A Musing Mother 6

Check out the good looking crew.  Just to clarify.  I'm the pretty one. There's a little mountain resort in Northern Utah that is invaded every July by this group of people. We are an intimidating bunch. 5 years ago my brother brought his Nepalese bride to the United States.  She lived in a country where she had no expectation to ever drive a car.  She bought her food daily from the market and ate it.  She taught English, although her accent was so strong when she arrived I questioned her grasp of the language.  We tried to be friendly and accepting.  We ended up scaring the daylights out of her. She thought we were crazy.  Her words, not mine. Although I think she tolerated me a little better than the others because I had the brand new fair-haired baby that she continued to steal.  She wanted a blond haired, blue eyed baby and wondered what her chances were now that she married an American. We take turns cooking for the family dinners.  We noticed she wasn't eating.  In fa

1. Spend the previous 3 months stalking the meat sales and filling up freezer with a minimum of half a cow, 25 chickens and two pig tenderloins. 2. Go on vacation for 6 days. The 6 hottest days of the year. 3. Come home and notice the drool from freezer in hot garage. 4. Throw out hundreds of dollars of food. Mutter nice curse words. 5. Get to tenderloin. Not so nice curse words. 6. "Hello, Sister Taylor!" Stop muttering curse words until nice neighbor girl leaves garage. 7. Try singing Mary Poppins "Spoon Full of Sugar." 8. Get shoe stuck in sticky Otter Pop juice. Start cursing again. 9. Serve spaghetti and Prego sauce for dinner without meat.

Does this wet suit make my butt look fat? Don't answer that.

I blame it on macramé.  I was looking for a little craft to keep the kids busy on vacation while the men golfed.  I was thinking of ever so clever crafts like macramé, modge podge, and stringing plastic beads onto plastic string.  Art is just not my strong suit.  But that's how I ended up in the craft store and face to face with Jeb.  Yup.  Jeb was in the craft store.   Or maybe it was Jesse Duke.  At any rate, he was a nice plump elderly gentleman sitting in his jazzy wheelchair while a sales clerk named Ashli (with a star on the "i") cut out vinyl lettering for a pitcher (not picture) he brought in. I didn't mean to make eye contact.  I really didn't. "Hey!" he wheezed through his portable oxygen, "Do you know this pitcher?" I squinted at the decoupage tile picture and said, "It's a Greg Olsen painting." He waved his hand impatiently. "Do you know which one?"  I told him it was "O, Jerusalem." "No! It&#

I have a few alter egos.  I don't want to reveal too much because I live with a social worker, my father is a psychologist, and I surround myself with too many people who own and regularly refer to the DSM IV. It is easy to conclude then, why I choose to feature a guest post today. A few of her disassociative personalities alter egos remind me of my own. Without further ado, I present you with Lisa Rosenberg , a.k.a., Gail, from Corporate. She's Got Your Number Gail From Corporate kicks ass and takes names and then burns the piece of paper that the names are written on. Gail From Corporate will explain that you are not doing the company a favor by letting them pay you. Gail From Corporate will fire your lazy butt without consulting the in-house management. Gail From Corporate does that thing where she uses two fingers to point at her eyes then point at you to let you know that she is watching you and you are likely going down. Gail From Corporate is my alter-ego.

A weekend at the cabin... I honestly don't know what else to say.

On October 1, 1962, James Meredith became the first person of African descent to attend University of Mississippi, affectionately referred to as "Ole Miss." In Fall, 2006, Collins Tuohy, rich white 110 lb. athlete started college at Ole Miss with her brother, Michael Oher, rich black 300 lb. 6'4" athlete. That same semester, the two further crossed racial lines by having Michael and his teammates lunch at the Kappa Delta sorority.  "The Blind Side" is a delightful book about NFL Ravens right tackle, Michael Oher.  One child out of a gaggle, a drug addicted mother had lost custody of Michael and her multiple other children.  Once in the custody of the state, CPS lost track of him in his early teens.  Cared for by a smattering of helpful people, nobody took responsibility for his well being besides Michael himself.  Still, Michael did have enough connections to often find himself a warm couch or floor to sleep and someone helped Michael gain entrance to a pri

Here's what I missed while I was sick: I don't care who you are or what your feelings are regarding cats. You've got to feel a little sorry for that poor animal. Her head is being restrained by a 5 year old boy for a picture. No pictures of quaint family picnics or firework displays.  No parade (although one of our children was in the big one) or sparklers.   Just art.

Independence Day was nice. I heard the fireworks display outside and protected the big, scary, cowering lab in the bathroom. Sick all day. Sick all night. Got up and fooled with my header on book blog. I can hear my friend the magpie talking outside my window. He's like my personal rooster announcing the birth of a new day. Wish I had a gun.

No soliciting.  Do I need to define it?  This means that if I hear a knock or a doorbell ring, I will come to the door and it darn well better not be someone trying to sell me miracle cleaner/pest control/magazine subscription/overpriced books. If I am sitting on the floor, folding laundry, I will stand up and walk across the house to answer your call.  If I have encountered a small miracle and have finally sat down in the bathroom by myself and you ring the doorbell or knock, I will laboriously dress my bottom half and come to you. Do you really want to face my wrath after I felt comfortable enough to go then felt forced to stop all attempts and redress? If, by some amazing miracle, I find a quiet moment and I start to doze on my bed, and you ring the doorbell, knock, or otherwise disturb me, I will come to the door.  Maybe.  If you ring the doorbell again and I answer it and see you, there will be hell to pay. This little sign means do not deign to disturb my home. I don't give a

The long, empty summer days.  The days I wanted for months have arrived.  I get to sleep in.  I have little schedule to follow and I want to enjoy the languidness of it.  But the kids are bored.  Not all of them and not all of the time.  Well, one of them seems to always be bored. There is tension in the air and we seem to be one step away from a breakdown. Last night it happened.  She snapped.  The anxiety she'd been living with the past month was too much for her.  I brought her home from her cousins' house, cutting the trip short for the other kids.  It was getting late anyway.  I was speechless.  I didn't know what she needed.  I didn't know what she wanted.  I didn't know how to parent her.  We talked but nothing was resolved. This morning she was just a little too loud.  She's still agitated.  What is she wanting?  We're walking on eggshells knowing it's about to blow.  She's trying so hard.  She cleaned out her closet and dresser to sell her c