Life expectancy would grow by leaps and bounds if green vegetables smelled as good as bacon. ~Doug Larson
oh, ain't it the truth, though? mmmmmbacon.
smockmomma: September 2008 Archives
see what happens when mamaT goes on a honeymoon? the smock totally drops the blogball and this place is so quiet you could hear a pin drop. anyhoo. . .just so y'all know that the rumors are not true, we are all still alive, if not kickin' -- or typin' as the case may be.
a day late, and a dollar short, and in a nutshell, i bring you the smockversion of watcha readin' wednesday ...
well, like mamaT, i'm always jugglin' several. in the mini-library (read john), it's bright lights, big ass, by my alter ego jen lancaster; in the car, it's seduced by madness -- no, not the sorry, made-for-lifetime ann margret b-movie about dianne borchardt, but seduced by madness: the true story of the susan polk murder case; and by the bed, it's confessions of an ugly stepsister.
what these titles say about me and my personality, i will leave to you to decide. iffin' i don't get back to the blog soon, y'all have a beautiful weekend.
i am thirty-eight years old today. boy do i wish i could offer some sage words of wisdom to all of the wives and moms out there. i'm sure that iffin i took the time to think about it i could come up with something more profound than, say, don't try to fry chicken when you're nekkid, or maybe that, when it comes to the wee ones, pop rocks and pop tarts do not a balanced breakfast make. but this morning i think the most important thing i have to share is this: have good friends.
you see, i'm not much on making many friends. i know, gasp!, right? no really, being an only child pretty much fashioned me into something of a loner. i mean, hey, unlike many women i have met, i enjoy my own company. i don't usually need a lot of companionship, so i don't usually seek it. however, i somehow ended up with the sort of personality that they say is the type to "never meet a stranger." that's a nice way of saying i have verbal diarrhea. if it comes up [in my head] it comes out [of my mouth] -- i'm sure you get the picture. anyhoo, i talk to talk. to anyone. at any time. smockdaddy complains that everyone down at the tom thumb knows all about our business because i can't keep my mouth shut. funny thing is, i don't usually know what's going on with others. not because i don't care or don't listen, but because -- well, iffin i sleep between conversations with someone, i've lost everything that was said. i think this has something to do with trying to keep up with the lives and schedules of six children, but i'm not sure. my mantra: if i don't write it down, it didn't or won't happen. this is why i have to carry my "brain book" at all times. it keeps all of my "notes to self" and important thingies in it. if i ever lose it, my goose is cooked.
as i was trying to say, friends are totally important. i know lots of people. heck, i'm the avon lady, so i know lots of people. but, just because you know lots of people, does not mean you've befriended lots of people. in fact, i have very few friends. but, the few i do have, like mamaT and lamamacita, i consider "keepers" and that's no joke. i'm fiercely loyal to them and i imagine they feel the same. "keepers" are the sort of friends that love you and support you, no matter how stupid or silly or shallow you might be. they love you even when you are unlovely. i am, of course, speaking for myself; but, you get the gist. i am so grateful, in particular, for these two women with whom i share this corner of blogdom. they are beautiful, smart, and holy women. women who love me where i am, but who inspire me to be better. to be more. God in heaven, what a blessing!
iffin you don't have a mamaT and a lamama, i highly recommend you run out and find you some right fast.
discussing abortion with "pro-choice" people. every time i do it just makes me sick, sick, sick inside. i know these people. heck, i even love some of them. and it makes me physically ill, like a blow to my guts, to know that someone i hold in high esteem can be so outrageously mistaken when it comes to a subject as significant as human life. it hurts my heart to know people who can be so callused about it. abortion is ugly to me. truly selfish and hideous. and when the beautiful veneer of my beautiful friends rips back to expose this butt-ugly side of them, it shocks and saddens me. i literally tremble. i know that i hide ugly, too, and it is what hopefully keeps me remotely humble. i wish i didn't have to become so emotionally involved in this issue. does it have to be such an emotional issue? i know really smart people who hold radically different sides in this debate. what is an emo catholic like me supposed to do?
