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The Ramblings of a Redneck Diva
Sunday, January 16, 2005
24 hours ago I was asleep
Mood:  spacey
Topic: Rambling much
Last Wednesday night I fell asleep at 8:30, not even making it through Alias. THAT is a big thing. I NEVER miss Alias. I will fore-go family functions in order to see Alias. If Alias were on a Monday night, I would miss Ladies' Night at the Big Fancy Casino. That's how much I love Alias. Okay, so anyway, I was so exhausted that I fell asleep at 8:30 that night. Last night, I fell asleep watching a thing on the Travel Channel about the Mysteries of Route 66 (seeing as how I live on the Route and all I wanted to see what mysteries it beheld. Bleh, it wasn't a very good show.) It was about 8:30 when I dozed off. I was in that sleep that is relaxing, but you're not all the way asleep, you still hear what's going on around you, sort of. Well, I heard Paul flip down the foot thing on the recliner and start turning off lights. I managed to get up off the couch, came out here and turned off my computer, took off my bra and laid back down on the couch. It was warm and there was no way I was going back to that coldass bedroom. I just happened to look up at the clock before I took my glasses off and it said 9:20. My whole entire household was in bed before 9:30 last night! I guess we were some tired rednecks. Of course, two out of the five of us are battling colds and one is battling an asthma flare-up. Sickness is tiring I guess.

I have discovered that I am easily programmable. I have developed a Pavlovian response to the sound of my washing machine draining. No matter what I am doing or where I am in the house the sound of the drain sends me automatically running to the utility room to stand on my tiptoes (because I'm short) to where I can see over the back of the washer to the drain. Then I stand there until I see water run up to the edge of the drain hole, hit the button to turn the washer off and then go about my merry business for about a minute. I usually don't get too far, obviously. Then it's back to the washer to hit the button, stand there long enough to make sure it doesn't overflow again and then it's back to business as usual. Until I hear it draining again. This is the life I lead, folks. It ain't glamorous, but it's mine.

It glittered here today! Sis called because Addison had a bad earache and she knew I had an entire pediatric pharmacy in my kitchen cabinet and I would have a concoction that would help. She asked if I had looked outside.
Me: Yeah, it's sunny! Finally!
Sis: Hmm, it's glittering here.
Me: Glittering? Did some fairies visit you?
Sis: Just go look outside!

And sure enough, it was glittering! It was too cold to snow so what was coming down were dry ice crystals that sparkled and glittered like well, glitter!

Just watched the local weather. Supposed to be 51 on my birthday. And no snow or rain! Once I became an adult God evidently decided I'd had enough of the rainy/snowy/dreary birthdays and for years now they've been downright nice days. I look at it as His blessing for the casino runs we make because everyone around here knows that birthdays mean FREE PLAY. Alright, so maybe God's not actually blessing the casino runs...

Tonight at the dinner table Ab said "OOh Mom! Just 5 more days till your birthday!" I glared at her and stuck out my tongue. Paul laughed. She said, "What? Aren't you excited about your birthday??" like it was a deadly sin to not be ecstatic about it. I explained that when you get to be my age the only thing a birthday does is remind you how old you are. Sam said, "Well, at least you can gamble for free!" He worries me with how much he knows about indian gaming.

I just spell-checked this post. For "Bleh" it gave the suggestion of "Bl eh". Alllrighty, then. Someone wanna tell me what a bl eh is?

The Diva has spoken at 10:47 PM CST
Rammit! Rammit! Rammit!
Mood:  not sure
Topic: Kids & other noisy things
Abby spent the night at my mom's last night. I met her halfway between our two houses to pick Ab up. Mom handed me her suitcase and a WalMart sack. She had sent a few t-shirts for Paul to wear to work. It also held Ab's copy of Home on the Range

and The Scooby Doo Movie.

I said, "Oh great. We're trying to break Sam of the Scooby talk, but that's okay. They'll enjoy watching it."

It would've been absolutely classic had Mom responded with "Ruh ro. Rorry, Ristin." She didn't. But, if she's anything like me, she drove off then thought of it.

The Diva has spoken at 2:38 PM CST
I'm Wendy, the Snapple Lady, dammit
Mood:  surprised
Topic: Things in life that suck
I'm not saying that Wendy the Snapple Lady isn't a delightful person. She seems like she'd be a hoot to take gambling, maybe share recipes with. But, let's face it - she's fat. So am I. I admit this, don't get me wrong. Yet, today when I caught the last 15 minutes of the first episode of Celebrity Fit Club on VH1, I nearly choked on a huge mouthful of chicken tetrazzini when I saw Wendy the Snapple Lady's stats. She is 5'2". So am I. She weighs the same as I do. Our mind is a wonderful thing, but just like it tends to play tricks on us when we think we hear people talking in our computers, it also makes us think we aren't as fat as we really are.

Here's Wendy

Here's me

Holy shit, I am Wendy The Snapple Lady.

Heather assures me that I am not as big as The Snapple Lady, but she's speaking with love. She says that we carry the weight differently, that's all. Two people can be the same height and weigh the same and not look the same, she says. My gosh, how I love my baby sister.

The Diva has spoken at 2:30 PM CST
Guilty Pleasures
Mood:  spacey
Topic: About me
I got this from Jess at Apropos of Something who, by the way, writes a damn good blog. I also added a couple of new ones that Jess didn't have.

CD I have in my car that I roll up the windows to listen to
The Veggie Tales. It's not that I'm ashamed of the Veggies, but it's hard enough to look cool in a mini-van without singing cucumbers blaring from the speakers.

Book I read flat so no one could see the title
Years ago, the first time I read The Story of O I hid it in my nightstand drawer so my husband wouldn't see it. Now, I could care less who sees what erotica I'm reading - everyone knows I'm a pervert without seeing what erotica I read.

Crappiest song ever sung at karaoke
I Will Survive, complete with disco arm motions and dramatic facial expressions.

