention: The Catch All Bowl. A portable way to make sure NO food thrown your way goes to waste. Act now and you'll receive two Catch All Bowls. Just pay S & H.
Zack is the Catholic Church's newest saint but they ran out of halos.
A emergency braking system for my car. Just let Zack hang out the window and viola, instant stops
The sunflower in the new school performance of "Chicken Little"
The new sun-tanning sensation
A standing water basin designed specifically for chipmunks

Please feel free to add your interpretation of Zack and his new collar.

Happy New Year

2011-12-30T17:14:00.003-05:00

Have a safe and hangover-free New Year! There will be no drinking from me since I know that wine causes pregnancy.

Merry Christmas!!

2011-12-23T10:55:00.000-05:00

In anticipation of future hospital visits (Regan wants a karate training room and Wesley is asking for an archery set), I thought I'd wish everyone an early and take your pick depending on your culture or views,

**Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday, Jesus**

**Happy Hannukah**

**Safe and wonderful Kwanzaa**

**Joyous Festivus**

**Happy Cat Herding Day (12/15) for all the parents or people in charge of impossible tasks. Sorry I missed your special day**

Warning: I'm about to become famous.

2011-12-17T09:05:00.001-05:00

One day into Christmas vacation, Wesley and Regan are sent to their rooms because of bickering over--get this--who gets to move the Advent Calendar today. A mere seventeen minutes of Christmas peace before Wesley and Regan began their daily arguments. To add insult to injury, I tell them to clean up their rooms since Wesley's Star Wars figurines and accoutrements make him look like a candidate for the hoarder reality show. Regan’s stuffed animal collection (now hovering around 152 minions) are spilling out into the pantry. One poor dragon met an untimely death in a boiling pot of pasta.

"You are the worst Mommy in the World." Wesley wails and crosses his arms for dramatic effect.

Regan, not to be outdone by the King of Melodrama, announces that she would like to be traded to another family. For a moment I envisioned a Major League type swap. For a future draft pick to be named later? For money? With the stomping of feet, she heads to her room to sulk or set up therapy appointments with Dr. Phil via a toy cell phone.

"You are ruining my life." Wesley interjects. "I will not clean up my room. I do not like this. And I do not like you right now. I'm calling DFCS {Department of Family and Children Services which is the child protection agancy in Georgia} and tell them you are ruining my life."

So when I get the the nomination for the Worst Mommy in the World Award for my anger-filled performance in "Ruining Wesley's Life", my fame will spread to all the world. I can just see myself accepting the bad mommy award in prison orange pantsuit via satellite hook up.

I'm off to practice my acceptance speech. "I owe it all to the Advent Calendar and for inspiration for my role, my two former children."

Warning: Parents say things they never thought they say.

2011-12-04T13:51:00.001-05:00

I used to think my mom was sometimes a bit strange. Now I know that her children drove her to Strange-ville. I always thought I would be the "cool" parent. The one the kids go to when they want to have fun. Geez, was I off! Dave and I actually are the parents the neighborhood children whisper about on Halloween. Well, me actually since Dave is sometimes a big kid himself.

Picture one of the neighborhood children whispering covertly. "You know, Bobby once went over to Wesley's to play and he came back with his hair combed." Or "Regan's mom is weird. She told us to jump on their bed."

So this is dedication with love and a great deal of guilt to my mom. These are actual rantings.

"Wesley, get your train out of the toilet."

"If someone does not pick up these toenails, you won't like it if I do."

"Zack, drop that dead chipmunk right now."

"Dave, quit being Diaper Head."

"Regan, your dragon is clogging the shower."

"My lipstick does not belong on the grill."

"Please pick up your Lego shirt."

"How are we going to get the salsa off the ceiling?"

"Yes, Build-A-Bear. What do you recommend to clean pee off one of your animals?"

"For the last time, my bed is not a mixing bowl. Get the beans off."

"I do see it but Regan, you should keep the unicorn out of the microwave."

"Who mixed my Dr. Pepper with the ranch dressing?"

"Why are you pouring hydrogen peroxide on the deck?"

"Get the toilet paper out of your shirt."

"You really need to get the reindeer out of the tree."

And lastly, my personal favorite! "Take that doll out of the dog's water bowl and get your Transformer out of the dog good bag."

Warning: Count Dooku and the Geeks are taking over the world.

2011-11-22T08:50:00.005-05:00

Wesley was reading "Brain Questions". Apparently, it is a kind of Jeopardy for kids.

Below are sample questions that Wesley read outloud trying to stump me.

Wesley: What monster did Count Dooku change into?
Me: Don't you mean Dracula? Dookou is a Star Wars character.
Wesley: Oh, yeah. Dacula
Me: No. Dracula. D-R-A-C-U-L-A. Dracula is a vampire.

Wesley: What was the name of Christopher Columbus' flagship?
Me: The Santa Maria
Wesley: Ha, ha. Tripped you up. It's the St. Mary.

Wesley: Which civilization was responsible for our system of numerals? The Aarons, Chinese or the Geeks?
Me: Those silly Arabic geeks.

Wesley: What kind simple machine is a crow bar or a liver?
Me: Don't you mean a "lever"?
Wesley: No, it's a liver.
Me: Honey, the liver is an organ inside your body. Look again. L-I-V-E-R is the organ. L-E-V-E-R

Wesley: Who settled at Pluto rock?
Me: The Klingons (I said this in a sarcastic voice)
Wesley: No. Gotcha. The Pilgrims

I let him have it. After all, who can compete with Count Dooku and the Dark Side.

Warning: Trying to pick up a date at a Red Box outside Kroger is not a good idea.

2011-11-12T13:26:00.002-05:00

There are several warnings in this post. It is an open letter to that gross looking guy who provided the inspiration for this warning.

1. Trying to pick up a date at a Red Box outside Kroger is not a good idea. Really, seriously? Just because I'm leaning against a vending machine does not constitute an invitation to coffee. I was just waiting for my hubby. There's a boatload of better pickup lines and venues than saying, "Do you use this machine often? Why don't we go over to the Steak and Shake and talk?"

2. If you feel the desperate need for companionship, visit the Dollar Tree store to buy some bifocals and hearing aid batteries. Wesley and Regan were with me although I did try to shake them in the floral department at Kroger. If an aging chubby redhead with two loud bickering children does not deter you, perhaps you need some mental health therapy or at least a 1-900 number to relieve your needs.

3. When I ~~smiled~~ smirked and rolled my eyes at you, I was being polite. I am no Red Box technician but when a sign is posted across the machine that says, "Not in Service", talking to it and asking me for a refund is well, a bit odd.

4. Calling your children the "goons" is a good indicator of that person being sort of mean. Come on...any person worth their salt should recognize that. And you still continue to ask that mean person (me) out. Again, you need therapy, bifocals and a business card for Busty Gals of the World 900 line.

5. Lastly, telling you "Go Away" (I used much stronger language) should make you go away. Finally you left after realizing the noises emanating from the broken Red Box machine was actually Wesley making rude bodily noises in an attempt to repel Regan.

I hope you have better luck at Blockbuster.

Warning: Slingshooting beanie babies does not produce the same result as a Looney Tunes slingshot.

2011-10-20T10:39:00.005-04:00

It's fall break and my delinquents are out of school. It's not been too bad except for:

*a disastrous attempt at Rice Krispie treats
*a minor medical emergency involving Zack and aforementioned Rice Krispie treats
*another medical emergency involving Zack and a wasp
*a frantic search looking for Bob the Pterodactyl
*Regan and Wesley pushing each other in Target over a disagreement involving salt and pepper shakers
*a vain attempt to deliberately stain a shirt for a Halloween costume
*another vain attempt to make reindeer antlers out of craft foam
*discovering I have bought 7 bottles of ranch dressing in an overzealous coupon spree
*packing bags for Wesley and Regan's Scout camping trip with Dave. This also led to a yelling and foot stomping fit by Regan when I pulled out four stuffed animals from her bag.

Now, readers, it does seem like a lot for a week. But if you have read my blog, you'll understand (especially Kitten with a Whiplash) this is normal for my little corner of paradise.

The straw that broke the proverbial camel's back--or in my case, Bob the Pterodactyl--was the construction of a slingshot made from one of my bras. If I had known Bob was to be abused this way, I would have never found him hiding in Regan's sock drawer. Regan and Wesley decided to use the bra to propel Bob across the house.

By the time I stopped the revelry, one of the kitchen drawers were upended. Zack was cowering in the basement, frantically trying to chew off the bandage covering the wasp sting. The mantle of the fireplace had been rearranged to become a target. Wesley was spitting out commands like a four-star general to make sure Bob would land on the mantle in one piece. Regan was soothing Cutie Pie (another stuffed animal) because she was next in line to be shot.

"Mean. You're just plain mean." Wesley accused me. "We're not fighting now and we're having fun. Blah, blah, blah." I tuned him out until he said, "You're not the boss of me. And I've got rights." Honestly, that kid is going to be a major crime figure in the near future and so he continues, "Someday, you're gonna miss us fighting with each other." He will not be a psychic for the police force.

I not so quietly remind him that I am indeed the boss of him and if he could name five of the Bill of Rights, I'll let him continue playing. He named two (religious freedom and right to bear arms). He tried to slide in "Freedom to think" but I nixed it.

"Benjamin Franklin Pierce wrote it." My little scholar grunted. Too many MASH reruns.

Turning my attention to the girl, she lets Cutie Pie loose on the slingshot down the stairs. The poor dog (Zack) never stood a chance as Cutie Pie assaulted him in mid-bandage chew.I disassemble the sling shot and put it back into my drawer as Wesley puts on a pair of socks.

"I'm going outside," he announces with anger. I almost tell him that he put on Regan's Hello Kitty socks but remind myself that I love my children. I ~~love~~ like my children. I ~~like~~ tolerate my children.

Please remind me to look into military academies for Wesley and convents for Regan.

Warning: Pizza is the second leading cause of near automobile accidents.

2011-10-11T17:21:00.000-04:00

Cats are the first. But I digress.Dave is called away out of town and it falls to me to feed the kids (BONUS Warning: If you feed kids, they will never go away). Feeling lazy and not at all like June Cleaver, I call in an order to the local pizza parlor. I am in way disparging June. It had been a long day and I was tired. We get a large, gooey cheese pizza and an order of garlic knots. Garlic knots are these magical wonderful bits of homemade bread drenched in garlic and butter. They are my weakness and I would do just about anything to eat them.

