March Madness

For those keeping up with Hoops this month, I've been filling in my brackets. It's the only time I follow Bball.

First, what in the heck is a Gonzaga? Am I the ONLY person who has never heard of this school?

I'm rooting for Cornell against Kentucky. Wouldn't that be cool to see them take it all the way?

I think the Duke Purdue game is going to be a rumble.

I'm rooting for Xavier because I like the name.

I think I'd like to see St. Mary's take Baylor, although I do think St. Mary's sounds like an all girls Prep school. Do they wear plaid jumpers when they play?

That's all for my expert commentary on basketball. I know. I should work for Fox Sports...

Let Them Eat Bread

I'm trying desperately to keep my mind off of what Congress and our President have just done to our Country.

I'm trying not to think of the fact they have single handedly thrown us into a downward spiral that will bankrupt this Nation on the backs of my children.

And the IRS. No longer will it be the Tax Man Cometh, but the Insurance Police Cometh. I keep picturing that Executioner guy from the comic Wizard of Id, that would go door to door with the Tax Man.

And nothing will happen... nothing is going to happen to the people who voted on this POS that sold us all down the river and is about to destroy us.

The guys I voted for didn't vote for this. I'm not in a precinct to vote anyone out that offered up their vote. And the Americans will forget. The collective memory is so short, come November, I fear there will be NO retaliation.

None.

We are stuck.

It is a feeling of hopelessness... it is.

And so... some thoughts that aren't about politics and the demise of this great Country, a Country so far in debt that we can not possibly be considered with any great seriousness in this World.

It is best we all learn Chinese...

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My father in law came to dinner tonight. He brought with him a Panettone. Evidently this is something that can only be acquired about 40 minutes south of us from some Italian Bakery (no kidding, it is SHIPPED from Italy), so he and his buddy trekked down to purchase said sweet bread.

I'd never had it before. They told me it was like raisin bread, but it appeared to be raisin bread on steroids as I'm not sure what kind of loaf pan they bake it in, but it's huge.

Think HUGE CUBE of bread.

The boys were sitting at the table laughing. Pop's back was to me. I took a bite thinking raisin bread and... it's not.

I don't care what Pop says, it's not raisin bread. The look on my face threw them into fits of laughter, which of course made me play it up more.

I'm not sure how to describe Panettone except perhaps it is a cross between a Challa bread and old fashioned American Fruit cake.

I ate my hunk of bread and thanked them profusely, but honestly, I've been sick to my stomach ever since, but I suspect it's because of Congress more so than I've eaten something I normally don't eat in my diet. (I still don't eat white flour products.)

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Jerry at Back Home Again had a cool idea of looking at your Census Footprint.

As he puts it, where were you on those zero years? So here we go... (assuming it is always March of the Zero year...)

1960 Not born. Hell, my folks weren't even married.

1970: Going on 5 years old, living in Mayport, FL. Shoot. Mom wasn't even pregnant with Mo yet! I had one brother, going on 3. TGOO was on the USS Saratoga, my best little girlfriend's Dad was on the Kitty Hawk. The things that don't show up in a Census...

1980 Freshman in high school, 14 years old, Pensacola, FL. One brother, one sister. We'd just moved back Stateside from Taiwan the year before.

1990 24 years old, single, graduated from college, working for Company X in West Palm Beach, and dating my husband.

2000 34 years old, married, three boys, aged 5 yr, 3 yr and 10 mo, still working parttime but just weeks away from being laid off (thankfully) due to the plant closing. My MIL had just died... so she didn't even make this Census. Dang. I'd not thought of that. Pop had to put down Single. That had to suck.

2010 44 years old, married, three boys 15, 13, 10. Working parttime again... but happy about it, subcontracting for the same company that closed locally 10 years previously.

In 2020... I'll be 54, and all my boys will be nearly out of college. Dang. I still won't be in the free and clear!!! Hopefully nobody will be living here, however. Hopefully my Census will just say two in this household.

As it should be. Not that I'm counting or anything...

Pay a Visit and Feel Free to Leave your Clothes, I'll Call You When They're Clean

Am I the only one who finds other kids' clothes in their home?

Thursday, we were looking for a Class B shirt for Scouts for Mr. T. I went into Ringo's room where he was sorting through his drawers. I found one in the bottom of a drawer.

Me: See?

Ringo: It's not ours. It's Sean's.

Me: What are we doing with SEAN'S Class B?

Ringo: He has mine.

Me: And? Are we going to swap back?

Ringo: I dunno. I guess I should call him.

I threw it to T to wear.