Bad movie I watch repeatedly
Dirty Dancing. It's so good, though! In a bad way.

Article of clothing I love though I know it's wrong
My granny sweater. It's a cream-colored cardigan that is bulky, misshapen and downright frumpy, but wearing it is almost like eating mashed potatoes when you need comfort food.

What I order at the bar when no one is listening
Zima. How bad is that? Can you still even get Zima in a bar?

Website I have bookmarked that people might find shocking Told you I was a pervert.

Fast food item I adore
That would have to be the McRib. Man, when McD's has the McRib I'm McHappy.

A TV show that is a good example of the downfall of civilization that I love anyway
The Biggest Loser. We are such a fat society that we now have reality TV about our weight problems. I love the show and watched it religiously, and if you remember correctly, am sending in an audition tape for it.

Music group/artist that I adore with a horny teenager kind of unashamed fervor
Maroon5. Good heavens, I love them. It's embarrassing how much I love them. I don't normally go for skinny guys, but the lead singer is hot even if he is a toothpick.

CD in my collection that I am embarrassed to admit I own, but still listen to and love the hell out of it
Okay, are you ready? Barry Mannilow's Greatest Hits Volume 1. There, I've said it.

List your guilty pleasures either in the comments or on your own blog! Let us know a little more about you! Come on, you know you wanna...

The Diva has spoken at 11:03 AM CST
Saturday, January 15, 2005
Speaking of "Ronsters"
Mood:  silly
Topic: About me
I was just over at Blogliners and found this question. I thought I'd just take a moment to write about my Ronsters from my childhood.

Let's talk monsters... were you scared of a bogeyman under the bed? Did a vampire lurk in your closet? What scared you as a child and maybe still does?

When I was a kid I could not just walk past my parents' bedroom if it was dark. In my mind, and people you know I'm a fairly rational, intelligent person, there was a vampire in there. If I merely walked past the darkened bedroom door, he would jump out and get me. If I could speed walk or even run, I would be safe. Nothing I can remember ever happened to make me think there was an undead, blood-sucking dude in my parents' bedroom, but for some reason I did.

When I was about 5 or 6, I think I was in Kindergarten, my mom had her gall bladder taken out. Back then it was major surgery, not just an in and out thing like now. Her best friend, my JoJo, watched me while Mom was in the hospital. I think our Nana had Sis, since she was barely a toddler. Well, JoJo and her husband were farmers and kept weird hours. It was nothing to eat dinner at 9 or 10pm at their house due to being in the field, a piece of machinery breaking down or some other farm disaster. One night while I was there, JoJo had to be outside for an extended period of time helping her husband. She left her teenaged son, Michael, in charge of me. I was sitting at the table, eating dinner, minding my own five-year-old business and for some mean-spirited reason, Mike started telling me about his pet monster, Herkamer, (How the hell DO you spell that anyway? Hercamer, Herkemer...whatever) and how Hercamer liked to eat little girls who didn't eat all their dinner. As far as I can remember, I wasn't NOT eating my dinner, I think he was just mean and wanted to scare the living shit out of me. He succeeded. I went to bed that night and lay there wide-eyed in fear, just sensing that the dreaded Hercamer was just beyond the wall and that he had an enormous drill that could bore through the wall, allowing him to snatch me up and then devour me, because I was told this was what he did. A few weeks later, after Mom was home and things were normal, I had to go to JoJo's again and I bawled my freaking head off. There was NO WAY I wanted to go back to Hercamer's lair! I ended up staying because Mom busted my butt. That night I told her I didn't want to stay there ever again because Mike told me about his pet monster. Now, you know that my mother HAD to have been biting the insides of her cheeks to not bust out laughing at my story, but she was sympathetic and said she'd take care of it. She told JoJo, I'm sure thinking that she would get onto Mike about scaring the innocent, gullible little neighbor girl. Now, JoJo and I were pretty tight back then, still are today, but man, she totally turned on me regarding the girl-eating monster that her son owned! The next time I had to go up there, she waited till my mom was gone and then proceded to get all kinds of up in my business and tell me that I was a sensible little girl and what was I THINKING, believing that Mike had a monster and she could not BELIEVE that I fell for that! Oh man, was I embarrassed, hurt and MAD! I didn't talk to that asshole, Mike, for a long time. He didn't care. I was five - he was 13. He was probably happy I wasn't bugging him.

Now, as an adult I cannot sleep with a closet door open. Nor can I walk over a drainage grate or manhole cover. Stephen King ruined that shit for me forever.

The Diva has spoken at 6:57 PM CST
I have strange children
Mood:  quizzical
Topic: Kids & other noisy things
My two youngest children like to read the phone book. Here's the first problem - neither of them can read. Okay, well Sam can read about Nat the fat cat who sat on Jan and then Rags ran to Dan in the van, but that's about it. Kady is three and is not a prodigy, therefore she can't read either. Yet these two children can be entertained for hours with a phone book.

Sam is lying here in my office floor, on his tummy, propped up on his elbows, flipping through the phone book like it's a freakin' Grisham novel.

Just a few minutes ago he jumped up like he was on fire, flung the phone book in my face, pointed to the page and yells "Ronster! Ronster!" I slowly turned toward him, gave him the blankest look I possibly could, and said "I refuse to acknowledge the Scooby talk anymore, son."

"Rokay, Rom."