We're pulling into the driveway when Wesley lets loose a high pitched scream that I swear, could break wine glasses. Apparently, Regan breathed on him and he was infected with Regan Cooties. According to Wesley, this is a terminal disease and it required immediate action. Not medical attention but retribution. He grabs Bob, Regan's stuffed pterodactyl, and throws it at my head. Regan begins to karate kick her brother who is continuing throwing her stuffed animals into the front seat.Instead of stopping the car and calmly talk to my kids, I grab Bob who has fallen down my shirt--the pervert and toss it back to Regan. Then in a horrifying minute, the garlic knots begin to slide out of the box. I made a split second decision to save the garlic knots and let the kids fend for themselves. After all, we have health insurance in case of serious injury and we have met our deductible for the year.Then BAM!!!. The passenger side mirror hits the side of the garage. I stop instantly. By the time I threw the car in park, both kids have mysteriously disappeared into the house. The damage is minimal. The mirror is fine as well as the garage. The only remnant was Bob the Pterodactyl who was an innocent pawn in the fight.So the lesson, readers, is not that inattention while driving is bad (it is) or that Regan needs to cull her stuffed animal posse (she does) or that Wesley overreacts (he does). No, the lesson of the day is garlic knots are worth any price to a hungry mother.

Warning: If your son compares your hair color to condiments, it's time to padlock the pantry.

2011-09-11T19:47:00.001-04:00

When Wesley compared my hair color to Regan's ranch dressing, I knew it was time for touch up.

I'm all about saving money. My last professional hair color job was about four years ago and cost around $80. So in an effort to save some dough, I started dyeing my hair by myself.

I've tried them all--Revlon, Clairol, Loreal, Henna. There was also a disastrous
incident with peroxide and lemon juice when I was 15 but that's ancient history.

So Loreal has come out with a "Sublime Mousse" line. I chose Spicy Auburn Brown because that looked like it was the closest to my natural hair color (Not the Peroxide/Lemon Juice color). I did have problems applying the stuff. The mousse went everywhere including but not limited to:

*the bathroom ceiling
*a small fingerprint on Dave's toothbrush (I replaced it)
*my Scooby Doo socks
*Zack's tail
*the water bill

After 30 minutes, the color was rinsed. I walk into the living room to see Wesley dig around the cabinets looking for ketchup. He pulls out a bottle of Kraft BBQ sauce and said, quite innocently, "Mom, now your hair and the sauce are the same color."

Smart aleck kid--who was still smarting from the lawn mowing strike this past summer.

All I could say was, "Ha, Ha." Not original but I was still stinging from his comments.

But to his credit, he was quick with a comeback. "Let's try for Cheeze Whiz next time."

Little guttersnipe

September 11, 2011

2011-09-11T09:10:00.003-04:00

God bless all the victims and their families. May He bring comfort to them.

God bless all fallen and living heroes. May He keep them safe and secure.

God bless all Americans. May we never forget.

Warning: "Betta fish killers should be punished," states Regan

2011-08-13T15:16:00.006-04:00

I'm a killer. Now I don't mean to be but according to my daughter, that's no excuse. Under some obscure law in Georgia, I deserve to spend time in "solitaire confussment" (aka solitary confinement) because I accidentally left Darth Betta in my car overnight during a cold night in January earlier this year.

It really was an accident. I harbor no ill will toward fish--I don't even eat seafood. I wince when we go into Red Lobster (I'm there for the cheddar bay biscuits) and pass by the lobster tank. Granted my unease has nothing to do with the lobsters' impending death. I just hate seafood. Being forced to eat Mrs. Paul's Catch of the Day fishsticks every Friday for 13 years does that to you.

Well back to the crime of the century. I had a boatload of items in my hand and told myself that I would come back down to the garage to grab Darth. It was almost 24 hours later when Regan happened upon the corpse. Darth was deceptively dead. He looked like he was just hanging out. We shook him and then it happened. He floated to the top looking like an unfortunate squealer from the mob. I nixed the idea of calling 911 or calling the vet.

Instead of flushing the fish like 99.97% of world, Regan insisted we had to bury it. Military honors and prayers. I patted the grave with a trowel and that was the end.

Until today. Phrancis dug up Darth's grave. Maybe she is Frankenstein reincarnated or maybe she is just a ghoul. Regan saw the desecrated grave and promptly insisted upon my immediate punishment.

Please direct donations to my paypal account and mark it as "bail".

Warning: It is permissible to cross a picket line if the picketer is your child.

2011-07-18T11:39:00.009-04:00

Wesley is now 10 years old. Dave and I have been waiting for this moment for 11 years--ever since we found out we had a boy cooking in my belly. And what a sweet moment it was when Wesley ventured out and started pushing the lawn mower by himself.

Oh the joy! Oh the pride! Oh the sweet smell of freshly cut grass and weeds on a hot summer day in Georgia. Made especially nicer when you were not the mower!

It took one mowing of our front yard before Wesley demanded payment. Dave, as upper management in charge of exterior landscaping, offered $15 in a moment of weakness.

It took three mowings before Wesley went on strike--asking for $20 per job. Since I am chief financial officer, threw back another number--$12 per job but I would allow frequent water breaks under this new contract.

And then the National Organization of Chore Unionization started. Darn schools! They had teach him to add. In an unprecedented move toward sibling cooperation, Regan threw herself and all her 137 stuffed animals (yes you read that right 137 stuffed animals and I've picked all of them up at one time or another). Regan wanted compensation for being cute and giving good hugs.

I went back to Wesley at $15 per job partly because of Dave's impressive resistance to mowing anymore. Wesley agreed only because I started charging for meals, rent and washing. He quickly ran into the red and started suffering from Milky Way withdrawal. Regan was temporarily satisfied with a grilled cheese sandwich.

However, he said he will be back later in the year to start contract talks. Regan is now preparing her 137 minions how to picket.

Thank you Norma Rae.

The Martyrs of Compiegne

2011-07-16T18:24:00.004-04:00

Tomorrow is the feast day of the Sixteen Martyrs of Compiegne (France). Today is the feast day of Our Lady of Mount Carmel. I am presently in the discernment phase with the Lay Carmelites. The Carmelites are an order of Catholic nuns, priests and lay people. Our mission is to seek a closer relationship to God through prayer and the intercession of the Blessed Virgin, Our Lady of Mt. Carmel.

I was reading about Carmel saints several months ago while trying to decide if this was the path I was meant to follow. I came across these brave nuns who were beheaded in 1794 in the latter part of the Reign of Terror during the French Revolution. They were murdered because they refused to stop living their vocation of prayer and service.

Now, God sometimes has to hit me on the head with a newspaper because well, sometimes, I don't listen. Not only did this story of courage speak to me, July 17 is my late father's birthday. So I took God's hint and decided to join the Lay Carmelite group in my church.

There is no particular reason why I am posting this. It has nothing to do with knitting or my wacky warnings. I guess I wanted to show God that I do follow His direction.

Warning: There is no suicide hotline for chipmunks

2011-07-07T19:11:00.004-04:00

Nervy little rodent or deeply depressed squirrel whannabe?

As I type this, there is a small chipmunk peering through the glass in my front door. I'm almost afraid for him. And the fear is not from our lazy cat, Phat Phrancis who, I notice, is lounging four feet from the chipmunk, slowly cleaning herself.

No, I'm afraid of what Zack the Collie will do to our door once he sees this intruder. Borrowing from Dr. Doofenschmirtz, there is a back story to Zack and chipmunks. I won't bore you with the details but once upon a time, Zack swallowed hole a baby chipmunk which he promptly threw back up. Poor hubby had dispose of the slimy animal. So, dear readers (and I am sorry if the details of Zack's food intake made you sick), I am sure you understand my anxiety.

Back to the present time. I don't know if the chipmunk wants to end its' life via through the jaws of a Collie or if the chipmunk equivalent of peer pressure is at work.

"Oh, come on, Fred! The dog is old and not as fast as he used to be. Oscar was asking for it when he got swallowed. I double dog dare you to ring the doorbell," says Petey the delinquent leader of the Chip's Crips. Petey smiles as he elbows other rodents.

And you know what? As Zack FINALLY spies his nemesis and is well on his way to a collision with double pane glass, I now officially don't care if the chipmunk makes it out alive. I just want an estimate on a new front door.

The Joke's on Yahoo.

2011-07-01T14:55:00.005-04:00

Okay, Yahoo is under the impression that I am a writer. They've published two of my articles. Here is the link for the latest entry. The more people visit, the more I get paid which is ssssoooo nice since teacher pay is being cut again.

Warning: Daughter + Toothless Mask + Cowboy Hat = Tylenol

2011-06-25T19:23:00.003-04:00

Please make sure you take the recommended dosage for headache medicine followed by a long swig of Dr. Pepper and Tums.

Warning: A 7 year old girl should never wear six different colognes at the same time.

2011-05-07T15:28:00.003-04:00

Question: How many showers does it take to remove the stench of 6 colognes?

Answer: Not three or four or five.

Regan, Regan, Regan. My beautiful girl was watching Justin Bieber (aka the "Squirrel") or was it Big Time Rush? I readily admit my shortcomings as a mother who was more worried about a ninety pound dog trying to eat a snake (another warning for another time) than monitoring the show my daughter was watching.

I caught a whiff of a familiar scent while pulling Zack back into the house. Was that my Amazing Grace cologne? Then another breezed by. Now I know that was my Tocca Colette scent. When the third, fourth, fifth and six whafted by (and in no particular order: In Bloom, Clinque Happy, Chloe, and D&G The One), I knew something or someone had been in my room.

I ruled out the dog and other male family members since Dave and Wes were at a Scout Pack Meeting.

Regan was dancing around my bed to a BTR or Squirrel Song in a perfumed haze.

I immediately tried to take a breath but choked. I managed to grab Regan before she applied my lavender foot cream.

"Regan," I started.

"Don't you love it? London wears perfume." Regan smiled

"London? As in the city?"

"Mom," Regan rolled her eyes and I spied my Clinque eyeshadow on her eyelid. "London on TV." Apparently, my repertoire of 'tween TV characters suck and my daughter was not afraid to let me know.

"Get in the shower and hose off." I ordered.

I felt a little better when Regan aquiesced somewhat docilely. Then I caught her sing, "Baby, Baby" by the Squirrel as Zack took off with my lavender foot cream and his rubber chicken.

Warning: I always win in a Mexican Standoff.

2011-03-10T16:09:00.005-05:00

In the ten or so years of living in the middle of the woods, we've only one invasion of a field mouse. That is until a week ago. Minding my own business and insulting the local weather person for a bad forecast, I spied a little rodent scurrying from my kitchen to our TV cabinet. At first I was angry--how dare that mouse watch our cable television without paying his fair share. Then I realized I was transferring my anger at Wesley recording his Transformers cartoon over my Supernatural episode to the poor mouse.

Nonetheless, it had to go. I stocked up on humane mouse traps from the "maze trap" to the sticky Mouse Hotel. I place them in various mouse hot spots.

