The Grand-Fabulous Ava's 4th Birthday Party

Cicada shedding it's shell

My daughter-in-law took this picture this morning of a cicada shedding it's shell. Look at the part that was covering its eyes.  Freaky!  Now, I can't get "Invasion of the Body Snatchers" out of my head.

"We need to check the pipes!"

Friday night my 4 year-old grand-fabulous-daughter Ava and I had a sleepover.  As we drove into my neighborhood, I noticed water pouring down the sidewalk of an unoccupied townhouse. 

I said, “Wow!  A pipe must have burst. “ 

Ava asked, “A pipe?” 

“Yeah,” I said, “We need to call somebody.”

In the thirty seconds between seeing the house with the busted pipe and driving into my garage, Ava fretted about the leak.  She asked who we were going to call and what was going to happen.  I told her we would call the City of Beaumont and someone would come out to fix the pipe.  When we got in my house, I called the city and was told that they had many calls about busted pipes because of the drought we've been experiencing, so it might be a while before someone checked on the pipe.

Ava immediately went into action.  “We need to call my mom and dad!  We need to tell them we called Beaumont Texas The City!  We need to go check on the house again.  We need to check the pipes!”

We put our things away and walked down the street to the scene of the great busted pipe incident.  We sat on the sidewalk and waited for a “Beaumont Texas The City” repairman to arrive.  When he got there, he began explaining to me what would happen next.  I said, “Oh, it’s not my house.  We’re just nosy.”  He said a crew would be out as soon as possible, but probably not until the next morning.  Disappointed, we went back home.

At 6:20 a.m. the next morning, Ava jumped out of bed and announced, “Grandma!  I’m ready to put on my day clothes.  We have to go check the pipes.”

We checked on the pipe several times that morning and, at one point, brought chairs and water and Ava’s baby doll Mary and hung out down there for a while.  When we decided the pipe wasn’t going to be fixed before lunch, we left the situation to the fine people of “Beaumont Texas The City” and went to lunch at my mom’s house.

When we got to my mom’s, Ava explained the dire pipe situation to my mom and my sister including the fact that the man from “Beaumont Texas The City” said we were “rosie.”  We all looked at each other.  Rosie? Ah.  Not "rosie."  Nosy.  I had told the repairman that we were being nosy.  I’m guessing that at some point in Ava’s long life, someone has called her “Nosy Rosie.”  The logic of a 4 year old.


The next day, our family got together for a pre-Fourth of July celebration.  Ava and I went in the back yard and found that my mom had tiny bugs all over her patio.  Not thinking, I said, “Rue needs to call somebody.”

Once again, Ava sprang into action.  She ran into the house, grabbed “Rue” (that’s what she calls my mom whose name is Ruby), grabbed anybody else who would follow her and picked up a cordless phone from my mom’s nightstand.  She led everyone outside to the patio while punching numbers on the phone. 

She told everybody, “Don’t be afraid!  It’s not ants!  It’s just doodlebugs!  Everybody relax!  I’m calling Beaumont Texas The City!  It’s okay!”

I looked at Jamie, Ava’s mom, and said, “She’s very pro-active, isn’t she?”

Jamie just nodded her head and smiled.

Suddenly, Ava shouted, “She’s talking to me!  Beaumont Texas The City is talk….”

Then, she stopped and listened. 

She turned to us and said, “She says she’s sorry.”

We all looked at each other and looked back at Ava.  Ava handed the phone to me and then went back into the house to tend to other important business.

When I took the phone, I could hear the recording, “I’m sorry.  The number you have reached is not in service.  Please hang up and dial again.”

Ava was satisfied with the obvious deep concern that the anonymous woman at "Beaumont Texas The City" had with Rue’s doodlebug infestation.  All she needed was to hear a friendly voice say they were sorry.  Life is simple when you're four.

Thanks a lot, Charlie Sheen

Last night, I dreamed Charlie Sheen was trying to get me to help him steal drugs and hide money.  For some reason, the money was in the form of a $10,000 check.  I successfully hid the check in a super secret place...my wallet..., but I forgot where I hid the drugs. Luckily, the drug guys and the police who were chasing us didn’t care about me, they were only after Charlie.  