The Diva has spoken at 6:26 PM CST
Mood:  lazy
Topic: Rambling much
Paul and I went to sleep around 3:30 this morning. He got up 20 minutes before he was supposed to actually be at work this morning. Therefore, building the fire he had let go out during the night was not high up on the list this morning. When I finally was sick and tired of hearing my early-rising children ask me repeatedly for food, I got up to a frigid house, no fire and no wood even in the house. Grrrrrrr. If the wood is dry as a popcorn fart and I have newspaper and, sometimes it takes, starter logs, I can build a fire. It's a smokey ordeal, I cuss a lot and have been known to just give up and turn up the central heat. But today, I found some dry bark on the dead wood pile and used it to build a rather toasty fire in a hurry. It's been burning an hour now and I figured it was about time to add some green wood. I just went out to the wood pile, which is right outside our back door, and got a couple of logs, threw them on the fire then went back out to get more for the wood box. I hate running outside in my pj's when it's 15 degrees outside, so I figured I'd just bring in a bunch at once. EXCEPT all of the wood is frozen together. I guess the two logs I brought in first were the only ones dislodged from the mess! The wood he stacked this week was some that had been down awhile and with all the rain we've had, was pretty wet. Obviously. Now I'm going to have to actually get dressed in order to spend the amount of time outside that it's going to take to break all the wood apart. Dadgummit!


Last night we taped our audition tape for The Biggest Loser. It was fun, if nothing else. If we don't get on the show, or even make it to an interview, we at least had fun with Courtney during the taping. She wrote us a song! I don't think she's got a copyright on it, so I'll give ya the words:

(Sung to the tune of "Summer Love" from the Grease soundtrack)

I ate some donuts, I ate some cake.
How much junk food can my body take?
I saw a show on the TV.
I think it can help you and me.

Overweight mommies and sisters, too, but oh there's something we can do.

Well-uh, well-uh, well-uh....yadda yadda, ad nauseum

Tell me more tell me more - How do we get on the show?
Tell me more tell me more - We could even win dough!

Biggest Loser, just wait and see...we'll lose the weight you and meeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.

Oh my gosh, yes it's corny. But it's HILARIOUS and we really feel like it's eye-catching. They are looking for personality and we both have that for sure.

The tape then cuts to Sis talking about why she wants to go on the show. She almost made me cry! She's so very sincere and heartfelt. Mine was, of course, funny-ish. They said I got real quiet and almost slipped into talking like my mother (The thought!), but it was still touching and of course humorous at the end. Then after that, the tape cuts to us both holding up a picture of all 5 kids and we say how they are our reasons for wanting to do this, Sis says we want to be around to see them grow up, want to be there to watch them walk down the aisle and I cut in with "Hey, we just want to be able to FIT down the aisle!" Note: We are both quite able to fit down the aisle of a church. It was humor, that's all folks. If we get too big to fit down the aisles of the church, well...that's just not gonna happen dammit.


When we were done filming, we asked Paul if he minded me going to the casino with them. He said he didn't care, but in the back of my mind, I thought I was going to pay for it somehow. I just assumed that he would go to bed, seeing as how he had to get up at 5:30. I should never assume when it has to deal with my husband. While we were at the casino, Heather got a call telling her the Melissa's sister's water had broke and they were at the hospital. So when we left the casino at 12:45am we dropped off Courtney and went up to the hospital. Upon reentering the car I discovered that Paul had called. I called him back and he was pissed. After telling me that I was never going out again, like my father would've done, then telling me he couldn't sleep (which was strange) and to get home, I hung up the phone and silently loathed him for being such a prick. When I got home I took off my makeup and tried as quietly as I could to get into bed without waking him up. He was snoring and I thought 1) Yay he was finally able to go to sleep and 2) Yay he's asleep and hopefully won't yell at me some more. I slipped into the bed and tried to not breathe very hard. I felt myself slipping off, relaxing and then out of the blue he goes "Our f**king house is haunted." AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! I nearly jumped outta the bed! Not at the declaration of hauntedness, but at his voice.

So I asked him why he thought the house was haunted, trying to stifle a giggle. But the tone of his voice as he described it quickly told me that he really wasn't kidding. He said the dresser pulls had been clacking against the dresser. I laid there in the quiet, listening for the ghost who quite possibly had an underwear fetish or maybe he was just cold out there in the drafty next life and wanted a sweater. I heard nothing. Finally I said, "Paul, maybe you dreamed it." He goes "No! It just takes awhile. It'll happen again, I'm sure of it!" So more listening. By this time it's 2:30am. I feel myself drifting off again. I was so tired that a freaking poltergeist would've had to have picked me up, thrown me across the room and slapped me with a dead pickerel to have kept me awake right then. Ahhh, blissfull sleep...then again, out of the blue, "I'm horny." AGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! I will kill that man one day, I'm sure of it.

I asked him later (after the sex, because you know if they're awake and horny and 2:30am and you are awake and incredibly tired, it's just easier to give in so they'll leave you the hell alone) "Did the sound go something like this?" and I mimicked the sound. He wheeled around and said "YES!! You heard it, too??" I said, "Uhh, nnnnnno.... Dear, that is either a rattly window or something in the eaves that clacks when the wind blows. It's done it since we moved in 4 years ago. Now can I go to sleep?" He mumbled something about how it seemed funny that he'd never heard that noise before and he'd lived here four years just like the rest of us... and I felt myself drifting off once more.

Out of the blue --
He: What. the. f**k. is. THAT. noise???"
Me: You big baby, it's a train. I will murder you if you wake me up again.
He: ...
Me: And no, we are not having sex again.

The Diva has spoken at 11:20 AM CST
Friday, January 14, 2005
Coffee is so awesome
Mood:  caffeinated
Topic: Rambling much
I am drinking my second cup of Coffee Squared this morning and I'm feelin' pretty damn good. Coffee Squared is what I call my own personal concoction of coffee with 4 heaping teaspoons of English Toffee instant cappuccino mixed in. Twice the caffeine, baby!'s strong and it's sweet and it's hot and it's everything I ever wanted in a cup of coffee and a man. *grin* Try it - your head will spin, you'll feel your heartrate increase and the world will amazingly right itself before your very eyes.