Three days go by and no Mickey. We come home from school and lo and behold, Wesley sees the mouse in the middle of our hall. We all freeze including the dog. I whisper to Wesley to get the cat.

Tangent here: Yes we have a cat but she is an outdoor cat who catches various animals from time to time including moles, chipmunks and three snakes (a dead snake made onto the top of my car but that's another story). Phat Phrancis does not do well indoors--she teases Zack and quite frankly, is more of a pest than any rodent. Maybe Phat Phrancis only does reptile extermination in the house. I don't know but she is totally useless in this situation.

Phrancis prances down the hallway and comes within a foot of the mouse. She twitches her tail and leaves (the cat twitches, not the mouse). Apparently the mouse is either a)inbred and does not know that a cat is a mouse's enemy or b)is completely blind and has no sense of smell or c)got into the wine cabinet and is so intoxicated it blew the Mouse Breathalizer.

I smudge a bit of peanut butter inside an old coffee can and ask Wesley to bring my trowel so I can shove the mouse inside completely once it goes in.

Tangent #2: If that mouse escaped and made it into Regan's room, Regan would never sleep in there again. If it made it into Wesley's room, the mouse would sue us for unsanitary conditions. If got to our bedroom, I'd stay awake all night fuming about the mouse's cable theft.

It goes into the can and here comes Wesley with a six foot post hole digger. The mouse was released into the woods and warned never to come back or else be billed for cable.

Warning: Never let your children watch "House" episodes.

2011-02-04T20:22:00.003-05:00

Never let your children watch "House" episodes.

Dave is a fan of the TV show "House". He used to record it on the DVR but Wesley watched a few minutes of one of the episodes before I caught him out of bed (it was 9:30 p.m.)

The next day I get a visit from the school nurse. Wesley is in her office and has self-diagnosed himself as having a Vitamin K deficiency. He has no symptoms except that he can't concentrate on an upcoming test because of this. Nurse sends him back to class.

A few days later, Wes is again in the nurse's office during lunch. Dr. Wesley tells the nurse he has anorexia as he stuffs the last bit of garlic bread into his mouth. He is too tired to go on. The nurse asks if he knows what anorexia is and he replied that it is a bad case of snoring at night.

We've put the dvr on parential lockout. Wesley is now trying to find a disease on Ben 10 or Spiderman. If he thinks he can get out of school because he's sticking to the walls, he's got another thing coming.

The Shining.....Day 2

2011-01-11T18:41:00.003-05:00

We are snowed in here in Georgia. At first it was powdery and how cute it is we thought. Ray tried to sled down a hill but she weighed too little (how I wish I had the problem) so I ended up pulling her like a Budweiser Clydesdale.

This morning we woke to a slick sheen of ice that covered the snow. Zack the Collie raced down the deck stairs only to try to use the bathroom while sliding across the backyard. He managed to create a Jackson Pollack painting using nothing but snow, hair and well, pee.

So I leave y'all with a line(s)from another winter horror story....

All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.

Warning: Never, ever make the blue jean fairy mad at you.

2011-01-06T19:42:00.007-05:00

Never, ever make the blue jean fairy mad at you.

Recently the school that I teach at allowed the staff to wear blue jeans all week. Normally, I'd jump on that like a chocolate eclair but my poor deflated balloon belly has expanded. And I don't mean just a tiny bit. The last time an expansion like this was seen was during the Lousiana Purchase.

Well, because of this growth, I'm unable to fit into most of my blue jeans. I am down to five pairs of jeans--all in varying stages of wear.

Monday: I pull out of the garage and hear a large POP. Wesley jumps out of V-ger (for those who don't know about V-ger, it is my beautiful silver Dodge Avenger) and tells me that I ran over a can of green spray paint. I look at him and Wesley immediately denies using and leaving the can out. I get out and am drenched in Krylon Hunter Green. V-ger and Wesley escape unpainted. Adios Blue Jeans #1.

Tuesday: I bend over to tie one of my student's shoes when another POP. The button of Blue Jeans #2 shoots out and beans my student in the head. The resulting fit causes half the school to poke their heads out their doors just in time to see me hold my pants up in hand and the student in the other. Bon jour, Blue Jeans #2

Wednesday: It's pajama day. Although I am wearing my new pajamas, one of my students take delight in pulling the waist string to test its' strength. The string lasted an hour. I pull my emergency blue jeans out only to discover a huge rip down the backside. For a moment I consider wearing it but in the end, I staple the pajamas together and stay away from the children. Ciao, Blue Jeans #3.

Thursday: Cleaning a classroom is a full time job--especially during outbreaks of strep, flu, measles, colds and pink eye. And I excel at wiping down Legos, tables and children. Apparently keeping my jeans away from the bleach cleaner is also a full time job but I suck at it. Blue jeans #4 is now dotted with bleach down my right leg. Sayanora, Blue Jeans #4.

Friday: Blue Jeans #5 is my last pair. This pair manages to stay together all day but only because it was hot glued at the zipper. Aloha, Blue Jeans #5

Personally I don't think there is a blue jean fairy but a mad conspiracy by clothing companies to drive me insane.

Warning: Feeding eggs to your dog will result in "egg butt".

2010-12-29T19:09:00.004-05:00

Feeding eggs to your dog will result in "egg butt".

Zack, our goofy yet lovable Collie, has wolfed down some scrambled eggs about 20 minutes ago. Not that I mind--I managed to snag the bacon before he pounced.

What happens now should go down in the Geneva Convention rules for humane treatment of prisoners. Yes, the dog has such powerful gas that is responsible for global warming. Stop the presses, we have a new renewable energy source except that, we need gas masks whenever we get within two feet of Zack.

It amazes me that Zack shows no reaction, gagging or fainting when the smell hits. Personally, I claw at my throat and frantically search for the air masks to fly down from the ceiling. It is too late when I realize that I'm not on a plane and I manage to scramble outside.

Zack follows and I swear I see some squirrels with gas masks on. Nervy little buggers.

'Twas the Day after Christmas

2010-12-26T11:54:00.002-05:00

'Twas the day after Christmas
And all through my head
Came the pounding of light sabers
and children demanding to be fed.

With the hubby gone to his Sunday job
and here I am stuck with the kids and the dog
I slipped and fell on a stray green lego
and yelled until I was as hoards as a frog.

Finally the noise has subsided
and the dog stopped the howling doom
I just hope I can stay until New Year's
as a guest of the mental hospital's padded room.

Wow!

2010-12-23T22:02:00.002-05:00

It's been almost one and a half years since I last posted. I apologize from the bottom of my very busy heart.

Let's see what has happened in that time....

1. No longer a social worker. Family circumstances changed so I changed careers. With a prayer in my heart and Dr. Pepper at my side, I took and passed the GACE (the teacher certification exam in Georgia). I am now an elementary school teacher! So many little minds to confuse and so little time!!!

2. Our beloved Aussie, Zoe, passed in February. She was 15 years old and arthritis had gotten the best of her. She no longer could terrorize the Collie, Zack. Dave and I made one of the most difficult decisions and had her put to sleep. We were with her when she died.

3. Wesley is in 4th grade and Ray is in 2nd. Neither has been arrested or charged with a crime. Both are doing wonderful both in school and in church. Both bicker to the point that I have to dye my hair every month to cover the stress-induced gray.

4. Dave is still on the local school board and is working for a local company. He still is the love of my life and my rock.

5. I have suffered no broken bones or any major medical trauma. For those who do not know, I am Queen Grace-less the Klutz. Any year we do not meet our out of pocket for insurance is a good year.

6. I still knit and bake. This past week, I've baked doggie treats for a Christmas present to our parish priest's dog. Zack was taste tester and seems to like them. I told him not to get used to weekly homemade treats. He replied with a belch and a snort.

Anyway, I will try my best to post weekly. I hope to hear from y'all.

Have a safe and Merry Christmas!!!

Warning 7/12/09

2009-07-11T16:43:00.000-04:00

Never list your dog as one of your children in the newspaper.

I was rearranging Regan's baby book at a doctor's appointment when a passing acquaintance picked up the birth announcement from six years ago.

"Dave and Christy joyfully announce the birth of their daughter, Regan. Regan joins siblings Wesley age 2 and Zoe age 8." The person I barely know reads. "That's sweet."

Then the person cocks their head. "I didn't know you had Zoe."

As I attempted to extricate my fingers from the double sided tape I was using, I crankily answered, "Yeah, well, what can I do with the evil idiot? Once we adopted her, she really turned out to be a total witch. She's won't stop licking our toes and she's got really bad gas. If I have to clean up her messes one more time, she's going to live outside."

When I looked up from the tape, the acquaintance looked like she was having a heart attack. "I don't believe you." She gasped. "How could you adopt a kid with an attitude like that and you a social worker!"

It was then I realized they thought Zoe was human and not the totally meglo-maniacal Australian Shepherd. I tried to correct her error but she hurried off, aghast at my insensitivity.

I'm expecting a call from Child Protective Services soon.

I'm bbbbaaaccckkkk!

2009-07-06T18:23:00.002-04:00

Yes, I'm back in the saddle again.

So much has changed over the last six months. I am now a certified elementary school teacher. I start the new school year in about 3 weeks and will be assigned to a Pre-Kindergarten class in my county's school district.

Very sad about leaving the Tree House but a mom's gotta do what a mom's gotta do. That includes insurance for family.

Please stay tuned. To celebrate my return from the Great Beyond (or at least the neighboring county), I'm going to be doing a yarn contest.

Good-bye!

2009-02-12T13:19:00.004-05:00

It's with a heavy heart that I'm discontinuing this blog for awhile. My job, kids, volunteering, knitting, and other commitments have begun to overwhelm me. I won't delete Hissyknit but this is my last post until my life gets back to normal--whatever that is.

I've had fun doing this and I wish all of you reading Hissyknit well.

Weekly Warning 2/8/09

2009-02-08T08:17:00.003-05:00

Replace broken lids as soon as possible.

Dave broke the cover to our sugar bowl a couple of weeks ago.

Since then, I have poured coffee into the sugar bowl. I have caught Regan licking the sugar out of the bowl. Zack the Collie had a suspicious white dusting across his snout. I don't think it's cocaine but rather Splenda. My newly picked flowers have sugar inside after Wesley sneezed in the kitchen near the sugar bowl. Not to be outdone, I hit the sugar spoon with a wet sponge which caused the spoon to flip the sugar which landed in my hair. Wet suger plus hair equals concrete.

I've bought more sugar and Splenda in the last month to finance a small third world country. So I am going to bite the bullet and buy a new sugar bowl complete with top so Zack will not have to go sugar-rehab.

Weekly Warning 1/31/09

2009-01-31T06:52:00.001-05:00

Wear a pair of non-hole-y underwear while vacuuming your car.