Flash forward to today. I was going through clean laundry in the basket, looking for a shirt for Ringo as he had spent the night at a friend's home spontaneously and I was going to take him clean clothes during my day's travels. (Sidenote: Does my oldest son own any t-shirts that aren't black, have a picture of a skull or a bloody handprint, with a band name that doesn't illicit visions of death? I think not... for I did not see one.)

I picked up a pair of shorts. I held them up as 1) I'd never seen them before and 2) they came down to my shins.

Me: Whose are these?

Bones: Oh those are Peter's.

Me: Peter's? What in the heck are they doing here?

Bones: He left them here. I'm seeing him tonight at the sleepover. I'll take it back to him.

Continuing on, I found a shirt that was NOT black, did NOT have a skull or bloody handprint, and did NOT have a name of a band illiciting visions of death.

Me: This is not ours.

Bones: No. That's Michael's. He lives down the street. I'll ride my bike over and get it to him when he's back from vacation.

I have found strange underwear in my home (boy's I should add for clarification!), bathing suits, shoes (who forgets their SHOES?), towels, socks, and a rashguard shirt, whose owner we were never able to determine, so it became ours.

Am I the only Mother who perpetually finds and washes other kid's clothes in their home? What IS this ABOUT?! Sheesh.
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I've been telling my boys lately, individually, how each of them is so lucky to have the other two as brothers. I pointed out the positives in each of their siblings as well as telling them how bad it really COULD be.

Overall my boys get along pretty well, but sometimes, as with all siblings, things can go not so well.

I ended the conversation with each, bringing out examples of other sets of siblings we know that 'could have just as well been their sibling, and then what?' The younger two were both saying, "Oh yeah, he would be awful to have as a brother!" as I brought up names. I know, it's not nice, but it hammered home some real points to them.

Love what you have; there are always others that could make life TRULY miserable.

But my eldest's take was much different, and this was pretty much the conversation as it wound down.

Me: Hey. You could have Peter as your brother. He's very whiney.

Ringo: That's because of his family and the divorce, and how he's treated by his parents. He only whines when he's told NO because he's not used to hearing it. Everyone always tells him yes.

Me: Well, there is Bill. He would bug the crap out of you...

Ringo: You'd never have tolerated his behavior. He'd not be like that in our family...

Me: OK, fine. What about Dom. Can you imagine having Dom as your brother?

Ringo: Mom, please. Can you imagine what he'd be like if YOU were his Mom? He'd be nothing like that. Besides, he doesn't really have a Dad and I think that's most of his problem. If he was in our family, he'd not be who he is.

Me:

Ringo:

Me: So basically what you're telling me is that if *I* was any of these kids' Mom, they'd be better people?

Ringo: Yeah. Basically...

Me: Hunh.

So there you go. I have a teenager who thinks I'm a good Mom. That's cool.

And... all names of all kids have been changed. I never use real names. It wouldn't be nice.

How She Got the Name 'Sainted Mother'

This very well may be, the funniest dang post I've read in a long long time.

Go HERE to Eric's. If you read him, you may have read this. If you don't read him, and you need a laugh, you need to click on over.

My thoughts?

First, it is obvious to me now why he calls his mother, "My Sainted Mother".

Second, three boys is NOTHING compared to One Eric.

Third... I'd have had a stroke!

Sidenote to my Dad: Dad... go read it. It has the makings of something that will make you laugh... boy stuff, Deep South, and stuff you just flat can't make up.

A St. Patrick's Day Post... Kind of.

We were in the asexual Mom-mobile this afternoon, coming home from various music lessons. On the radio was an upbeat Irish sounding tune and when glancing at the radio, I noticed the name of the band was "Flogging Molly".

"What a great name for a band!" I said to my eldest boy... and the following conversation ensued to the best of my recollection.

Ringo: Yeah, they're a great band. They're going to be playing at SunFest you know?

I hate SunFest. I hate the crowds, the problem with parking, the crowds, the heat, the crowds.

Me: No way. Really?

Ringo: Really.

Me: Hunh. I may have to go... You know, I could come up with a band name equally good for you. How about Punching Sean?

Ringo: No... please.

Me: Punt Puppies.

Bones: What is a punt puppy?

Explanation as to what a punt puppy is, ensued.

Me: You could call it... Punting Bones!

Bones: Hey!

Ringo: Right.

Me: Wait! I have it! Whipping Walter.

Remember this post..., I pronounce the WH when saying words such as what, when, where, and whip. It makes Ringo bat crap crazy.

Ringo: NO! NO! You did it again. Whhhhipping Walter. NO. It's WIP. WIP!

Me: It's a GREAT name and you know it!

Ringo: NO! You'd make everyone pronounce it like you do and it would make me nuts! I'd NEVER let you buy a CD! Never.