i was getting big d ready for kindergarten, gm ready for preschool, and gk (only a year and a half at the time) just ready. because our friends knew that smockdaddy and i didn't watch local television, i received one call after another telling me to turn on the television. the third call was my friend who knew that smockdaddy had boarded a plane that morning bound for new york city. what she heard was dulles airport, but what she thought she heard was "a dallas airport." i was duly freaked out much like the rest of the world, but maintained as much calm as i could. i turned on the television just in time to see the second plane plunge into the towers. i turned the television off and continued getting the children ready to leave for school because, according to smockdaddy's flight time, i figured he was still midair and wouldn't be able to answer his phone anyway.
as i walked the children towards the car and was about to shut the front door, our phone rang again. i figured it was another person calling to tell me about the horrible news that i did not want to hear, so i closed the door. i don't know how to explain it, but i heard that small still inner voice that said "answer the phone." i ran to the phone and picked it up with shaky hands, "hello?"it was smockdaddy, "it's me. what the hell is going on?
"where are you?"
"our plane was grounded. what's going on?"
by this time i was so happy to know he was okay, my jaws were shaking so hard from the adrenaline that i couldn't respond.
"i'm at the airport in atlanta. all the airport televisions are blacked out. people are freaking out all over the place trying to find out what is going on. what's happened? have we been attacked?"
i explained the very little that i knew the best i could and told him to keep in touch as much as possible. he reminded me "you know what to do if all hell breaks loose" and then told me to take the smocklings to school, "keep things as normal for them as possible."
after i dropped big d and gm off at school, i called my stepfather -- who lived only one city block from the children's school -- and asked if i could join him, explaining, "i want to be close to the children just in case. and, if the world is gonna end today, i don't want to be alone."
as we watched the television together, i turned to my dad. "i can't believe all debris that's falling. are those papers or what?" i asked. my dad just shook his head.
"what?" i stared back at the screen. my brain could not register what i was seeing.
my dad was the absolute strongest man i knew. he was a depression-era rough and tumble good ol' boy from oklahoma. he'd seen a helluva lot in his day. at that moment, i couldn't remember ever having seen him cry. his blue eyes filled with tears and somehow i knew. i finally realized that what i was seeing were people. terrified, desperate people jumping to their deaths. with baby nursing in my lap, i sat next to my father and we cried together in total silence as we watched the towers fall.
so i'm hopin' it's okay i post this here coolmoe graphic.
so why is it that all the unintelligent and surly people have jobs? i mean, iffin we're in a recession and the economy is in such an all-get-out mess, why aren't all the smart, happy people applying for jobs down ta'the supertarget?
i love me some supertarget. lawd knows i do. but i can guarandamntee you that i don't shop there for the service. answer me this: is it a requirement on the supertarget job application that you (a) must sport either a dramatic neck tattoo(1) or a skin-collar fashioned from hickeys, and that you (b) hold a degree in determined detachment or at least have a g.e.d. in the art of dogged indifference? i mean, is there a disclaimer stating that you can proffer customers nothing more engaging than monosyllabic grunts? because, i swear that every single employee that i have ever encountered behind a register at our supertarget fits this bill.(2)
i'm a pretty chatty cathy. smockdaddy says i'm the sort who never meets a stranger. i'll admit, i am rather proud of my ability to elicit at least a grin or a giggle out of just about anybody breathing. but at supertarget? forget it, mac. the lady who helped me - and i use both the terms lady and helped, ooohhh sooo loosely - with my purchase last week scarcely even acknowledged my presence; rather, she kvetched to the ape leaning against the counter behind her while she mindlessly slid my products across the scanner. and when she was finished? she tossed the fabuloso floor cleaner bottle in the little baggie with my mrs. baird's (oh joy) before robotically tapping one ghetto-fabulous fingernail on the little screen thingy showing the purchase total while she scrutinized the muck under the nails of her other gang-sign-tattooed hand.
mind you, i don't expect to be indulged like a guest at the ritz-carlton. i understand that you get what you pay for, but, puh lease. i'm not asking for a song and dance, sweetie, but is eye contact too much to ask for?
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(1) with all due respect to our beautifully branded la mamacita who elevates skin modification to a whole new level. i mean iffin the body art is in latin, it's totally coolmoe and therefore entirely fashiontastic.
(2) the only exception being flo, but she works in the optical mart portion of the store which, if i'm not mistaken, is independent. but, i digress.