Dear People Who Own the Vacuum at the Service Station,

Please find enclosed several bills:

The first bill is for $34.95. This is to replace my pants as the hole in your vacuum hose sucked my pants off my leg.

The second bill is $1.09. This is to replace the Diet Dr. Pepper your hose sucked up and then threw up on my black leather boots.

The next bill is for $54.99. Cost of replacement to aforementioned boots.

The fourth bill is for $65.00. Cost of steam cleaning my brand new car’s carpet to remove regurgitated Dr. Pepper.

The last is for $15925.00. This is the cost of relocation across the country to head off any embarrassment suffered by me on account of your monster vacuum and your insensitive employees.

Please note that I know that adults should not wear Scooby Doo underwear in case something like this happens but this does negate the fact that your vacuum cleaners are destructive.

Pantlessly yours,
Christy

Weekly Warning 1/25/09

2009-01-24T08:39:00.002-05:00

Everything changes but everything stays the same.

Wesley was singing "Figure 8". You know, from Schoolhouse Rock from the '70s. "Figure 8 is really great..." (My personal favorite is "The Shot Heard 'Round the World".) I was so excited to find out that Wesley's school was using these educational classics.

Dave even dug up our old VHS tapes so Wesley could listen to them. I started reminiscing on how some of them really helped me pass some tests. Remember the Preamble song? We, the People, in order to form a more perfect union.... Saved my butt in a college Civics exam. "Really, Wes," I started waxing poetically, "it'll help you in history, math, grammar and more! I'm glad your teacher uses them."

Wesley, very innocently, tells me his core teacher (the one who teaches reading, writing and more) doesn't use them but his music teacher does--as an example of a chorus.

I guess it shouldn't matter where he learns US expansion in the 1800's. It could be by book or maybe by learning "Elbow Room". I just shut up, be grateful and hum "Conjunction Junction".

Give me a Sed-a-give

2009-01-19T09:00:00.005-05:00

My new project was the Sunday Market Shawl from Knit Fish. It's free from her site. Beautiful pattern but at the end you drop stitches. I was shaking like a leaf and seriously needed some wine before I did it.

I used a totally different yarn than what she used. I'm desperately trying to use up my stash before it consumes my basement. The yarn I'm using is Berroco Cotton Twist in Morandi Mix colorway (about 4 skeins). This yarn is 70% cotton with 30% rayon. It has a gorgeous sheen to it but it's splitty.

While I was knitting it.

Finished shawl.

FYI, the title is from "Young Frankenstein" if you didn't catch the reference. If you have not seen it, please drop everything and go buy it.

Weekly Warning 1/18/09

2009-01-17T06:21:00.005-05:00

Before dressing your child as the Stay Puff Marshmallow Man, check their pocket for contraband.

It's cold. The inaccurate weather chick from our local news finally predicted something right. Friday morning saw 14 degrees with the wind putting it at 3.

Regan and Wes were very eager to show off their new parkas to their friends at school. For once, they displayed patience as I dressed them. By the time I was done, they could not put their back packs on so I did it for them.

When I helped Regan, I noticed a bulge on her side. I almost let it go. I mean I know she's not a Mafia hit kindergartner packing a gun but then I remembered, "It's Regan." A quick pat down discovered a Mylar balloon and kazoo left over from her cousin's part a week ago for show and tell. This caused a flurry of whining--mostly by me. Why would she bring a balloon in to school? How did she stuff up her shirt when I wasn't looking? Why does Mylar balloons have to last so long? Why does my husband conveniently disappear during these times?

Being a prudent parent and that Regan squealed, I checked Wesley. I discovered a packet of gummy bears, three pieces of gum, some mini Milky Way bars, his "Star Wars: The Clone Wars" dvd and two video game cartridges but no Nintendo DS game. He howled like he was just sentenced to life. He told me that I was infringing upon his rights. He's seven years old and blast that social studies curriculum for teaching the Constitution.

Despite the fact Wesley has two cavities and the kazoo would drive Ray's teacher crazy, they whined the whole long trip to school.

I swear I'm getting a blanket search warrant next winter. I also ate most of the evidence I seized from Wesley so he has no cause to appeal. I don't watch Law and Order for my health.

Charity Pitch

2009-01-14T12:05:00.005-05:00

I've been working social services for almost 15 years. I've worked at non-profits, government agencies, the courts, and more. I now work at the Tree House and it is now Raffle Time. For $10 a ticket, you are in the running for $10,000 in cold hard cash. Only 2500 tickets will be sold so you have a 1 in 2500 chance of winning. You do not have to be present to win nor a resident of Georgia. You do need to be over 18 years old to play.

Go here to buy a ticket and be sure to put "Christy" in the comment form. If I sell a certain amount, I get a paid day off.

I don't usually hawk stuff on my blog but the Tree House is an awesome non-profit. We provide a safe house for child victims of sexual and physical abuse to come and talk in a supportive environment. We also do child abuse prevention activities and more.

So please, please consider donating.

CB Wannabe Chicken Skillet

2009-01-11T17:17:00.005-05:00

I love eating at Cracker Barrel. They recently introduced a chicken dish that is absolutely fabulous. I tried to emulate it--it doesn't taste quite the same but it's close.

1 bag of Potatoes O'Brien, semi-defrosted (no huge frozen hunks--just very cold)
3-4 chicken breasts, diced and cooked (I boiled them until there was no pink)
2 cans cream of chicken soup
1 stick of butter melted
Minced garlic
Salt/Pepper
1/4 cup milk
1/2 cup sour cream
2 cups shredded cheese (I used fat free Cheddar but whatever floats your boat)
2 sleeves of Ritz crackers crushed

Mix the soup, butter, garlic, salt/pepper, milk, sour cream, and 1 cup of shredded cheese together. Add entire bag of Potatoes O'Brien and cooked chicken. Mix well and pour into a greased Pyrex dish. Bake at 350 for 45 minutes. Take it out and sprinkle Ritz cracker crumbs and remaining cheese over and return to over. Melt cheese and then serve.

You could add a veggie like Cracker Barrel does in a vain attempt to make it healthy. They add large chunks of broccoli. Which is convenient and makes it easy when I pick them out.

Weekly Warning 1/11/09

2009-01-10T10:35:00.001-05:00

Paint plus Cat equals CSI art.

Wesley is incredibly crafty. I mean in the arts crafty way not the sneaky way--not yet, he's only seven years old. He's at his happiest when he has a project going. He loves going out to his work bench and designing stuff. Who can forget last year's Mother's Day present? A bench for my garden that is six inches off the ground. Or maybe the "new and improved yarn winder". The five foot board with a nail on the bottom painted blue and green.

He was at it again. I was at work and Dave had the enviable task of watching Wesley and Regan. I drove up to see Wesley covered in red house paint and Francis the Fat Cat with a pink streak down her head. Trust me, Francis does not have a natural pink streak and Wesley usually does not resemble a pepperoni.

"Daddy said I could paint." Wesley called out cheerfully as he shook his paintbrush. The pink splatters were peppering my sidewalk. "So I was 'perminty." Translation: Experimenting.

I walked into my garage and almost screamed for Dave to call 911. A pink outline of a feline body was artistically arranged on the garage floor. It had streaks of blue zipping from the sides as if it illustrate electrocution.

Francis, it seems, was sleeping the sleep of the dead when Wesley used our leftover red door paint to paint around the cat. He was in the process of adding a white outline when Francis awoke to find herself in the middle of juvenile crime scene. Understandably she panicked and sent my junior Gus Grissom's scene into chaos.

And because it was house paint, Francis the Fat Pink Cat is forever memorialized on my garage floor.

A Hat for Me!

2009-01-07T18:08:00.005-05:00

From the pattern on Knitting School Dropout's, it's her Really Warm Hat. Knit with Twinkle Chunky in Dusty Pink, coincidentally it's the same yarn and color of my Victory Scarf so I actually have a matching hat and scarf. What an accomplishment for me!

Regan is doing her "Mater" face (from the movie Cars if you don't know who Tow Mater is)

I knit this booger (the hat, not Regan) up in one night while Dave made supper for the youthful offenders.

Weekly Warning 1/3/09

2009-01-03T06:54:00.002-05:00

Certain products should never be combined.

Common sense tells you that alcohol and Benedryl should not be taken together. Likewise you should never use your lighter to check for a natural gas leak. Or how about the clear warning that you should never operate heavy machinery while using Ambien?

Well, let's add my unintended coupling to the vast array of warnings.

Every night for the past twenty years, I've put Carmex on my lips before bed. Considering I leave my window open despite the weather, it is a prudent thing to do. Otherwise I'd wake up to chapped lips.

The strange Georgia weather is causing my skin to be wonky. I've developed a mouth ulcer bump on the side of my mouth. Nothing major--just enough to be annoying. I dab a bit of Ambesol Jr. on the bump.

And then it happened. I added my nightly ritual of Carmex. Carmex and Ambesol Jr. should never be mixed. Oh, it does not explode or even smoke. What it does do is completely numb your lips which makes you open and close your mouth to ward off the mix. I looked like a horrible example of a silicone lip injection gone bad.

And then you swallow. The numbness starts at the tip of your tongue and goes down your throat. Not pleasant. My husband thought it was funny when I told my kids to good night and it came out "Vooz Nig". Big weinie head. I told him to "Fuz Ug". Translation: Shut up.

So alert to the US Consumer Product Safety Board to issue yet another inane warning.

Potato Chip Scarf Ickiness

2008-12-31T09:24:00.007-05:00

I tried. I started a potato chip scarf and finished it. It's....well...it's trendy and my niece loves it. Binding off took one whole day. My hand is cramped and to be honest, I won't be doing it again. When you have to take Tylenol after knitting, it's not a good pattern for you.

Ray is modeling it. She is not actually hanging herself. It's her impersonation of a Vanna White model.

Wesley wanted to be in the picture but he didn't want to model the scarf so here he is with Ray.

Sweet pie kids? Well, most of the time but they're mine so I'll keep them.

Have a Safe and Hangover Free New Year!

2008-12-30T15:20:00.003-05:00

Mid-week Warning: Don't drink cheap wine from Walmart and then chase it with Zima!

Weekly Warning 12/28/08

2008-12-27T07:59:00.006-05:00

"Nothing says Merry Christmas like a headless Joseph and a giftless Magi."

Some highlights from a Hissyknit Christmas:

All I can say is "Thank God" the Nativity stable and resin statues are from Rite Aid. Wesley decapitated poor Joseph, Baby Jesus has a chip on his shoulder (literally) and one of the Magi is missing his gift. Regan put her Optimus Prime action figure on top because "he beat the angel". Miley Cyrus' tacky little coat from Ray's Hannah Montana doll covered the sheep.