When I got bored with Charlie’s bullshit, my dream changed to me hanging out with the boy next door who I grew up with.  We got married, but I kept forgetting to tell people I was married.  Probably not a good way to start a marriage. 


With all the running around with Charlie Sheen and the stress from my secret marriage, I woke up feeling like I had been...well...running from the cops with Charlie Sheen and hiding a secret marriage all night.  


Thanks a lot for ruining my sleepy time, Charlie Sheen, and sorry about the whole secret marriage thing, Steve.

I am a Cyber Bitch

Last week I was involved in an event which required coordinating people from Austin, Lake Charles, Hawaii and points local to meet at a specific location at a specific time. 

This morning, through a brief e-mail exchange, two of my chick friends and I were able to take the first steps in fulfilling our destiny to stalk...I mean...to meet...Adam Levine in September at The Woodlands.

Do you have any idea how complicated it would have been to accomplish these tasks without e-mail?  Without Facebook?  I'm sure that you do. 

I have a friend who is not on Facebook, who does not "do texting" and who constantly informs me, "I never read my e-mail."  It gets on my last nerve any time I have to contact that woman for anything.  Did you hear/read what I just said/wrote?  It annoys me to have to pick up a teeny tiny cell phone, punch a few numbers and say actual words in my actual voice to a dear friend.

I'm such a cyber bitch.


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Carnival Conquest Cruise - May 2011

Click here for photos of my Carnival Conquest cruise May 1 - 8, 2011 with my mom, Aunt Gladys, Aunt Bernice, Aunt Hazel and Aunt Dolores. We left from Galveston, Texas and sailed to Montego Bay, Jamaica, Grand Cayman and Cozumel, Mexico. Below is a slideshow. Stories later.

Google Chrome

I highly recommend that you install and use Google Chrome as your internet browser.

My laptop was locking up at least twice a night when I was on the internet and I thought I was on the way to needing a new computer.  Since I started using Google Chrome as my browser, no more problems.

Plus, you can download and play Angry Birds on your PC.

Win, win.


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Bitch Moment of the Day: "Who cares?"

My Bitch Moment of the Day is directed toward the geniuses who go into online message boards, news article comment strings and Facebook conversation posts that pertain to such things as American Idol, Charlie Sheen and Royal Weddings to post the brilliant and insightful observation of:  "Who cares?" 

Guess what, asshole.  We don't care that you don't care. You think we don't have a life?  I would say you are the one whose life we should be questioning if you have nothing better to do than cruise the internet for posts and articles about things you allegedly don't care about and then globbing up the comment string with your two words of brilliance.

You want to share your disgust about Charlie Sheen or your boredom with the royal family? Knock yourself out.  Posting the idiotic and arrogant "who cares" is just plain lazy, not to mention unoriginal. 

And, it pisses me off. 

Not that you care.


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Et il commence…

Aunt Dolores, mom (Ruby), Aunt Bernice, Aunt Gladys, Aunt Hazel

I will soon leave on a cruise with my mom and her four sisters who range in age from 65 to 80 years old. I have been instructed by Aunt Dolores, “the oldest,” that I am not to introduce the group by saying, “They’re all sisters. SHE’S the oldest.” I told her that I’ll tell everyone they’re quintuplets.  All born simultaneously. Like chihuahuas out of a clown car.  A true miracle of nature.

In the last few weeks, two of the sisters have had dental emergencies involving broken teeth. My sister Bonnie asked the other three sisters if they had experienced any broken teeth recently. Aunt Hazel gave Bonnie a puzzled look and said, “If I break a tooth, I just drop ‘em off in the morning and tell them I’ll pick ‘em up after work.” Note to self: don’t worry about Aunt Hazel’s teeth.

Yesterday, mom was describing our cabins to three of her sisters. I wasn’t really listening to the conversation until I heard my mom say, “There’s a couch in the room, so if anybody picks up a man, the other sister will have to sleep on the couch.”

Wait. What?

Aunt Gladys said, “Man? Hell, I’m on vacation. What do I want a man for?” She’s one of the married ones.