Well, tonight's the night. Oh! I don't think I've actually told y'all yet. *looks back through recent posts...* Nope, haven't told y'all. Sis and I are auditioning for The Biggest Loser! Yep, we're doing it. Now, I realize that y'all are sittin' there thinkin' "Just how FAT are they anyway?!?" Well, we're fat. Plain and simple. Any fat is too fat, right? I dunno, being a fat person myself, the jury's still out on that one, lol. Okay, so anyway, when the finale was over the other night and Caroline Rhea announced that they are still taking applications and they are specifically looking for families, well my little brain went squeaking into motion. Paul, who has kind of laughed through the whole season when I have casually mentioned that I want to do it, said "Well, there ya go. There's your web address. You know you want to, so go for it." No sooner had those words come from his mouth than the phone rang. I sat straight up on the couch (because I was lying flat on my back, eating Cheetos while watching a show about fat people losing weight) and said "That's Heather and she's going to ask if I want to go on the show with her." He got this weird look on his face and trepiditiously picked up the phone, almost as if he half expected the dead people in my computer to begin speaking through the phone.

He doesn't understand the psychic bond we have, my sister and I. Don't laugh - we do! We will suddenly burst into song together - at the same spot in the song and once or twice have even done it in perfect harmony. We finish each other's sentences. Like day before yesterday we were in the van, talking about something. The conversation kind of dropped off, both of us in our little thought-world then she goes "Well, that I wanna know is-" and I said, "Yeah me too!" and the actual thing we both wanted to know was never actually spoken, yet we knew what the other was thinking and continued the conversation. We are freaky like that.

So it was no surprise to me when he said Hello and heard my sister yell frantically "Let me talk to your wife!" And he goes "Uhhh, I think I already know what you want to ask her," and handed me the phone.

So my darling sister came up with our fantastic audition ideas and we've asked Cousin Courtney to produce and direct it because you know she IS the Small Town Starlet after all and she has amazing ideas when it comes to marketing and stuff like that. She said our ideas were great, but in the video we MUST have something in there about the fact that I entertain like a crazy woman and what a fabulous cook I am and all the while she's saying these pretty words, my ego is swelling to gigantic proportions that would rival the gigantic proportions of my ass. So we decided that tonight is the night. After the boys finish karate, we are taking the kids to Mom's and then the production will begin. We're hoping to just wow the hell out of 'em and make them remember our fat selves. I mean, after all, that's what we want, right?

I'm sure that in my life I've been known for my fat-ness. Like when people say "She's so pretty, if she'd just lose that weight" and "You know who she is - that well, bigger girl with the loud braying donkey laugh? Yeah, that's her!" but this time in my life I actually want people, mainly the exec's at Go Faster Productions, to remember me for my voluptuous curves and all that. (If I hadn't had so much coffee this morning my mind would probably be able to think of more synonyms and analogies, but as it is, I can't do much more than type and bounce my leg and pray spell check picks up the many, many errors coming from my flying fingers.)

Sis and I filled out our applications together last night. One question was "What's the most outrageous thing you've ever done?" We were both completely stumped on that one. We were both sadly thinking that we have got to be two of the most boring people in the world and neither of us could come up with a thing. So we skipped that question and went to "How competitive are you?" Well, I am only competitive in certain instances and for the most part, am pretty spineless. So I was torn as to how to answer the question. I hollered into the living room to Paul, asking him how competitive I am. He said, "Well, how competitive were you during the Demolition Derby?" And Sis and I were both like "THE DEMOLITION DERBY!!!!" We finally had my outrageous moment. And my answer to the competitive question. I am pretty competitive when I want to be - and I SO want to be concerning this show.

When we finished the applications, we swapped and read each other's. My sister is so amazing. She's so inspring and focused and well, she's strong even though she'd never describe herself as that. I was touched by her answers. She will wow them with her sincerity. I finished and sat and watched her finish reading mine. She sat back and said, "Man, yours is FUNNY! Why can't Ibe funny? They're going to take one look at our applications and they're going to say 'We want the funny one, but that droll sister has got to go!'" I assured her that no one would find her droll and that they were going to find us the most perfectly complimenting couple of sisters that will fit the spot needed in their show. Here's hoping anyway.

The Diva has spoken at 9:39 AM CST
Thursday, January 13, 2005
Too late
Mood:  incredulous
Topic: Things in life that suck
Turns out, whaddaya know, we DO live on Cherokee land. Stupid indian bastards.

I stopped by and visited with a friend of mine yesterday who works at Indian Food Distribution (While I was there I picked up this month's allottment of free cheese, whoo hoo!). When I told her of the fiasco the day before her immediate reaction was "BULLSHIT! You DO live on Cherokee land!" So, using her wonderful network of Cherokee Nation resources, called a friend who works at a different division of her office and this woman was simply incredulous when told that the red-headed indian woman consulted for her information. She then informed us that the Cherokee Nation has a full-time, paid GEODATIST. I didn't know such a person existed, a geodatist, but turns out, he's a pretty wise dude. So she put in a call to the geodatist, who then looked us up (I felt so special getting all that attention yesterday) and then emailed her a copy who then faxed and emailed a copy to my friend who then emailed a copy to me. WE LIVE ON CHEROKEE LAND!!!! Of course, we already knew this, but now we have proof. And also, of course, we already bought the tag through the state. Damn indian bastards.

The Diva has spoken at 11:41 AM CST
A quiz!
Mood:  quizzical
Topic: About me
Okay, anyone that went to high school with me or knows me well now, will not be surprised in the least by the results of this quiz. I was SUCH a geek in high school, but I was a popular geek. I'm not sure how that happened, but I managed to succeed with it. I was voted Teacher's Pet and Most Organized, yet was popular and well-liked. I'm not bragging. Okay, yeah, just a little. Anyway, I got involved with the Speech/Drama crowd and found my niche, yet remained popular. I also went through an incredibly dark phase where I wore all black, cried a lot and wrote really scary, depressing poetry and remained popular. I looked back through journals from that particular phase awhile back and went into a state of panic thinking "What I am going to do if my kids start doing this kind of crap!?" It's scary how dark and suicidal I sounded! Yet, I wasn't suicidal in the least - I was just using all that teenage angst to write depressing shit to freak people out. Ah, what fun it was to be a teenager.

