Mar 19, 2013 - Random Thoughts    35 Comments

What, you don’t like to chow on dog fecal matter?

So, the good news is that I FINALLY got my ipad fixed.  Yay!

The bad news is that the boys have their grubby paws all over it now.  Not for long…..

It was so fun to sit down today to a clear, smooth screen.  I thought I’d give my cartoon self a little freshening-up too.

You know, a new do.  A new t-shirt.  Now that my hair is so much longer, I feel like I should more accurately represent myself in art form.

Sexytown: Population- Me


Ok, well, actually that more accurately represents my mental self…..

(Mental being the key word….)


Here we go.  A new hairstyle.  A new t-shirt….


Or maybe the “I’ve Given Up On Life” style…..


Or the “Yes I’m 38 years old. Why?” style…..


But I’m not sure.  I’ll have to think about it…..

Today I got a wild hair and started dismantling our house.  Pulled junk out of closets, ripped sheets off beds, etc.  I learned that toddlers will go all grape-nuts if you make a pile of something or move a large piece of furniture.  Today I took the slipcover off the sofa to wash it and I scooted the sofa into the dining area.  You would have thought I set up a trampoline and a swimming pool right in the middle of our house.  The boys went bananas.


And for a while, I could shred my bedroom closets in peace.

But then my name started coming up…..


And eventually my constant intervention was required….


And I had to leave my path of destruction where it was in order to seperate two immature humans.


In other news…. Siggy’s speech impediment…..

Everything “Y” or “S” related starts with an “L”.

Yummy = Lummy

Soup = Loup

Shirt = Lirt

So the other day we got a big hunk of fudge at some crazy fudge place.  We sat outside and I tore off a wad and handed it to Siegfried.


Ummmmmm……… what?




What the… ?!







We need to work on that……

Mar 14, 2013 - Artsy Things    47 Comments

Creating This Blog Post Made Me Nauseous

And its not even a REAL blog post.

It was going to be.  I was going to tell you all about how I’ve been a busy little bee.

But I can’t even THINK THE WORDS busy little bee, without this picture of Juaquin Phoenix (I’m dying a slow death without my spellcheck…) popping up in my head.

From Gladiator: “You’ve been a busy little bee.”


And that movie distracted me for a minute….


And then I started drawing a picture of a bee that my husband designed many many years ago…..


…and literally 5 minutes later, I was ready to blow chunks.

We were in the car driving through the Texas Hill Country.  Now I normally don’t get motion sickness (although I can’t watch home movies without losing my lunch).   I had to walk out of The Constant Gardener because I thought I was going to die. (So needless to say I haven’t seen The Blair Witch Project). But I’m usually FINE in the car…as long as I’m not trying to draw…?

Anyway, I’ll just give you the cliff notes of what I’ve been doing lately.

Uhhhhhhh…….What have I been doing?

Well we DID just drive back from San Angelo, Texas.  Met some family there and had a grand 24 hours.  I have to say though, that driving in the car with two little kids isn’t NEARLY as enjoyable as driving all by myself forever and ever.

On Sunday I drove into Georgetown, which is right outside Austin (about 2 hours from here).  I drove all by myself and it was HEAVEN.

There is a photographer there who agreed to photograph my paintings.  Her name is Kelly Cameron and I was excited to meet her.  Aside from being a creative person, she is also an actress.  And I like the intense, fast-talkers.  I enjoy being around a person who can really act things out.  And boy did she not dissapoint.  I had more fun watching her talk….

Wow. Horrific depiction. I lost my stylus and my back-up just doesn’t quite cut it. Lets see if I can wrassle up a real picture….


Here we go.  This one is better….

Go see her web-site here.  She is awesome!

Anyway, she photographed my stuff (for future print and website use!) and then took a few “artist bio” pics of me that I wish I had worn “funner” clothes for!!

Here are two (behold the gray hairs!).  Which one should I use???



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!

All the People I’ve Barely Known

So there is this middle-aged man in our complex who is afflicted with an (unfortunately) obvious case of OCD.

And not OCD like, “I wash my hands ten times a day, teehee.”

This guy will set his car alarm all the way to his apartment, often coming back out and setting it five or six more times.  When he leaves the house, he usually pulls out of his spot (DIRECTLY IN FRONT OF OUR PLACE) and then pulls over, puts his hazzards on and goes to check his front door.  Then he’ll drive out the gate, make an immediate u-turn and be back inside checking the door again.  Siggy’s constant question is, “Why he do dat?”