Aunt Dolores, “the oldest” of the quintuplets, said, “Bring them back to the room? That’s crazy. If anybody finds a man, go to his room. You people aren’t thinking straight. Don’t bring him back to your room where there are four other women.”

Holy. Crap.

I thought I was going to be concerned with broken teeth, broken hips and blood sugar levels. Now, I find I’m going to have to worry about curfews, bed checks and booty calls.

I think I’m going to need a bigger journal.

Pour être continue…

This and That

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I would like people to be implanted with chips like the ones implanted in dogs and cats which identifies their owners.  I went to a funeral earlier this week and my friends and I were trying to figure out who some of the people were.  I thought how much simpler it would be if people had implants with their family tree on it that we could scan from a distance with our smart phones and know who everybody is.  What about privacy you ask?  Is anything really private anymore?  I'd rather people have my accurate information than make stuff up.

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I would also like to have all of my medical information on another implanted chip so that when I go to a new doctor I won't have to fill out all those stupid medical history forms ever again.

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When I was an AT&T customer, I was constantly bombarded with requests that I go "paperless."  I like paperless.  I always go paperless when I'm given the option.  So, of course, I went paperless.  Now that I've cut the cord with AT&T and no longer have a land line telephone, I get at least three non-paperless mailings a week from AT&T begging me to come back.  WTF, AT&T?  I'm now begging you to go paperless and leave me the hell alone.

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I was born and raised Catholic, but I do and don't do lots of things that might not get me into Catholic heaven right away:  I'm divorced, I used to use birth control, I don't go to church every week and there are all of those sex things that I won't mention because my mom and my son read my blog.  If my fellow Catholics can't eventually pray me out of purgatory and get me into Catholic heaven, I'm hoping I can get into Methodist heaven.  I know people there, too.

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This and That

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I'm going to tell you people one more time.  After you park your car in the parking lot where I park every day, do not...I repeat...do NOT...walk out of said parking lot right smack in the middle of the driveway that I'm trying to pull into so that I can park in that parking lot. 

I won't run over you today.  I might not even run over you tomorrow.  However, mark my words, one of these days I'm going to be up to my ears with dumbasses and I will run over you.  Intentionally.  With malice and aforethought.

You've been warned.

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I love the sound of a sizzle.  Water accidentally hitting a curling iron.  A coffee pot being put back on the electric burner at the office.  Checking the oil in a frying pan or an iron with a sprinkle of water to see if they're hot enough.  Bacon.

I can't explain it.

Szzzzzzzssssssssssszzzzzzzzzzzzz-zzle.

Love it.

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When Ava gets in the top of her wooden swingset, she goes to the side, leans out ever so slightly and yells, "Top of the woild!"

Every.  Single.  Time.

I love that, too.

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Ava and Lucas 4-10-11

March (and a little bit of April) Madness

I won the office March Madness Bracket contest!  No money.  Just cookies.  That's my bracket up there.  I base all my picks on instinct and blind luck.  I rock.


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I'm Conflicted

I'm convinced that everyone would look better with natural hair.  No more weaves.  No more perms.  No more color.  All a person needs is a good haircut, shampoo and conditioner.  I think people would be amazed at how great their natural hair really is.  Most women haven't seen their actual real hair since they were about twelve years old.

I'm convinced that the world would be better without chatty disc jockeys.  I've posted about this before.  The only information I need between the music is the name of the song and who sang it.  Even that I can find on my own now with the flip of a Google.  Don't even get me started on the "morning zoo" faction of the radio world.

I'm convinced that we don't need news anchors.  That goes for local, national and entertainment news, especially entertainment news.  I read recently that a station in Houston has gone back to the old newsreel style of reporting the news.  Sounds fabulous.

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My conflict arises from the fact that some of my very good friends hold these very same jobs that would be eliminated in my hateful scenario.  Most of the people who hold these jobs are not making a killing in their chosen profession and they've spent most of their lives dreaming of being a hairdresser or disc jockey or anchorman and training to reach that goal.

I'm a horrible person.

And, I'm conflicted.



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