Anyway, here are the results. Laugh if you must.

You scored as Geek.



Drama nerd








Ghetto gangsta






What's Your High School Stereotype?
created with

The Diva has spoken at 9:52 AM CST
Tuesday, January 11, 2005
The calendar says it's Tuesday, but I think it lied
Mood:  hug me
Topic: Things in life that suck
I got in bed at roughly 1 am. I woke up at roughly 5 am. And it was roughly, to say the least. 4 hours just wasn't enough last night. I got around and started getting ready and by 7:50 my two oldest kids were safely on the school bus and my husband and I were driving down the driveway with our youngest and Chandler strapped into the backseat. We were headed out on our trip to Tahlequah to get a Tribal tag on the truck. This was the trip that was supposed to have happened last week, but we postponed due to weather that really wasn't that bad as it turned out. So we embarked on our journey armed with a bag of goodies to keep the kids occupied, a book for me to read, the truck title, the bill of sale, my blue tribal card, insurance verification, driver's license, directions to Tahlequah courtesy of my friend, The Internet, and quite possibly lurking in the backseat was a shaved opossum and four small leprechauns. It had promise of being a good trip. Knowing that, even though we were dragging 2 small children out on a cold, foggy, dreary January day, we were going to save about $800 on the truck tag can kinda make days promise good, right? Wrong-o.

Firstly, let me just say that the road to Tahlequah via Oklahoma's "Scenic" Highway 10, is an adventure in all things related to carsickness. If we had had Abby and Sam with us, there would've been barfing. And you know how well I've handled that lately. Tiff and John took the kids to Tahlequah awhile back and if I had KNOWN what that road was like, I'd have armed them with Benadryl, biohazard suits and many, many WalMart sacks to catch flying puke. Of course, they didn't barf for them - they save it for us, their parents, the ones who created them.

We drove and drove for what seemed like ages, plunging further and further into what reminded me vaguely of the scene in Deliverance where the dirty, toothless man tells the fella he wants to hear him squeal like a pig...yeah, that scene. *shudder* I was getting a bit uneasy that maybe somewhere along the way we had forgotten to turn onto an actual HIGHWAY and was just preparing myself for the tirade I was going to endure if that turned out to be the case. I kept my mouth shut though, silently worrying, biting the insides of my cheeks as I always do when I get nervous then out of the blue Paul, in the driest fashion possible, says "Ya know, this is starting to look like the part of the country where the owls swoop down and f**k the chickens." Well, I had never heard that particular colloquialism and still yet I'm not sure what would be involved in fornication between chicken and owl, but it was all I could do to not spray the drink of Coke I had just partaken of through my nostrils onto the interior of the precious new truck. When I regained composure, I said, "Yeahhhhh..." and then fell into a fit of giggles, quietly loving the redneck I married.

Fortunately we found Tahlequah, The Internet had given fine directions. Thank you, friend.

We did have to stop to get directions to the actual tag office because The Internet didn't actually know where it was, but we found it after consulting with a rather unshaven young man with a cigarette dangling from his lip. He was helpful even if he was creepy.

We drove around the whole entire Cherokee Tribal Complex That Used to Be A Motel But We Cleverly Disguised It The Best We Could three times before we found a landing strip, I mean parking space, big enough to park the yard barge we call Our Truck. Upon entering we found the tag office to be well...a motel room. I mean, it used to be a motel room but is now a rather cramped, sterile and somewhat depressing looking tag office/tax commission. I signed in and sighed inwardly at the fact that I had to flip to the second page and sign halfway down that page. But I smiled because I was thinking of all the money we were going to save with this tribal tag! We were prepared for an all-day wait, but a mere 50 minutes after I signed in, they called my name.

I handed over the title, bill of sale, blue tribal card, insurance verification, and driver's license and waited eagerly for her to announce that our tag was only going to cost us $458. Instead she frowned, mumbled something and then left her desk. She returned and then asked me where we lived, were we south and west of the Neosho River, were we closer to Miami than Fairland, blah blah blah blah. I said that yes we were south and west, we were smack dab in the middle of the two towns and I was quite sure that we were in Cherokee jurisdiction. Well, thanks to (Damn you Mapquest. Damn you all to hell.) we were actually pinpointed JUST OVER THE LINE and therefore, did not qualify for tribal tags. I said that we had neighbors who had tribal tags and how could this be, I know where we live. She shrugged and said "I guess they used false addresses or something." WTH??? You just admitted that quite possibly someone frauded you, Oh Great and Mighty Redheaded Not Quite Indian Looking Tribal Tag Office Lady and you are okay with this? She then consulted with another woman who was not redheaded and actually looked indian (Not that this really matters, I just find it funny that someone as pale as her works in an office filled with dark haired, dark skinned Native Americans and sticks out like a diamond in a goat's butt, to be perfectly honest.) and the conclusion was made that indeed we were screwed. There was nothing they could do, had spoken.

My face burning, my heart pounding and my anger rising, I carefully folded up all of my papers, taking extra time to fold, re-envelope, paperclip and put everything neatly back into my purse. She was rather uncomfortable with me remaining there so long and I bet she said "Have a nice day" five different times.

I waited until we left the office and were safely around the corner before I told Paul that we were leaving without a tag. Oh the explosion that occured. He called them everything under the sun, cursing my Native American heritage and probably burning holes in the ozone layer with his expletives. I was secretly admiring his ability to vent his anger. I was still fuming on the inside. And then I called my Mom. Because as you know, this is what I do in times of crisis. She declared that we DO live south and west and did I want the number to the county assessor's office so the tag people could call and find out just exactly where we live? I offered this new information to Paul, but he was so mad he simply said "F**k the indian bastards, we're going home." Yeah baby. You get 'em.

We drove home a lot faster than we drove down there. The kids and I slept. I knew Paul needed some quiet time, bless his heart.