Regan poured Diet Dr. Pepper in our tree's water basin because I said it looked droopy. A line of ants infiltrated the Star Trek "Q" ornament because he was too close to the basin of Dr. Pepper. Some omnipotent being--he didn't know ants were attracted to sugar.

During Christmas Eve Mass, our priest made the mistake of giving porcelain bells to my children to ring during a specific part of Mass. I'm sure the nervous tic above his eye isn't permanent.

Peppermint candy canes do not freshen a Collie's breath contrary to Zack's attempt to do so.

Vanilla foot lotion causes chapped feet as the Aussie licks off any application of it.

Smoked ham thrown on the floor during a fit is an effective way to cause Mommy to slip on her tailbone.

There's more but the glue between Joseph's head and torso is dried and Regan is finished coloring Jesus' shoulder with a Sharpie--it looks like a rather large birthmark or giant bug on Him. I'm off to get a head start on my New Year's Eve celebration.

PS--I wouldn't trade my Christmases for a million bucks.

Merry Christmas and all that jazz...

2008-12-23T15:16:00.003-05:00

I will be out of the loop for the next few days. But I wanted to wish everyone a safe and joyous Christmas (Hanukkah or Kwanzaa or Festivus or whatever holiday you celebrate.)

After Christmas, I'm sure to have new weekly warnings--after all, both kids are getting scooters, little magnetic toys, assorted action figures as well as enough chocolate to choke a chicken.

I'm off to bake Kolaches, sausage balls and Santa's chocolate chip cookies.

Weekly Warning 12/21/08

2008-12-20T11:28:00.005-05:00

Try to change the subject when discussing Santa's unmentionables.

It was a normal day. I was driving the kids to school and for once, Regan and Wesley were not bickering. I was singing Christmas carols off key.

Out of the blue, Wesley asks and I quote, "What kind of underwear does Santa wear?"

I immediately stopped warbling out "Silent Night" and froze like a possum caught in our backyard by an enormous Collie. Why did he ask? What did he ask? Why does he need to know?

Of course, Regan blurts out, "Why, Bubbie?"

In a strange logic, Wesley explained that he was worried about Santa getting a wedgie coming down our chimney. Our fireplace is not huge so I guess it was an appropriate question.

"Cause if he wears boxers, he'd really get wedgied." Wesley points out as Regan nods in agreement. "If he wears Ben Ten briefs, he could slide down easier but all the soot would make his underwear dirty. And bleaching Ben Ten makes it pink."

Wesley continues to enumerate the pros and cons of elf lingerie when I mutter under my breath, "I think he must wear a thong." (Insert ick factor--large older gentleman wearing a thong.)

Of course, Regan's keen hearing picks up Mommy's inside joke and ponders it. I knew she had no clue what a thong was but she says, "Yeah, a thong." Only, with her little speech lisp, it comes out "Bong". Santa smoking illegal substances is another thing I don't want to think about.

By this time, we arrive at the school and a very nice, very young, very new teacher opens the door for Regan who yells out, "SANTA USES A BONG."

So to dispell rumors, I laughingly tell the new teacher that I am just the carpool driver and I have no idea what those parents are teaching. Jeez, these parents today.

Weekly Warning 12/7/08

2008-12-07T13:36:00.006-05:00

Bind your children in straight jackets when shopping in a jam shop.

My mother loves preserves and jams. Every Christmas I mail her a couple of jars from the Stone Mountain Pecan Company down the road from my house. Every year I get threatened with a restraining order because my children accompany me when I buy the jellies.

My mere $19.97 bill triples because Regan decides to open two packages of chocolate covered cherries and Wesley manhandles the pralines. Or they bicker over whether or not Mother prefers the pecan peach butter or the blackberry preserves. This usually ends in a glob of jelly and broken glass on the floor because Regan pushes Wesley into the barrel of fruit cake which causes a domino effect onto the jelly.

Next year Mother is getting flowers.

Weekly Warning 11/30/08

2008-11-29T10:40:00.005-05:00

Always check for horns and forked tongue when asking for directions from a state park employee.

It's a beautiful fall season here in north Georgia. The leaves are brilliant colors. You come over a mountain and it looks like one large beach bonfire--oranges, reds, and even some blue.

We decided to visit one of the state parks of Georgia. Amicalola Falls is a jewel in the North Georgia Mountains. There is a incredibly amazing water fall that you can hike up to--it's a about a mile up a mountain on a paved trail. Well worth the effort. We passed dozens of folks who had the same idea.

You would think coming down the mountain would be easier and it would be to if you are not me. A seemingly helpful park employee named Esther told us of another paved trail. She said it was a little longer but much more secluded--away from those pesky tourists (apparently missing Wesley wearing his "Are we there yet?" Florida tourist tee).

Off we went--all eight of us--my kids included as well as Uncle Al wearing flip flops. Sure the snake slithering across our path one hundred yards later should have detered us. But Esther had been helpful and she was still waving at us. Little did I know, she was just making sure we ended in the seventh layer of hell as a sacrifice to her master.

You would have thought the dead chipmunk would have sent us scurrying back to Esther but no, we were braver than that. And I'm not sure, but I think the forest closed up on itself like an evil entity. The trail all but disappeared. The trees leaned in, using their branches to block our efforts to retrace our steps.

Half way down the trail, the paved part stopped. Only because you had hold on to a rope to practically repel down the mountain. With Ray on my back like a chimpanzee baby, I gingerly climbed down and deposited Regan. Wes, the ever brave Cub Scout, made it down on his own.

After one hour of not seeing life (the birds had long since stopped chirping), we were heartened to hear cars and smell grilling hamburgers. We finally found our way back to our car, only to see Esther greeting new victims.

If I only had a vial of holy water....

Happy Thanksgiving!

2008-11-27T07:43:00.002-05:00

The top three things I'm thankful for:
1. My family. Dave is the biggest teddy bear and he's a an awesome guy. My kids, while future juvenile deliquents, are healthy and happy (especially when they are fighting with Nurf guns and light sabers). My dogs--Zoe, President of GPEC (Gas Producing Exporting Canine) and the Incredible Mini Pony, Zack, are wonderful.

2. My job. I have one of the best jobs in the world--helping parents adjust (not that anyone truly adjusts to being a parent) to their new baby.

3. My house. It may be full of large tufts of floating dog hair and not entirely dust-free, but it's my home.

I do hope you stuff yourselves! Have a safe and blessed Thanksgiving.

PS I know I missed this week's weekly warning but my left wrist was in brace (the warranty on my body has expired) so typing was impossible.

Weekly Warning 11/16/08

2008-11-15T14:42:00.002-05:00

People should not dress their dogs up to look like celebrities.

Minding my own business, I was startled to see a three foot tall Standard Poodle looping down the yard near the 911 Emergency Center. At first, I was a bit angry at the careless dog owner who allowed his/her dog loose in the road. Then I did a double take.

The poodle was attired in a Georgia Bulldog tee shirt and with a humongous 'do on top of her head. Imagine my amazement when I realized that the dog's hairdo was the same as Michelle Obama's hair. And despite the windy conditions, the dog's hair/fur stayed in place as if it was shellacked down. Why would someone deliberately style their dog's hair the same as Mrs. Obama? Or maybe Mrs. Obama styled her hair after the dog? I don't know but I put the dog and her do out of my mind.

THEN it rained that day and as I was going home, here comes Michelle the Poodle streaking again in front of my car. This time, the rain caused her hair to fall, making her look like Cher in "If I Could Turn Back Time" video while she straddled a gun. And if it wasn't bad enough, some evil human put a purple "Disco" shirt on the poor canine.

Immediately, I felt for the dog. If I had only brought some kibble, Mich-Cher and I could hit the road, raising money and schmoozing Navy personnel.

Weekly Warning 11/9/08

2008-11-11T13:01:00.001-05:00

Bringing donuts to poll workers does not constitute voter fraud.

I was just being considerate. Most of the poll workers in my county are volunteers. I thought it would be nice if they knew their volunteer work is appreciate so I stopped off at Publix and picked up a dozen jelly donuts.

The poll workers were very grateful and I was patting myself on the back (after wiping the donut glaze from my fingers) when a disgruntled, impatient voter mutters, "Won't get your man elected."

Now I wasn't preaching politics nor trying to cut in line. I voted a month ago, thank you very much. I don't even have a bumper sticker, especially after tooling around for two months with my hubby's campaign magnet on my car.

I thought about being rude and I even had an insult. I pondering unplugging this guy's voting machine. I'm pretty sure that's illegal and I did have Ray and Wesley with me. What kind of role model would I be if I was committed a felony?

What I did do was let Regan take the last "Georgia Voter" sticker before the rude man could get it. Sometimes niceness is vastly overrated.

I wish I did take this picture.

2008-11-06T06:14:00.003-05:00

My sister sent this to me yesterday. It's so beautiful. I'd thought I share it.

Weekly Warning 11/2/08

2008-11-02T13:19:00.000-05:00

Spray Pam should not be confused with hair conditioning treatment.

I was just piddling, really. Just making dinner when I grabbed the non-stick spray Pam to hose down the cookie sheet for the chicken. Without paying attention (when will I learn?) or checking to see where the direction of the nozzle, I let loose and Pam immediately coats my forehead and top third of my hair. \

The Collie, thinking "Hmm, Mommy's really moisturizing!", leaps up and starts licking my face. Which causes me to back into the pan which pushes the the raw chicken which flies into the air and lands smack dab on my newly baked peanut butter cookies.

In the ensuing insanity, I stick my face under the kitchen faucet to clean off the Pam and Collie drool. It doesn't work so I'm off to the shower de-grease.

Hot Stock Tip: Buy stock in the company which makes Suave 'cause it took half of bottle of shampoo to get all the Pam out. Oh and maybe some acne treatment stuff because I'm expecting major acne breakout this week.

Weekly Warning 10/26/08

2008-10-25T16:41:00.001-04:00

Tailgating a corpse is a moving violation in the state of Georgia.

This happened several years ago. I was rushing home through Atlanta traffic. I was working as a foster care caseworker and had just dropped off a kid at a new group home. It was a Friday afternoon in late July. A quick rain shower was causing steam to rise up on Interstate 85 through the heart of Atlanta. My air conditioning was out and I was sweating in my hose. I was desperately trying to ventilate my little tank top underneath the business suit. My hair was frizzing like a badly dyed Bozo wig--I was going through my blond phase. To be blunt, I looked like I was one tattoo away from an arrest for prostitution.

And so I was 20 or so yards from an ambulance with its lights on but no siren, aka, dead body on board. Then it happened, sirens behind me. An Atlanta PD car snaking across traffic to pull me over.

Officer P. Poole ungraciously informs me that I was tailgating an ambulance. Apparently, I should have been 25 yards and he proceeds to write me a ticket for "tailgating a corpse". Yes, I'm the only person in history to be fined for a moving violation involving a dead body. Jerk--I mean the cop, not the corpse, may he or she rest in peace.

