Do I need to tell you how much I love my nephew? He falls into the "amazing" range so easily.
The resiliency and stamina, driving skills, everything..........I love him.

Christmas

Christmas is the time of year that pomposity reigns supreme in my family. My sheer awe of my rogue sisters perpetual facebook status updates is living proof that dysfunction still rules. As she continually creates the facade that all is well, ( indeed, perfect would be more accurate ) she is one small step away from spending the beginning of the new year on the 4th floor at Swedes, ordering bland hospital foods and chain smoking with other mentally ill malcontents. I am still floored that we shared the same parents and similar upbringing, and even more stunned that we may share DNA. My personal theory is that Marlin Perkins dropped her off as a cruel experiment, unfortunately, this is not likely. As much as I love my family, I can honestly say that I would not recommend even WADING in my gene pool. My Christmas wish is that my sister would have a dawning of reality and that I would not be required to hit her in the mouth to bring it about.

Home shopping

I am deeply concerned about my current fascination with all of the shop at home networks popping up on my cable tv. HSN, QVC....you know the ones. As I channel surf to avoid watching the barrage of ads that surface every three minutes in the middle of my favorite show, I end up, ironically, watching the only commercial that lasts longer than the most syndicated of soap operas. I do not watch soap operas because they have no end or beginning, and hold no interest for me at all. I will, however, gaze mindlessly at the sparkle of Lucite bracelets and huge clunky rings for hours before I realize that I have been sucked in. What is that? They must be geared exclusively for women, because my couch commando grip on the remote control goes on complete hiatus. I may be trying to figure out how many ways one can explain a piece of gaudy, brightly colored plastic as a necessity, however, it is probably the comfort of the home shopping hawkers voice and the knowledge that whatever they happen to be selling, I know they will eventually bore me to sleep. Have you ever NOT seen them selling to women? Even the camcorders can be ordered in pink! I know why it is not as appealing to men, if they just included some more explosions, the male demographic would be much more likely to tune in. So, now that they know the secret, I will need a kickback. Since I have shared my two cents, I will need at least three for sharing....

Pets

I have a dog that I love dearly, and much to my chagrin, he loves to take one mouthful of food after another from his bowl from the dining room, to eat it in front of the television. (Dropping kibbles and bits along the way.) His favorite time to do this is right after I have vacuumed. I know that I, myself, enjoy eating in front of the tv, but really! Why don't I move the bowls you ask? Because eating from the bowl just wont do!  I have tried it, and he still drops sharp particles of dog food all over. It would be convenient if he could just keep it in one area...I am not opposed to picking it up from the floor. But I never find it until it is lodged deeply in my foot and my hands are full of something so I cannot dislodge it and I am obligated to hop on one foot to find a chair and some peace of mind. I do love him, and wish that he could possibly be my dog forever, but his life expectancy is limited and I must deal with that.  Thank the Lord for animals, that indulge us in tranquility, if only momentarily, and sheer frustration the rest of the time......they are Gods earthly blessings and saving grace!

What can I say about the importance of family? there can never be enough of them and they can never reach a crescendo of irritation quite enough for me. not only do they have the advantage of learning exactly which buttons to push, they know how and when to push them. this knowledge is obtained by their constant presence and sheer determination. because of their DNA equivalent, they are exquisitely keen at finding the exact spot to insert knife and twist.

I am surely aware of the dull throbbing of my own awakening.  I am also aware that I am constantly alone in my beliefs, there is not another person on the planet that can, or will concur regarding NWO, etc...is there not a man aware?

Underpants Land

I live in Underpants Land. I am not the President or proprietor, I would probably be described as "cleaning crew". The reason I have dubbed our abode as Underpants Land is that you cannot swing a dead cat without hitting a pair of underpants due to the constant dropping of clothing by my 10 yr old niece. I have picked up at least 3 pairs of underpants every day for the last three years. I don't know whether they are clean or not as I use a stick and promptly deposit them into the hamper. My question is....how does one go through that many pairs on a daily basis? More importantly, why is it referred to as a pair when there is only one item? Oh well, I do realize that this is only one small infraction that is added to our daily dysfunction. On any given day you can find my sister, her child or my dog by following the trail they leave. With my sister, it is a trail of sugar, coffee creamer or coffee stains on the counter top. My niece, of course, the endless stream of clothing, and my dear dog who has found it much more comfortable to move his dog food one mouthful at a time (dropping half of it en route) to an area NOT BY HIS BOWL. I thought at first, he was moving it to be in front of the tv or closer to myself, but that theory is a bust since I have found sharp dog food crumbles lodged in my foot in every room of the house. And Yes I have moved his bowl, but again he must eat NOT BY HIS BOWL. Suffice it to say that there are never any missing persons or dogs in Underpants Land.

Nick

When I called my Dad yesterday to wish him a happy birthday, he was en route to the dog park, on the golf cart, taking Nicholas (their miniature poodle) to go to the bathroom. Now Really. ....What other dog do you know that gets a chauffeur driven ride to the dumper? I asked him if he was required to wear a chauffeur hat and if Nick did, on occasion, bark out "Once around the block, Jeeves". No wonder this dog finds it beneath him to take a walk to relieve himself. Often, my dad is exasperated because the dog will not move at all. Most dogs look forward to a walk. They relish it! Nick, instead looks down his nose, and waits for his transportation to arrive. You know that once they get to Pearl Lake, (the summer spot) the man is going to have to physically carry the dog. So for any of you who wonder exactly who wears the pants in that family...I would have to say the only one who doesn't wear pants at all. Hats off Nick...you have done a better job of whipping that man into shape than my Mom, my sisters or myself.

Dog Gone

I woke up this morning looking just like Bill the Cat from the old cartoon series Outland. This is attributed to several things, namely the last hellish 36 hours, lack of sleep and still maroonish hair. After the 6 hour drive with my irascible niece and chain smoking sister, visit to Walmart and all day irritation, the evening was capped with a hefty dose of SHOOT ME. My only solace, lately, has been my pc. Save for that I would already have jumped. My sister insisted on watching the movie 2012....what a waste of time. 475,000 near death experiences by several main characters in just under 2 hours. Brilliant. Then in her sheer awe and absorption of said movie, allowed my dog to consume an entire roast. So great. Now I have to do all the dishes from the disappearing dinner, My dog has been back to the yard making several more unneeded deposits (which are accompanied by fragrant bursts of gas and breath that could set fire to asbestos) and I had peanut butter and pickle tortillas for supper. The perfect end to the perfect day always makes perfect sense.

Big Bad Day

Do you ever have a day when it seems the entire world has crawled up your rear end and is stirring something akin to diarrhea? I have had zero sleep, drove 6 hours to retrieve my niece from her father (we have to..it is court ordered) listened to all 18 of her personalities fight with each other all the way home, then had to deal with the idiocy of walmart loonies. Scary. My niece had a birthday and we bought her a bike. So here is where the sheer embarrassment really kicked in. Whenever my sisters car door opens, the garbage that spills out, spurs a rendering of the theme song from Sanford and Son. If you remember, they owned a junk yard. Buh, buh, bunnah.. So loading the bike in front of the busiest place on earth I was able to showcase the overflowing cigarette butts, empty pop cans and random accumulated garbage that makes my sisters car look like an episode of Hoarders. The icing on the cake was just an hour prior, my pants had torn due to long wear (they are my favorite) and I had to strategically arrange my shirt and purse to avoid flashing the public. Add to that my newly maroon colored hair and sleepless, vacant stare. I don't think a beer is gonna do it. I need a xanax!