We are now sporting a brand new Oklahoma tag on Our Truck and the great state of Oklahoma is now in possession of $1059 of our hard-earned money. I am prepared to fight when March rolls around and the tags on my van are due. I am going to have a legal, notarized description of our property, a note from my mother and quite possibly a large box of Krispy Kreme donuts to offer as a bribe and I am going to do my damn best to get a tribal tag then.

Paul is reading over my shoulder as I type and when he saw "Krispy Kreme donuts", he said "Krispy Kreme donuts my ass. You won't take donuts to them hateful indian bastards." You gotta love the fervor in which he holds grudges. It's an admirable quality. I do so love that man.

The Diva has spoken at 10:35 PM CST
Stupid gambling
Mood:  don't ask
Topic: Things in life that suck
I did not win $500 at the Big Fancy Casino tonight. Nor did I win $100. Hell, I didn't win shit tonight. I'd have counted myself lucky to have won actual shit, that's how bad it was. And the stupid electronic blackjack dealer was obviously the antichrist because that bitch took my $10 in all of 5 minutes. That was humiliating. To whom? Only to myself because I was surrounded by complete strangers and I could care less if they were watching or not.

No dead people have talked through my computer tonight. I think they are feelin' the cranky vibes I'm givin' off. I don't think they'd wanna mess with me tonight. I'd be all up in their business goin' "If you are going to talk to me E-NUN-CI-ATE, ya dead idiot." That's the kind of mood I'm in.

And I'm a horrible mother. Yep. G'head and call DHS, I'll wait while you get them on the line.

Sam fibbed and told me his throat hurt this evening. Well, I honestly never once, not for a second believed the child's throat hurt. His big sister is sick and he is wanting attention as well. He's the middle child, this is what he does. So when I was giving the girls their bedtime medicines I called him into the kitchen as well. I handed him two Motrin chewable tablets. I was going to teach that child a lesson, I was. I figured the Motrin wasn't going to hurt him and I KNOW he hates the chewable tablets. He started whining and then moved on to crying, but I was standing firm. He was going to take the Motrin if I had to make them into suppositories. So after much gagging and some weird throaty hacking thing, he got the first one down. I had to swat him twice in order to get the next one even near his mouth. Now at this point, I bet you really ARE dialing DHS and honestly, I can't say I blame you. I am evil, folks. Okay, so he chewed up both tablets and I gave him some water and walked out of the room. I no sooner got into the living room when I heard SPLAT and before I could even think about what was coming from my mouth I yelled "YOU LITTLE SHIT - YOU DID NOT JUST BARF IN MY KITCHEN FLOOR!!!!" And then he started crying. Oh but your evil commentator here didn't even feel bad. I was just pissed off to no end that he made himself throw up! I am payin' for my raisin' on that one because I was notorious as a child for making myself vomit when I didn't want to take medicine. Oops, sorry about that one, Mom. Karma's a bitch, I'm realizing that one. I walked back into the kitchen and thought that I should probably count to ten or something because I was pretty mad, but for the life of me I couldn't remember how to count. I looked down and saw a pile of barf, splattered in about a 4 foot radius and do you wanna know what I said? I said, "Did you eat green beans for lunch, son?" The child never eats green beans! I was so proud. Well, I was still mad then, but now I'm proud. So there he stood at the trash can, spitting and coughing like there was no tomorrow and I was cursing under my breath while I cleaned up the floor. I even told him that I had no sympathy for him. I reiterate, I am evil. What kind of horrible parent has no sympathy for their child when they barf??? An evil one, I'm here to tell ya. When we were both calmed down, after he had brushed his teeth and was settled in his bed, with a trashcan beside his bed (because the way my luck has gone he probably, in all actuality, has a stomach virus or something) he apologized for lying to me. I asked him if he was worth it and he shook his head no and said, "Oh Momma, those Motrin chewables are nasty! I tried to tell you!"

When it was all over with I said "Can you believe he did that?" Paul shook his head and said, "I just can't believe you called him a little shit! I've never heard you call the kids that to their face!" I felt about 2 inches tall as I took my sluggy, lowlife self out to my van and lit up my very last cigarette.

Man, it was a Monday all evening.

The Diva has spoken at 12:38 AM CST
Monday, January 10, 2005
Today's flaunted food is...
Mood:  hungry
Topic: Rambling much
... a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup. Two of them actually. Just thought I'd let you know.

It's Ladies' Night at the Big Fancy Casino! I'm feelin' lucky, punk. I am. We shall see.

I got up at 4:30 this morning. That sucked big time. I was nearly to the city of Tulsa before the sun came up. I like driving in the early morning like that, before the sun comes up. Don't know why really, I just do. I listened to my Maroon5 CD all the way to Tulsa and that was a definitely good thing. When we left the dentist's office I grabbed the case for John Mayer's Heavier Things, but silly me, I had left the actual CD in the kitchen CD player and had brought only the case. If I hadn't been driving I could've stared wistfully at him, but since I had to play Responsible Parent, I decided against that. I put in a CD of praise and worship songs and proceded to sing my little heart out. That lasted about 20 minutes and then Ab said, "Uh, Mom...can we listen to something ELSE puh-lease?" Don't know what her problem was - I was praisin' and worshippin'! I put in Rascal Flatts and we listened to them the rest of the way home. My morning was filled with music by a bunch of hot awesome guys and songs about an awesome Guy. Not to say God's not hot, but somehow I kinda feel weird sayin' God might be hot. ooh. Anyway...

Chandler crapped his pants this morning. AGH! He hasn't done that here in a LONG time, probably because the poor little guy just doesn't want to hear me retching and grumbling when I have to clean him up. Ough. 3 year old poop is entirely too close to adult poop and I just can't handle that. Poor guy. He felt really bad. When he gets up from his nap we're going to put on Big Boys. He seemed pretty excited about them earlier. We talked about how cool it was to wear them (Not that I've ever worn Big Boys - I am strictly a Big Girl wearer myself) while they ate lunch and he was ten kinds of excited. Then he crapped his pants and had to listen to me retch. I hope I didn't spoil the excitement for him.