Weekly Warning 10/19/08

2008-10-18T11:22:00.003-04:00

Children are actually sent from outers space to test the limits of maternal patience.

Regan, Regan, Regan. My curious, beautiful, stubborn five year old daughter is now in my Sunday School class. For the past six weeks, she very covertly has been influencing her fifteen classmates.

Week 1: Regan announces that Jesus should be a fisher of both girl and boy trout.
Week 2: God does not like peanut butter treats but rather chocolate.
Week 3: Jesus should have included cookies when he fed 5000 people fish and bread.
Week 4: Poor Jesus, no one brought him a Nintendo DS in Bethlehem.
Week 5: The cry room is a perfect spot to hide from your mommy and daddy.
And the grand finale: Week 6: Regan recites her version of the Lord's Prayer.

"Our Farter, whose art's in heaven, hollow by my name, my kingdom come, my will be done, on earth and every where else, give me your daily Fred, and forget us our treasures as we forget others who treasure against us. And lead us not into the basement but liver us from MMs."

By the time she finished, her fifteen little followers who cannot remember my name after six weeks, were chanting "Our Farter" loudly. Great, I'm teaching kids that God has gas. And you should not go into the basement of houses, Fred apparently has been sold into slavery every day, and everyone should bow to Regan's will. Which has happened to her mini-cult followers.

Weekly Warning 10/12/08

2008-10-11T16:51:00.002-04:00

Puppies have no control over their bladders.

Who can resist a baby wienie dog? A co-worker brought in her newly adopted puppy and of course, I immediately kidnap the cutie and hold it the entire staff meeting. My annual site visit from the state child abuse prevention office was later that morning so I needed some canine stress therapy.

Apparently, little wienie dog girl wanted me to accessorize so she peed on my shirt while she slept. Not much but enough to scream "Dog Urine".

Because I know and expect stuff like this to happen to me, I whipped out my extra shirt before the auditor arrived. Only by spraying Febreeze (also an emergency contigent) all over myself did I mask the smell of puppy pee.

FYI, the audit went fine and the puppy chewed only one part of my report.

Weekly Warning 10/5/08

2008-10-04T07:05:00.002-04:00

Don't leave brightly colored Play-Doh on your fireplace hearth.

Regan did and Zack, our enormous Collie, wolfed them down like it was a hunk of pork butt. She not only left her clay but the four packs I bought for her teacher.

Never mind that Play-Doh wrappers are sprinkled around me house. I found a couple in my bed, on the couch and downstairs near my computer.

Never mind that I have to go buy more for the class.

What is really annoying is that a couple of days later, the crayons made their way through Zack and now our backyard has several mounds of fluorescent speckled poop. We have our own personal solid waste Aurora Borealis that smells three houses over.

Dave said at least we don't need flashlights to navigate the mind field.

Weekly Warning 9/28/08

2008-09-27T18:01:00.000-04:00

On a day when everything that can go wrong does, a bird will poop on your leather handbag.

The kids were fighting like the North and the South. Regan activated my car alarm. The dogs were growling over a squirrel in the yard. I was tripping over empty Kroger bags that escaped their confinement. My keys were no where to be found. I WAS STRESSED.

So what does this deliquent blue jay do? That's right--use my new leather purse as his personal johnnie-on-the-spot. Somedays, you're the bird pooping and others, you're the Poopy Purse.

And the Winners are.....

2008-09-21T12:27:00.001-04:00

Drumroooooollllllll.......

Drawn from a Walmart bag, the random winner of the "For the Fun of Knit" contest was Lil Knitter. She sent several people over from her blog which resulted in multiple entries (not personalities). The Rowen Denim will be shipped off to Mel's--destined to be made in something fabulous.

The strangest non-fiber related hobby was Allergicmom for her love of live action dress up at sci-fi conventions. Your package will remain a surprise until you open the box! Will it be yarn, stitch markers or some obscure Klingon delicacy? Who knows?

If y'all haven't heard from me, please email me your address so I can get your prizes off!

Weekly Warning 9/21/08

2008-09-20T08:49:00.006-04:00

If you apply your makeup in the car, make sure you finish the job before you conduct a training.

Again, I was stressing (a reoccurring theme in my life lately). I was stopped at a particularly nasty red light when I decided to throw on my makeup. The light suddenly turned green and I was off. Then the train stopped me for a moment and out whipped my mascara and eyebrow pencil to darken my non-existent brow. I applied my makeup in bits and spurts until I reached my destination.

Halfway through the introductions, the 32 oz Diet Dr. Pepper that I gulped down made its way to my bladder and I went to the restroom.

Washing my hands, I looked in the bathroom mirror only to discover that I had only made up one of my eyebrows. I looked like a plastic surgery gone bad. However, my noticeable cowlick covered and complimented my absent eyebrow in a very becoming way.

Ike's a Jerk!

2008-09-14T08:33:00.003-04:00

My entire extended family (about 3000 strong) lives in SE Texas in Jefferson, Orange and Jasper counties. Two of those counties, Jefferson and Orange, were under mandatory evacuation due to that jerky storm Ike. My hometown, Orange, is completely flooded--save the Der Wienerschnitzel!

All of my immediate family has checked in safe but extremely tired. They have generators and a loaded guns so they are fine for the present. I'm sure my numerous cousins are fine.

Please say a prayer for Texas! The picture on top of my blog is Wesley at one of the beaches in Galveston on Memorial Day of this year. Galveston holds a special place in my heart. It was the first beach I remember visiting. I hope Galveston will rebound just as well as the 1900 storm.

Weekly Warning 9/14/08

2008-09-13T16:39:00.001-04:00

Wardrobe malfunctions are not limited to the Janet Jacksons of the world.

I had to really, really go to the bathroom one day while I waited for court case to start. I was a underpaid, overworked caseworker stuck in a hot juvenile court waiting room. My office required all women caseworkers to wear hose, heels and dresses/skirts. Never mind that the hose was chafing my thighs or my heels were rubbing blisters on my feet. I was dressed to the nines.

I snuck out and found a bathroom to do my bidness. Ladies, if you read this, you can understand the intense relief you feel when you peel off the hose and let your legs breathe. I did just that and I reveled in the coolness. I even went so far to splash cold water down my bra. I'm telling you it was hot. Georgia in August is not for the weak.

I stomp back to discover my seat was taken by my supervisor (the witch). Fifteen minutes go by and I'm thinking that bathroom break might have done the trick. I wasn't sweating at all.

I should have known something was up. I mean that literally. The office attorney grabbed me and told me my skirt was stuffed up inside my panty hose. So basically, I was displaying my white Lady Hanes bikini underwear and panty hose for all the criminals to view. And to think no one said a word for fifteen minutes including my hag supervisor.

So there, Janet Jackson. You may have flashed your boob to the world but the Juvenile Court of Hall County Georgia knows I wear clean underwear.

Patriot's Day 2008

2008-09-11T20:35:00.002-04:00

I could not let September 11 go by without posting. In my mind's eye, I can still see the plane as it hit one of the Twin Towers and my eyes instantly tear up.

It is my fervant hope that this never happens again. And to all the law enforcement, firefighters, EMS and military, thank you for your service and sacrifice. My prayers are with all you and your family.

For the Fun of Knit Contest

2008-09-06T18:44:00.003-04:00

I'm bored. So when I'm bored, I host a contest. For no reason whatsoever except I'm bored. So here's the contest...

What do you like to do besides knitting or fiber related? Nothing fiber related, zippo, nada, zilch. Personally I love to read and geocache but then again, I'm a geek.

Please post your answers here by 9/21. If you link on your blog, extra entry. Two prizes--one for a random drawing and the other for the strangest. Please no posting about how you like cook butt naked or anything that will cause me nightmares.

The prize for the random drawing will be five skeins of Rowan denim (100% cotton). Beautiful blue. It shrinks in length and fades just like jeans. For the strangest entry, a surprise!

Happy posting!!

Weekly Warning 9/7/08

2008-09-06T06:31:00.005-04:00

While taking your grandma out to eat, zip your purse.

Thieves! Dirty, rotten, lying thieves! You don't want to put your grandmother in jail but her thievin' ways need to stop.

Dave and I took his 93 year old grandmother out to eat at the Blue Willow Inn. The buffet is legendary and I go just to drink their lemonade. If you've never been, go but don't mention my name.

After finishing off my first plate, I graciously ask Granny if she wants more so she doesn't have to walk anymore than she has too. She requests another plate but with two extra order of fried green tomatoes. I'm taken back. After all this woman weighs something like ten pounds soaking wet but being the nice girl but I head off.

After my second plate is demolished, I noticed Granny has beat me in devouring the second plate. I ask Granny if she'd like desert. She does--pecan pie and another order of fried green tomatoes. My radar blings but no one else finds this strange.

When we pay, Granny takes Dave and hoofs it outside, spreading the crowd with her mahogany cane. I pull out my card and out of my purse plops two orders of fried green tomatoes wrapped in a flimsy paper napkin. I don't know why Granny felt the need to shoplift fried green tomatoes. She was not hurting for money.

The hostess and I complete our transaction. Neither one of us mention the hunk of food slowly dripping grease on the cash register. It's the Southern version of the elephant in the room. The hostess drops a pen (rather calculated) and while she picks it up, I grab the napkin and stuff it in my purse.

When asked, Granny said she loves their tomatoes and could never fry them right so she's takes them to snack on during the week. Ever the Southern lady, Granny thanked me for my help and then had the temerity to ask why her tomatoes were squashed. Dave remarked that I should be happy it wasn't a bowl of gravy.

FYI, Regan whose middle name is Granny's recently threw a handful of peanuts in my purse at a Longhorn. Once again, Dave reminded me that it could have been applesauce.

Poem Meme

2008-09-01T10:12:00.005-04:00

I was tagged by someone and I apologize because for the life of me, I don't remember who. But it was a Poetry Meme. What's your favorite poem and why? I've got a triple whammy. I'm a Mommy, a social worker and a Texan. Put these three things together and you have an empathetic know-it-all who wants to improve the world. I read this in ninth grade and it resonated with me. All these years and I can still recite it at the drop of a hat. Amazing and I still can't remember who tagged me.

Emily Dickinson was one strange chick but could she crank out some literature.

Part One:
Life VI
If I can stop one heart from breaking,
I shall not live in vain;
If I can ease one life the aching,
Or cool one pain,
Or help one fainting robin
Unto his nest again,
I shall not live in vain.

I challenge all who read this post to tag yourself and find the verse that speaks to you.

Weekly Warning 8/31/08

2008-08-30T17:12:00.003-04:00

Nasal decongestants do not work as well as prescription pain killers for broken bones.

