Sometimes I Am Confused. The Rest of the Time, I’m Just an Idiot

The other morning I was a Confused Idiot….

I actually enjoy some forms of momentary confusion.  Sometimes I’ll try to sleep sideways on the bed so that if I wake up, the light from the doorway will be in a weird spot and I wont know where I am.  I LOVE that feeling!

Never really works when I do it on purpose, though.  In High school I used to rearrange my room just to experience some night-time confusion and it seemed to work better when I was young and impressionable.


ANYWAY, Boy has been getting up REALLY early.  Sometimes as early as 4-4:30.  Ugh.

The other morning he got up and sat on the ottoman watching cartoons and sucking on his blanket.  I sat there, bleary-eyed, drinking my coffee.




Suddenly, my phone started ringing.  My phone never rings. And if it does, I NEVER EVER answer it.

I was shocked and frightened and irritated by the noise.




And then I saw who it was.

why are you calling me



And I was like What the heck??

Was he calling me in his sleep??

I realized he must have left his phone somewhere and somebody probably picked it up.  But its one of those crappy old pre-paid flip-phones (he doesn’t believe in phone usage). So who on earth would bother to track down its owner?

I decided, after much sluggish debate, to answer it.




It was a kid on the other end.  My husband must have left it at the park.

The kid started babbling something completely incoherent.

Great. A nice, productive conversation at 5 in the morning.

are you being supervised young child


I figured I should talk to an adult.

But then, a bunch of things happened at once.

I looked up, and the kid on the phone said the exact same thing that MY OWN KID was saying….

oh good grief


uh duhhhhhh




hey you sounds yung


mommy der


who tell you my number



Good grief, Heather!

Why Don’t I Have More Friends???

Aside from the fact that I hide from people, what IS IT that drives the friendlys away?  Is it the size of my feet?

The other day I decided to keep a close eye on myself to see what it is that I do that’s…. wrong.

the way things are


I couldn’t find anything out of the ordinary.

sir mixalot


I’ve seen some ordinary people do some freak-show things in their daily lives but I’m just not like that.




My husband is DEFINITELY weirder than I am…



So i can’t measure my actions against his.




I saw a group of church ladies at the zoo the other day.  They all had kids with them.  I knew them.  Sort of.

I wondered if I could ever squeeze into a group like that.  How do I know?  Its not like I can ask my family.

the inlaws think im weird


Although I’m sure they’d be glad to make me a list….

thirsty weirdo



But they seem to have accepted me as one of their own…




I fit in pretty well.







glad shes not MY kid


my tiny happy place



I don’t know.  Maybe I have different values.  I have certain things I like to do with my time.




My time is absolutely precious to me.

home from work



I don’t want to waste it shopping.  Or whatever.




vile things



Gene, if you’re reading this, AVERT YOUR EYES while I give the entire world (70 people) a sneak peak of your birthday present!

brittanys hand


It will be so fabulous I can’t even stand it.

In other news, I found these awesome glasses at work that have a little mustache hanging from them by cute little chains!

rad stache


I bought them to wear to church!

And I had to drag my sweet little Boy to the doc today because apparently he’s allergic to the entire universe.  :(

right before bed


One of us is exhausted.


I Talk About Boobs and Pot

Sometimes The Dark Knight is all…


And I’m like…


How do you REMEMBER that far back??

I partially blame my lack of childhood memories on the homeschool.  I have no idea how old I was in 4th grade.  I don’t remember turning 8. Nothing ever changed.  No new teacher. No new friends.  Nada.  There were no major landmarks in there (which can be a good thing sometimes…).

I do have a few stand-out memories.  Like the first time I saw boobs on TV.

We were only allowed to watch one show:


Sesame Street.

Occasionally Mr. Rogers or Reading Rainbow.  But  “adult”  TV started right after Reading Rainbow, and as soon as my mom heard the I Dream of Jeannie intro music, there she was, hitting the off-switch.  I still haven’t seen an episode of I Dream of Jeannie, but I can only assume its filled with fornication and genocide.

One evening, my father rented a movie.  Because it had boobs in it, I even remember the name: They Call Me Bruce (as in Bruce Lee).

So there we were, watching a Kung Fu comedy.  Me, my brother, and my dad.  Quite suddenly and unexpectedly, two things happened at once.

1- Boobs appeared on the screen

2- My mom walked around the corner.


I remember the movie.

I remember the boobs.

I remember the looks on everyones faces.


But I remember very little else .