The fight continues over the pronunciation of words and I'm still bent as hell on coming up with a name for his band, even if Whhhipping Walter was a joke.

For your enjoyment... Flogging Molly. Gotta love a Drunk Irishman on a skateboard...

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

Geeky Engineering Play on Words

I'm putting this out there, because *I* personally find it so dang amusing. We keep laughing at work.

I have never laid eyes upon most of the guys I work with at Company X. They're up in the Great White North and I'm down here in FL and via phone and email is how we communicate.

Our assistant, whose cube is across from me, and I play this game of 'What do you think he looks like?"

It all started a couple years ago when some guys in IT at Company X, not only googled my name to see what I look like, but readily admitted it.

I hung up the phone and said, "Ev, they frickin' looked me up!"

Ev: Wait. They googled you?

Me: YES!

Ev: And... they ADMITTED it?

Me: YES! Dopey IT guys. They didn't even think to be embarrassed in the least!

And so it started that she and I play this game. It is based PURELY on voice. We have absolutely nothing else to go on. Our curiosity is such, if we meet someone from Company X, we'll ask them with great animation and curiosity, "SO! What does Joe Bag of Doughnuts look like?"

I've noticed that most of the guys, if they have an animated voice, I make about 5'10" and lean. If they're whiny, I put them as schlumpy. It's just the trend I'm seeing.

And that brings us to today's conversation. I strongly suspect only those of you who work in the aersospace business are going to find this funny.

What the hell.

Background: I'm doing augmentor duct work for one of the lead engineers at Company X. Each lead engineer has a different section of the aircraft. This conversation is written out exactly as *I* heard it, not as it was meant.

Ev: I got this email from Malik.

Me: I'm working that big panic job for him. It's high priority. I'm going insane.

Ev: What do you think he looks like?

Me: Mmmm... 5'8" to 5'10". Dark hair, lean. 30ish. Middle Eastern looking. Dark. No glasses.

Ev: Wow. You've been far more generous in your mind than I was in mine.

Male voice of a co-worker I didn't know was at her cube: Turbine?

Me, peeking around the corner: No. Augmentor Ducts.

Male: *pause* *Ev has bent around the corner and is laughing* NOoo... *swirling his hand around his head* TurBAN.

Me: OH! Turban! No. No turban.

And at that, everyone in the office busted out laughing and it's become the big joke now.

We're geeky. It amuses me.

Home Improvements, Clandestine Like

My eldest son mow's our lawn with a John Deere riding lawn mower. We live on an acre and it takes him about an hour and a half. He's getting better and better, but it's still a big mower and he's still 5'2 and 115 pounds.

A few weeks ago he was out mowing in the back and he got close to our screened in patio. I watched as he came up along side it to get the grass next to the small paver walkeway that abutts it, when I saw he got stuck. I stood in our kitchen, the slider to the porch was open, and watched as he tried to maneuver out of his jam.

He threw it in reverse, hit the gas, and *LURCH* it snagged backwards and I watched his body jolt.

I raised my eyebrows and continued to watch as he put it in idle and sat there looking at something, intense expression on his face combined with horror.

I slowly walked out the sliding door to see what had happened, to see him look up at me.

Me? I was amused and questioning what exactly had been done.

To him? I was probably a figure hulking in the doorway.

He sat there with a deer in the headlights look as I stepped out and said, "What happened?"

Ringo: I got stuck in the grass, put it in reverse and it bounced back.

Me: Damage?

Ringo: I hit the cement post here and... I tore the screen in the bottom corner.

I walked over to look and sure enough, the corner had ripped out.

Me: How bad is the cement post?

Ringo: Other than the big tire mark that is screaming that I hit it? It's fine.

Me: Hunh. We need to get this fixed.

Ringo:

Me:

Ringo: You're not going to tell Dad?

Me: Hell no. Do you think for a minute I want to hear him carry on? Phht. No. This is your Boy Scout project for your Family Life badge where you have to do something with a family member. You and I are going to fix the screen and he'll be none the wiser.

Ringo: Do you know how to fix it?

Me: No clue.

Ringo: *big pause* Maybe you could ask the guys you work with. They seem to know everything about stuff like this...

Me: Yup. I'll ask them and we'll figure it out. Don't sweat it.

Flash forward to today in the car.

Ringo: Mom. We have to fix the screen.

Me: I know. The guys at work told me what I need to do and I found it on the internet. I'm just waiting for your Dad to go out of town... Has he noticed?

Ringo: Not really. But let's just say he's starting to wonder why the porch is getting so dirty and where all the crap is starting to come from.

I just found out that my husband has a class on Saturday. Guess what Ringo and I will be doing???