I dedicate this weekly warning to the "accident" that led me to knitting.

Three years ago on 8/27, I was tooling around a park on my mountain bike when I flipped the sucker going 20 miles an hour. I shattered my left wrist and broke my left elbow.

After the surgery the next day (a Saturday), my dear Nurse Ratchet (my darling hubby) administered a "pain killer" for my arm that night. He thoughtfully left the next dose on the counter. I woke up an hour later because my arm was throbbing in pain. Normally, I tolerate pain well. After all, I have had two c-sections and was driving a car three days later on both without any pain killers. Shhh, don't tell my doctor.

I moaned and impatiently waited two more hours for my next dose. I took it and fell asleep within a few minutes. A mere thirty minutes later, I woke up in pain. I was desperate--I even woke Dave up to take me to hospital for a morphine drip.

Dave got dressed and grabbed the prescription bottle. When he uttered, "Uh-oh", I knew it was not going to be good. He had been giving me my prescription allergy medication instead of my pain killers.

But some good came of the broken arm. My physical therapist suggested I take up knitting to loosen the wrist. And for two days after the surgery, I had no sinus headache.

Weekly Warning 8/24/08

2008-08-24T12:05:00.001-04:00

If you run over a snake, they do not squash but rather flip up into the air and land on your windshield.

Using your windshield wipers only makes the snake angry and pushes the reptile closer to your driver's side window. Unless you have the reflexes of Superman, don't try to roll your window up. The snake does not like to get caught in the window. I'm sure the little forked tongue was cussing me out.

Stash Shawl

2008-08-19T18:55:00.002-04:00

I'm trying to be very good, really I am. I'm slowly using up my enormous stash of yarn. I have frogged the Stolen Moments shawl. I just wasn't feeling the love. So I found a pattern for a scarf and tweaked it. Well, to be honest, I totally re-did it.

Using a worsted weight yarn (I think it was a Knit Picks or it may have been a Cascade wool) and size 19 straights, cast on 40 stitches.

Knit 3 rows
Row 4: K1, (YO, K2tog until you have one stitch left), K1
Row 5: K2, P36, K2
Row 6: K40
Row 7: K2, P36, K2

Repeat Rows 4-7 until you have your desired length.

Knit 3 final rows to finish. Block.

Shameless Contest Promotions Part II

2008-08-17T18:54:00.002-04:00

Knit scarves for the Red Scarf Project. They distribute handmade scarves to foster kids in college.

Darcy is having a contest on her blog.

Knitting in Red Shoes has a wonderful contest.

Weekly Warning 8/17/08

2008-08-16T13:57:00.003-04:00

While wearing a large foam turtle suit in 100 degree weather for several hours, don't put ice on your head.

The ice will melt, causing you to look like you peed in the turtle suit. This in turn will make all young children afraid of you when you're there to entertain kids.

Weekly Warning 8/10/08

2008-08-09T08:53:00.003-04:00

Do not allow your children to bring more than one toy to a church service.

Regan, my lovely five year old daughter, brings a stuffed animal to Mass every time we go. Ordinarily, I encourage it because it's extremely difficult to pray and play thumb wars at the same time.

In the past, Regan has brought in Transformers, stuffed animals, and once her Anne Boleyn Barbie doll (with the head off) attired in a lady of the evening type outfit my mother in law bought. Ray has been calling it Anne but she is totally unaware why I call that particular doll Anne. I thought I saw the priest twitch when Regan wanted Anne blessed last month. I had a calm yet useful talk with Ray about bringing incomplete toys to church.

A couple of weeks she brought in a new stuffed animal--a Beanie Baby Goat as well as sneaking in Anne.

After Mass, Regan leaps out of the church and approaches the visiting priest--fortunately our regular priest was on vacation.

Here's a gist of the conversation:

Ray: "Look at my new toy [meaning the Beanie baby goat]. His name is Horny Goat."

The priest opens up his mouth and then closes it.

I finally get there after my stomach drops when I heard "Horny Goat". To my utter but not so surprising (after all Regan) astonishment, Anne Boleyn Barbie complete with feather boa is straddling "Horny Goat" in what might be construed as an intimate manner

Not wanting to make a scene, because a) Regan has no clue what "horny" means outside of having antlers, b) Ray also thinks Trashy Dressed Anne is merely using Horny has transportation and c) we are right outside a church, I usher her out while telling the priest that Wesley is waiting for us.

I'm sure Ray is the talk of the priest staff meeting this month and now has an entire chapter in priest school devoted to strange children and their freaky parents.

FYI--Dave has since found the head of Anne under Ray's bed and reattached head to body. I've convinced Ray to rename the goat Pointy. The infamous feather boa has mysteriously disappeared.

Secret Pal Package

2008-08-07T14:51:00.002-04:00

Thank you, Chibi Wordsworth, aka my Secret Pal. I love it all.

Victory Scarf

2008-08-05T06:08:00.004-04:00

While I haven't really posted a lot about my knitting recently, I, in fact, still do knit. I've been stuck doing baby caps for my work. Nothing really special about the pattern so there's not much to post.

I lost my scarf last spring. Actually, I am still kind of upset about it. It was the first thing I made for myself and I'm sure it's wasting away somewhere in a dump. Granted it wasn't the prettiest thing every knitted. In fact, some might consider it the scarf most likely to grace the Bride of Frankenstien's neck but I wore it proudly like a badge of honor.

So in memory of the atrocious acrylic (yes, I knit with acrylic and I even like some of it) scarf, I made a new one. However, this one was made with Twinkle Handknits 100% virgin wool in Dusty Pink. It was a dream to knit.

Without further ado, here is the Victory Scarf. I almost knit this entire scarf while waiting for the election results in Dave's bid for Board of Education.

I used size 19 needles and nearly two skeins of Twinkle Handknits bulky virgin wool. But any bulky yarn will do.

Cast on 12.

Knit 2 rows.

Row 3: K2, (YO, K2tog) repeat until you have two stitches left, k2
Row 4: Knit
Row 5: Repeat row 3
Row 6: Knit
Row 7: Knit
Row 8: Knit

Repeat Rows 3-8 until you get the length you want. Bind off.

You may want to block it a bit to stretch out yo's. I also slipped the first stitch of every row to tighten the edges.

Right now, a semi-matching cloche is in the works.

Weekly Warning 8/3/08

2008-08-04T15:05:00.001-04:00

Cheap fruity wine from Walmart causes horrible hangovers.

That's why this weekly warning is late.

Weekly Warning 7/27/08

2008-07-27T06:51:00.000-04:00

Dust under your furniture before you move the couch.

I knew there were dust bunnies the size of dinosaurs under my couch. The pair of fuzzy slippers and complete set of Spiderman dominoes didn't surprise me. Basically, I was shocked to find Jimmy Hoffa's body not under my couch.

When Dave and I picked up the couch to rearrange our living room, a streak of blue fuzz with a wagging whiplike appendage flashed under as we struggled to keep it from crashing down. Zack had spotted a two inch slice of rawhide and made a dash for it. Nevermind Zack cannot detect a 12 point buck wandering by our front door or a gaggle of religious zealots proclaiming that we're going to die tomorrow while parading down our driveway. But he can zero in on a minute piece of food.

To make matters worse, I cut my left pointy finger on a spring while holding the couch aloft and cannot knir nor typf.

Weekly Warning 7/20/08

2008-07-19T09:25:00.004-04:00

When pulling up signs (such as political, garage sale, etc), please be careful that you don't grab a snake instead of the stake.

Being the considerate treasurer of divaD's campaign (see previous weekly warning), I decide to help pull up signs to declutter our beautiful community.

But the flimsy metal stakes can be tricky. Coupled with kudzu (a parasitic ivy that is rapidly covering the state of Georgia), I had to reach down and yank. I was rather surprised when the stake came up quickly and was about to throw it in V-ger's trunk when I realized the stake moved.

Yep, I had yanked up a king snake instead of the metal stake. Wailing does not even begin to describe the sound that came from me.

I hate politics.

Dave Won!!!

2008-07-15T23:01:00.003-04:00

Yippee. The results just came in and Dave was elected the new school board rep for our district! He received 60% over his two opponents. I'm so proud of him!

Weekly Warning 7/13/08

2008-07-13T06:34:00.003-04:00

Just because a truck driver honks at you, don't automatically assume it's your cleavage.

I was driving down the interstate in V-ger, our Silver Dodge Avenger with the sun roof open and jamming to, well, I'm not going to say because I'm embarrassed. Oh, all right, Rick Springfield's Jessie's Girl.

A trucker in a chicken truck passes me, honking and waving. I think, "Wow, this tank top must make me look busty." And I'm sort of flattered. I mean, maybe the gray in my hair doesn't show as bad as I think. The cowlick in my bangs is actually pretty. No one can see the giant deflated balloon that is my belly.

Another passes and honk. And then a couple of more. Now I'm getting mad. Who do these guys think I am? Some sort of desperate, easy gal? Some sex-starved individual?

When I get to my destination, I get out and my ego gets a large jab. Regan had switched all of Dave's BOE election magnets (and I have four on V-ger) upside down. The truckers were just pointing them out trying to help Dave. Who would vote for divaD for your school board representative if he can't spell his own name?

So in the end, I guess I won't be getting that phone call from Vogue but at least I can still vote for divaD.

PS Regan has not yet been put for adoption. Check back later for updates.

SP Question of the Week

2008-07-10T05:59:00.002-04:00

1) Where is your favorite place to go for vacation/holiday?
2) Where is one place you’d like to go?

I absolutely love Charleston, SC. I also loved going back home to Texas to Galveston. Charleston for the sheer beauty and history and Galveston for the plain fun of it.

Both Dave and I really, really, really want to take several weeks and see Ireland and Great Britain. I don't know why but I've always been drawn to Ireland. Maybe I was a leprechaun in a former life.

Weekly Warning 7/6/08

2008-07-05T08:40:00.005-04:00

Watch your cooling apple pie very carefully.

Fourth of July means good old apple pie, right? That's what I thought but in our household, the apple pie is complimented with a large dash of Collie. I'm getting ready to put the pie on the cooling rack when I had to leave the kitchen because of "bam" in the living room.

BIG, GIANT, FATAL errors on my part add up to Independence Day Mystery. Put on your Nancy Drew mask and let's reconstruct the crime.

1. The opportunistic Collie (Zack) who apparently is starving to death is in the kitchen
2. The defenseless apple pie who was minding its own business onto my stove
3. The clueless person (me) who thought the opportunistic Collie could be trusted because he did pass agility classes.
4. The pint-sized minion of the opportunistic Collie (Regan) who unwittingly played into Zack's monstrous paws.
5. The allegedly "cheerful" holiday family gathering which was about to start.