Truth is he FASCINATES me. If I could ask him 47 million questions, I would.  But I can’t, really.

There was a guy in Chicago that I called Yelly Guy (because I’m a genius with descriptive names…). We lived above the Dominos pizza on a massively busy intersection and this guy would shop at the Jewel across the street several times a week.  The first time I heard him I had the windows open, but in later years I discovered that I could hear him in the middle of rush hour traffic with the windows shut and barred.

I was schilling out on the sofa when suddenly…


I was like, What the?”  I ran to look and there he was.  Yelly Guy.  Groceries in his hands, a pipe clenched firmly in his mouth.


I bet that yell rattled his teeth.  Broke my heart.  Any time I heard him yelling I went to look and watch.  I always wished I could meet him and ask him all about himself.  Until one day….

He was walking down the sidewalk and two college girls had just passed him when out of nowhere….



Those two girls screamed the kind of screams that I’m SURE included pants-wetting.


I mean, you hear that kind of noise on a city street right behind you and suddenly you’re weeping for all the missed opportunities in your life and begging for a painless, non-humiliating death.

But Yelly Guy was an Angry Yelly Guy. He totally ripped into them.



After that my sense of self-preservation voted against engaging Yelly Guy in a conversation (although even the violent cursing could have been part of the disease….).

I’ve worked with some fairly interesting people over the years as well.  One of the most fascinating was Cowboy.  And yes, that was his name and no I have not changed it.

I was a BBQ-slinging, cocktail waitress for a few years in a blues joint.  Cowboy was a cook and the MOST HELPFUL bus-person I have ever had the pleaseure to know.

He also had the style down.


He never once in all his time there deviated from that outfit.

The kitchen closed at midnight, but he would stay afterwards and bus the tables while we ran around enabling the drunkards.  Cowboy liked to move fast.  And when he did, his life-time supply of keys would rattle like nobody’s business.


In fact, as the night wore on he’d get more wound up and he’d litterally RUN through the restaurant with a tub full of cups and a cigarette hanging out of his mouth.  All the frat-daddys would laugh at him (on lame Frat-daddy music night).  I wanted to punch them in their hairless necks.

But I learned early on that it was best for a 21-year-old woman not to ask too many personal questions of an older…. quirky man.  I just had to wonder……..

Later on I worked for a man named Kenneth (name changed to protect… whoever).  He was funny and creative and hardworking.  I helped him open his flower shop.


A few months later, another man, also named Kenneth, opened a store RIGHT NEXT DOOR.


They were like the angel/demon shoulder-sitters of the gay world.  Such a bizarre coincidence…


The Dark Kenneth HATED me!  HATED AND LOATHED!  And of course I didn’t know this because I’d never met him.  I would see him walking jauntily by the window on occassion.  But then a shop owner told me that he was saying all this nasty stuff about me and I was like, “What the??”

I don’t do drama, so I really didn’t care what this guy had to say because HE WORE CAT-EYE CONTACT LENSES.

One evening, the block was having a sidewalk sale/party and I was working for a friend in a clothing boutique.  Suddenly, Dark Kenneth comes marching in there, drunk as a skunk, and starts wailing an apology.


Now THAT was interesting.  But then he ran out sobbing before I had a chance to ask him what his mother was like……


In art news, I just finished a very manly painting.

A tad different than my usual fare.

It was for my brother-in-law for his birthday (speaking of interesting people).  I’m allowed to talk about him now that I know he reads this.

Many many years ago he was all….


And BOOM! It happened.  He married a great girl, got hired on in a church and man they pumped out some babies!



5 babies in 7 years! And she can still wear a bikini!!!



15 years later, he suddenly decided that he was tired of being out of shape and sedentary and so he started eating right and working out and now all of a sudden he’s become really great at boxing.


And so he goes around the neighborhood trying to pick fights with the neighbors but they all decline.  You’d think people would be lining up to punch a pastor. But no.  They’re just scared.

I’m also working on this painting.  Its huge.

Not done with it yet.  I’ll show you when I am, intertesting people.

I know you’re out there…..


PS- Spell check is no longer working on my blog and so we’ll all have to take what we can get in the “accuracy” department.  “Accuracey”?…..