And even though there are more memories from my teenage years, some really crucial information is missing.  Big, memorable events have been wiped from my brain.

My sister experiences this phenomenon every time I see her.


But that issue is at least 75% environmental.

Its because of The Pot Years.

Most people have a couple of wild years in there.  I wasn’t a “partier”.  Never drank.  I just smoked the pot.  Which obliterated my remaining ability to retain memories.  And wasted my time.  I spent the better part of five years digging through my purse…. I think…..


If you’ve ever searched for anything while high, you know.

I would plunge my arm into the depths of my purse…..


….and I would dig and dig and dig and dig and dig and dig and dig and dig….



…and dig and dig and dig and dig and dig and dig and dig and dig and dig and dig and dig and dig…


…and dig and dig and dig and dig and dig…. and then realize I not only had NO IDEA what I was digging for or how long I’d been digging.  Had it been more than 20 minutes?


I’d stare hard into my bag, trying to figure out what it was I was looking for.

What did I want?

Why was I here?

How long had I been staring into my purse?

All I was doing was groping various objects in my bag with no plan or purpose.


And, well, that was just fine.


But soon enough I realized that I was losing my mind, literally, and so I grew up.  You know, pretty much…..

Now, 17 years later, my only brain-eaters are my children.

And my mind is in worse shape than it ever was before.

Lord help me.


PS- still no working spellcheck.




Mar 6, 2013 - I WERE HOMESCHOOLED    24 Comments

One Hundred Pictures of Me Kissing My Dog

I have two blog posts in the works.  One is a collaboration with my blogfriend Vesta Vayne over at The Cowardly Feminist.  The other is just… one of my usual.

But man, every single thing on this planet is distracting me.  Right now I’m sitting on the toilet (not using it, only sitting on it) while my kids throw gallons of water at each other and scream in the bathtub.  My feet are soaked.  But while I’m here I’ll give you a few snapshots of all my blogging obstaclkes…. see, now why didn’t my spellcheck punch me in the face for that one?  I’m going to leave that typo dangling in the universe for all to see.  Take THAT, spellcheck.

So basically it goes like this….Oh, I think I’ll sketch out a little….


Ah, some free time!  Maybe I’ll work on my blog…..



Finally! 8 o’clock! Time to….


Alone at last with my iPad! I shall now….


I really should finish this last post.  But first!


Now please blog yes?


And that about sums up my entire life.

So instead of a real post, here are a few  random shots I found in my Africa folder of me kissing various creatures.  And other things.  Just in case you are bored and literally have nothing better to look at.

I’m sorry.

Ok here…

Kissing The Wump


Pregnant and too fat to sit upright in the stifling Africa heat.


Pregnant and hanging laundry on the porch with The Doon.


Christmas Morning


Chilling out with my first baby ever


Siggy and The Doon


All my belongings


Loving on The Wump


Poor Dumb Wumpus and The Doon in his sweater


I Flew back from Africa, Dressed up as a waitress and surprised Cathy for her B-day. One of my favorite pictures ever.


Wumpus had to stay home….


aaaaannnd….me with knots in my hair…..


Once again, I apologize.  See you again SOON!

I Say Meep to You!

I can’t imagine having the ability/compulsion to talk NON-STOP.

For some people, words just dribble out of their mouths like….. dribbly stuff.

I spoke to a girl today who had that ability/inability-to-cork-it.  She was telling me about a fabulous restaurant and it became clear that she wasn’t sure of the exact name of the place.


Did that slow her down?

No. It did not.


In fact, various names came spilling out of her pie-hole one after the other.  Each with a tone of total certainty and conviction.



I mean, how do you think that fast, let alone SPEAK THE WORDS .

People like her commonly share other qualities.  Sometimes they’ll ask a question, but while you are answering, their face is still making noises.



And they are often unfazed by any form of disagreement.


There must be something scientific behind this.  You talkers have a brain that follows your mouth.  Or maybe it pushes the words out as its forming them.


My brain is such a jerk when it comes to sharing.


Today Siggy came out into the living room having dressed himself.  I happened to have the camera open on my phone and I got it on video.

He was wearing his shirt as shorts and his underwear were on his head.

I watched the video a little while later (after I’d sent it out to the whole fam), and I was appalled by my inability to narrate.


I was also looking through my pictures and realized that most of my photos are of me by myself.


And most of them I took myself for the days when I blogged my daily life.


And half the time I’m doing something….weird.

There are no pictures of me in a bar with all my girlfriends….


I am such a loner.

I blame it on my words.