This all adds up to me screaming like one of the dumb blonde victims in a Friday the 13th flick.

I come back into the kitchen to find Zack licking Regan's sticky apple filling fingers--Exhibit A. A perfectly snout shaped hole in the middle of my pie--hmmm, Exhibit B. Dutch apple crumb topping ground into my floor in the shape of a canine print--Exhibit C. I think we have enough evidence to convict the Collie for Aggravated Assault on a Pastry. Regan should be charged with Accessory to Assault.

I never did find out what the "Bam" sound in the living room was. Methinks, there's another accomplice in the shape of an obese senior Australian Shepherd.

PS--You were right, Lil' Knitter.

Happy Independence Day!

2008-07-04T15:50:00.002-04:00

For all US citizens overseas and here at home. May your hamburgers not flame up, your favorite beverage (beer, wine, or Diet Dr Pepper) be ice cold and your apple pie not be eaten by Collies.

2008-07-02T19:17:00.001-04:00

you are lightgoldenrodyellow
#FAFAD2

Your dominant hues are red and green, so you're definately not afraid to get in and stir things up. You have no time for most people's concerns, you'd rather analyze with your head than be held back by some random "gut feeling".

Your saturation level is very low - you have better things to do than jump headfirst into every little project. You make sure your actions are going to really accomplish something before you start because you hate wasting energy making everyone else think you're working.

Your outlook on life is bright. You see good things in situations where others may not be able to, and it frustrates you to see them get down on everything.

the spacefem.com html color quiz

SP Question of the Week

2008-07-02T17:31:00.002-04:00

1) What yarn (that you don’t have/haven’t used) would make your stash “complete”?
2) What yarn do you never want to be without?

I would love to knit quivet but that pesky food bill gets in the way.

My most favorite yarns in the whole wide world are and in no particular order

1. Fleece Artist (for the color)
2. Katsara Yarns (again the color)
3. Atacania Yarns from South America. They are complete joy to use.

Thanks to the Knit Wits of Georgia.

2008-06-28T20:26:00.003-04:00

After my post about my new job as a social worker for pregnant women, my knitting group responded in a huge way. Hats and booties galore.

Now, off the knitting topic, I want to ask all parents--what concrete information could you have used when you had a baby? I revamping the "welcome" packet for new moms and want some imput from experienced parents. Please take a moment and post your idea in the comments section. Thanks a bunch.

Weekly Warning 6/29/08

2008-06-28T10:35:00.000-04:00

If you or your spouse seek public office, don't put magnets advertising their name on your car.

I get road rage. I admit it. This is why I never carry weapons (my Swiss Army knife doesn't count). This is another reason I swear in six different languages (English, Spanish, French, Korean, American Sign and some Hmong). My kids think I'm muttering nonsense and because I vent my frustration in Poncho Villa's language, I don't use obscene hand gestures (well, unless I'm signing)

You probably see how this week's warning is shaping up. So until 7/15, I'm an auto angel. To reward myself, I got a supersize cherry Dr. Pepper.

SP Question of the Week

2008-06-27T18:38:00.002-04:00

What would you consider the perfect amount of stash?

Wow, never really thought that big. Honestly, I have just the right amount of yarn but please don't think I would refuse any but I think I have enough.

SP Question of the Week

2008-06-22T08:24:00.000-04:00

As a kid, what did you look forward to most about summer vacation/break/holiday?

Being able to go outside all day without having to do homework. I'd get up at the crack of dawn, watch a little of Casper the Friendly Ghost, climb trees, catch crawdads, chase my brothers with slingshots and generally cause mayhem on Bruce Lane in Orange, Texas. Oh and I was always barefooted. Sometimes when I really felt mean, I'd hide my sister's diary or taunt Ms. Ramey's evil wienie dog, Xanadu, by making faces at him through the fence.

Whew, busy little delinquent, wasn't I?

I'm Big Clumsy Puppy.

2008-06-21T16:58:00.002-04:00

Stolen from Lil' Knitter....

Weekly Warning 6/22/08

2008-06-21T08:11:00.003-04:00

Always carry your identification in when you're visiting an in-patient mental hospital.

One late evening in February, I got called out on a snowy evening to GMHI (Georgia Mental Health Institute) because I had the double misfortune of being a social worker and carrying the on-call emergency pager for my county. GMHI was the state run mental health hospital in Atlanta. One of my kids had threatened to do something to someone and was "10-13ed" to GMHI. Because the state had custody, the on-call caseworker--me--had to sign committment papers NOW as the intake worker put it.

Looking like death warmed over at 2 a.m. while wearing Scooby Doo pajamas top and flip flops does not inspire professional confidence but I had been rudely awakened to drive 60 miles into Atlanta.

I arrive without fanfare to sign the papers only to wait for an hour in the waiting room with "my" charge who called me every name in the book. I pointedly ignored the comments about my sex life and read a two year AMA journal.

When the attendent called out my kid's name (we'll go with Carrie) to go to her room, I followed him. Carrie did not do the same.

We got to the door and Mr. Warm and Fuzzy Attendent slaps some restraints on me. At this juncture, I wake up and tell the guy I'm not "Carrie" but rather her social worker. He ignores me and pulls me toward the hospital. When I resist, he demands to see my state ID (which is out in my car). Then he tells me that he'll sedate me if I don't shut up.

Carrie is nearly on the floor laughing. She finally informs the medic of the situation.

Scary that I had to rely on a teen age terrorist to bust me out of a mental hospital because I didn't have an ID proving I was the sane one. Which when you think about it, working social services for 12 years is not exactly normal.

Shameless Contest Promotions

2008-06-15T06:19:00.002-04:00

Darcy has some fabulous prizes.

Knit and Purl Mama has a meatball guessing contest. Guess how many meatballs on a plate for the prize.

Deb's blog has a wonderful prize--a handmade shopping bag.

Blind Purls is giving away books.

A Verb for Keeping Warm is having a comments contest on where you knit in public yesterday.

Good Luck and may the Yarn Be With You.

Weekly Warning 6/15/08

2008-06-14T08:05:00.007-04:00

Volunteering too much during the week causes injury by Sharpie.

It's a match made in National Enquirer heaven.

This week from 9-3 was Boy Scout Camp. Somehow, I was Craft Leader. And I know what you're thinking. What person in their right might would designate Christy as craft leader? It wasn't too bad. I help to make 60 walking sticks and only tied my fingers together twice. The hot glue gun splattered onto my fingers once. That silly popsicle stick frame didn't mean to gouge my eye.

Then it was onto Vacation Bible School at my church where I was a kindergarten leader from 5:00-8:30.

Finally, I helped Dave's campaign for school board by putting up signs on roadways between roadtrips to Walmart for twine and Hobby Lobby for pin backings.

Where does the felonious Sharpie come into play? I loaded all my supplies into the car. Actually, to be honest, I threw all the supplies in the car. I was hot, the kids were cranky and all we wanted to do was go home.

Well, got home and realized I smelled an open Sharpie. Looked everywhere and I turned my head. Looking like a huge hickey, I had a glob of red Sharpie marks on my neck. When I threw the supplies in, one came uncapped and landed in the tiny little section between my seat and the headrest with the felt end sticking out. And as we know, Sharpies are permanent or at least last a whole long time on skin.

Forget about gun safety. We need education on Sharpie safety.

SP Question of the Week

2008-06-14T08:04:00.003-04:00

What is my favorite summertime drink?

I love a good iced sweet tea but I'm very picky. It needs to be made with Tetley tea and sugar. Not Lipton and/or Splenda.

Of course, cold Diet Dr. Pepper in a can is wonderful.

But the best is just plain cold water.

Weekly Warning 6/8/08

2008-06-07T09:48:00.002-04:00

Some dogs secretly possess thumbs.

I love all dogs--big dogs, small dogs, hairy dogs, stinky dogs, goofy dogs, dogs that steal your pork chops right out of the marinade. Well, not so much about the pork chop one but you get the idea.

Zack, the wonder Collie, is a big baby--a seventy pound baby. Our old Aussie, Zoe, to put it bluntly, is evil. The animal kingdom fears her. She is training Zack to be a minion.

Zoe and Zack "play fight". To an outsider, it looks like we're grooming an overweight senior dog and lanky, goofus Collie as dog fighters. But they are so entertaining to watch and we're too poor to go to the movies, we let them horse around.

Every once in a while, it gets rough and Zack flees to the safety of his metal crate. He did it today and Zoe was barking wildly (probably swearing at him in Caninish) while Zack whimpered. I went downstairs and Zack had somehow opened the crate lever and locked himself in. Or Zoe whipped out her thumbs to teach the whippersnapper a lesson. Who knows?

I do know I will keep my car keys with me at all times now.

Total Time Suck

2008-06-05T09:01:00.002-04:00

Found this site and played around for awhile.

In blue are the states I have visited and/or not been arrested. In yellow are the states who run away when I try to visit. The lone state in red is where I've visited and almost got arrested.

In my defense, Mr. Lake Charles, LA police officer was a bit rude and nasty. I mean why put a railroad track across the street from the McDonald's and then proceed to stop innocent college students trying to get a Quarter Pounder in the middle of the night as they fly over the tracks in their 1984 Ford Escort ruining their suspension?

I'm a Workin' Girl.

2008-06-04T14:17:00.001-04:00

Well, not in the sex trade sense but I am now the new part time First Steps Coordinator for the Treehouse in Winder, GA. I'll be providing referrals and support to new mothers 20 hours a week starting Monday, 6/16. Back in the social work saddle, so to speak.

What does this have to do with knitting? First Steps provide "goodie" bags to the new moms. I've put an all call out to my fellow yarn groupies to help provide baby caps to the newborns. There's not a whole lot--ten per month so if you feel the need to donate (and it's tax-deductible), please email me and I'll get the details. Any neutral color knit or crocheted in an acrylic yarn is fine.

Easy Caramel Pie for Ray's Birthday

2008-06-01T14:12:00.000-04:00

Raising Regan has not and will not be stress-free. What five year old girl refuses a princess birthday cake from Publix? Why does she insist on a "new" pie? Of course, I try several recipes and the official taste-tester, Ray, doesn't like any. So as a last resort, I threw what little ingredients I had and just when I thought I was due for dose of valium, she likes this pie.

2 graham cracker crusts
1 large tub of Cool Whip, thawed
1 jar of caramel ice cream topping
1 package cream cheese, softened
1 large jar of sweetened condensed milk
A bag of pecans (optional)
1 stubborn five year old blonde czarina

Cream softened cream cheese until smooth and butter-like. Mike Cool Whip, caramel, sweetened condensed milk until smooth Add pecans (if you want them). Pour into the two graham cracker crusts. Allow the blonde czarina to lick the bowl or you'll be beheaded. Chill for a couple of hours.