Paul's splitting wood as I type. I offered to help, but he is really just not wanting me to help stack it! I do not understand him. Well, I guess I kinda do. I'm very particular about how things are done with my tasks and chores. There is a certain way that our washcloths must be folded and socks are numbered in my house. Yes, I number our socks. Yes, I realize I am weird. Anyway, I don't let him help with certain things around the house because he just doesn't understand how I want them done. So maybe he feels the same way about his wood stacking chore. Although, I'm not really sure I believe that. He slopasses everything he does, including the wood stacking. Maybe I'm an amateur and don't see the artistry of his wood stacking and that's why it always looks slopassed. Or maybe he doesn't want me to help because, as with the inside chores, I feel there is a certain way to do things. The last time we stacked wood I had all of the smaller logs near the door, mid-sized ones in the middle and the freaking giant Sequoyah trunks at the far end. I guess this didn't set well with the slopass, I mean artist.

I'm horny today. Yep, go ahead and stick that in the TMI file - I'll wait. There is a point though, as there sometimes is here in The Ramblings. I felt compelled to comment on this anomaly because it's so darn rare! My hormones are so off kilter that I haven't been randy since like 1995 or so. Okay, that might be a slight exaggeration, but only slight. This is kinda nice. Hmmm...

How funny that just as I was deciding on my next paragraph, that Derek felt compelled to comment on my post about the dead talking through my computer. I wholeheartedly agree with him, though. He said

"heh...Isn't the power of suggestion funny?

especially when it pertains to ghosts and such. Spooky.


(I liked the "boo" at the end, btw, Derek.)

Our minds do play powerful tricks on us. Our brains are easily tricked. Not to say I didn't hear something last night from my computer, but was it the dead talking? I don't know. Could've been an power surge, although I have a pretty hefty amount of surge protection behind there. Could've been any number of electronic impulses and noises that I've heard time and time again, but never paid attention to them. And it could've been dead Uncle Marmaduke trying to tell me where he hid his millions. In which case, Uncle Marmaduke, if you can read this while you're lurking around my computer, speak clearly and enunciate a little better next time, willya? You're abilites in communicating with the living need a little honing there, dude.

The Diva has spoken at 3:07 PM CST
Sunday, January 9, 2005
Okay, now the dead people are taking over the computer, methinks
Mood:  surprised
Topic: Rambling much
I'm a tad freaked out at this particular moment. My computer is talking to me.

Yes, I said my computer is talking to me.

The volume is up loud enough that if there were a noise coming from a webpage I'd hear it and know what it was. Far as I know the previous two pages I was just on do not have sound effects, seeing as how one was the blog builder and the other was Dooce and if she's added sound effects, well, way to go Dooce for freakin' me out.

I'm not frightened, by any means. Just a tad freaked.

I just called Paul out here and he thinks I'm certifiable now. Great. It took me saying "my computer is talking" to send him right on over into thinking his wife is a kook. He said the stereo was on. It's not. He said the freezer is running. Okay, it's running, but I can hear it and it's not that. He stuck his head up to the speaker and I told him that it's not coming from the speaker, it's coming from the computer itself.

He walked away, shaking his head and scratching his butt, mumbling that he's never letting me see another scary movie again. See if I share with him again when the dead start talking to me through my computer.

The Diva has spoken at 9:45 PM CST
All Things Brady
Mood:  quizzical
Topic: Complete utter nonsense
Can you name all 6 Brady children?
What was the housekeeper's name?
The housekeeper (whose name has been omitted to protect the innocent) had a crush on the butcher - what was his name?

This is how my husband and I entertained ourselves for about 20 minutes this evening. We were flipping through channels on the way to the Outdoor Channel, because he can't stay away from it, and stopped on VH1's The Surreal Life. This season has a former Brady in the cast. This got us to talking about all of the Brady kids and their names. For the life of us, we couldn't come up with the middle girl and any of the boys. OR the housekeeper! Who in the world forgets the housekeeper? I called my mom, because this is what I do. She filled in two of the missing boys, but we still couldn't think of the other. OR the housekeeper! I finally remembered the name of the missing girl while on the phone with her. I told her I'd end up looking for it on the trusty ol' World Wide Web and she told me to call her back. As soon as I hung up I remembered the housekeeper's name. Paul couldn't wait for me to consult the wise Internet for the rest and called the neighbors. Dana had no clue so she put Glenn on the phone. He spouted off the name of the missing boy, the housekeeper's boyfriend AND then queried did we know the name of Mike Brady's boss. I told him that as long as I had the names of the children, the maid and her beau, I was satisfied. Mike Brady's boss...geez.

So tell me, do you know the answers? If you get them all right you get nothing from me, but you will have the satisfaction of knowing all things Brady. Cheap, yes I know.

The Diva has spoken at 9:35 PM CST
I might hear dead people
Mood:  not sure
Topic: All in the family
We saw the movie White Noise last night. Sis, Bub, Courtney, Paul and I. Courtney spent the last 30 minutes of the movie with her coat zipped up all the way then pulled up under her nose, her hands partially in front of her face and her knees under her chin. I was just amazed at the sheer flexibility that was involved in that. I spent those last 30 minutes with my hands balled into fists and those fists were planted firmly in front of my mouth to keep me from screaming out loud. There was no way my knees would've touched my chin if I'd wanted them to. I had to wear jeans to the movie because no one else was wearing their pajama pants.

Heather and I had played with the tape recorder the night before and we had all talked about coming back to our house after the movie to play with it some more. I was excited about that, even if my husband was grumbling that it was ridiculous bullshit. Yah, well, he's an old fart.

The movie was slow to start and I was starting to feel a tad disappointed. But oh when it go going, it got right on it in a hurry. When things were thick and scary and tense, Courtney leaned over, her eyes never leaving the screen, and said, "We do NOT need to be playing around with this stuff." At the time I agreed because I was in the middle of having the holy living shit scared outta me. But when the movie ended it said that the chances of getting bad or negative responses from the other side are about 1 in 12. I was all over it again, figuring I had about 10 more times to go before I heard someone or something that would make me have the urge to bathe in holy water. So Courtney said she was in again, too. We called Heather to see if they were coming over and she said "I am NOT doing that white noise shit!" We had eaten at Long John Silver's before the movie and for some reason it always makes us thirsty, so all I had to do was offer her water and she said she'd come over. That was too easy.

We played with the tape recorder for about 2 hours, taping multiple times, asking questions and asking for them to make an effort to be heard, and we honestly believe we heard talking, but it was unintelligible. The website says that you have to do it several times for them to get to know you. Get to know me? Well, I'm 5'2", long brown curly hair, green eyes...

Courtney and Heather were joking that here we sat in my living room, asking for dead people to talk into my daughter's Fisher Price tape recorder and probably there was a bunch of dead people on the other side sitting around wanting live people to talk into their tape recorders. The thought was kind of amusing last night.

I saved all of our tries from last night. I'm going to sit down with the headphones tonight and see if I can pick up anything from them when it's quiet and when there's been space from last hearing them. If I pick up anything threatening y'all might have that holy water bath ready.

The Diva has spoken at 12:09 PM CST
It's Sunday and you need to know more about me
Mood:  loud
Topic: About me
I have been working on a List of 100 meme for like ever and frankly, it's just going nowhere. I got 35 or so and quit. Then worked it up to 72. Saved it and let it rest awhile. I'm up to 94 now and that's it. There is no more about me. I'd hate to think there are only 94 things about me that I need to tell you, but I'm afraid that's it. Of course, in the grand scheme of things, don't you find that just reading about me and my maternal exploits on a daily basis is giving you the picture of me that you need? I think so. So screw the 100 Things meme. Screw it.

I am still wearing yesterday's makeup. It's bad. I must get this oily, ivory-colored mess off of my skin soon.

I love winter because my hands are always cold and my rings are always slipping around my fingers like they're too big. Even though I always gain like 10 pounds in the winter and resort to wearing sweats, windpants and pj pants because my jeans are too tight, I feel like I'm a little skinnier when I fight to keep my rings on the tops of my fingers.

When I type I always cross my ankles. Usually left over right. When things start cramping and falling asleep, I'll switch, but usually within minutes it's back to left-over-right.

Last night Courtney ate a chocolate covered coffee bean while we were perusing the EVP website. I love those little chocolate covered morsels of pure caffeine and eat them with hearty crunches and grinds. Courtney, however, just sucked off the chocolate first. When she finally bit into the coffee bean OH THE LOOK ON HER FACE! It was classic. She goes "OOH! Ooh! Coffee bean NASTY!" I turned around to where she was making a bitter beer face behind me and then busted out laughing. "Did you suck all the chocolate off first????" When she nodded in the midst of her attempts to swallow, the rest of us all went "Oooh". Bub said, "Yeah, you'll never do that again, huh." It was pretty funny. I offered her another one to chomp on, thinking she could add some chocolate to the existing grainy mess in her mouth to help it go down, but she refused and ran to find water. Bless her heart. Coffee bean virgin, she was.

I sat my ass in the recliner this morning and watched an entire hour of Rascal FlattsAll Access on CMT. 60 blissful minutes of Joe Don Rooney and those other two guys that seem to maybe sing with him. Or something.

I ran my dishwasher yesterday. I got sick and damn tired of the skin peeling off my hands due to long-term exposure to soapy dishwater. I all but sandbagged my kitchen and ran that sucker. No leaking and when I opened the door when the cycle was over, I swear that dishwasher sighed in sheer contentedness. I patted her and said, "Well done, my good and faithful appliance." I then explained to her that I hadn't been punishing her by not using her lately. I explained the septic situation and she was very understanding. We have a great relationship. I ran her again this morning. Another good experience. I left the rolled up towel squashed up under the front of it, though. Just in case. She understood.

I'm down to 7 cigarettes in the pack I have hidden in my sock drawer. When they are gone, I'm done. Really. I mean it. Don't look at me like that and nod your head condescendingly. I'll bitch-slap you. STOP IT!

I need to go to town this afternoon. Man, I don't want to. I have prescriptions for both girls ready at the pharmacy. Abby's going to the dentist tomorrow and has to have her bi-weekly dose of immune-depleting amoxicillin before they'll touch her. Kady's down to two Singulair and she started rattling yesterday. We're also out of milk. Medicine and bone-strengthening calcium I guess are pretty good reasons to peel the pj pants off my body and put on some sweats, take off my oily day-old makeup, load all three kids into the van and drive to the hell we call Wal-Mart. I guess.

Last night, as we were walking out the door Kady said, "Momma, does me have to do in-hay-wers tonight?" I said, "Yes, sweetie. Grammy knows all about how to do it." She flipped her head around and snottily said, "SEE Sam! Me TOLD you!" Yikes, my little diva, step back and control thyself.

When we got home last night around 10, the kids were still up. Mom simply stated that I never actually said that she was to put them in bed, so she let them stay up. Kady came running over and stood right in the middle of us all and began swinging her hair from shoulder to shoulder. She can do this simply by bending at the waist and flipping her head while jerking her shoulder up ever so slightly. It's rather fascinating to watch a three year old do this. Kind of scary, too, that she's working them feminine wiles already. Anyway, she got our attention with the hair flipping and then announced "Gwammy dwied my hair with your hair dwyer, Momma! With YOUR hair dwyer!" I think she was trying to rile me up by tattling that my hair dryer was used by someone other than me. What she doesn't understand is that I am not like her siblings and I will not put you in the Vulcan Death-grip for using my belongings. Unless it's my computer and then you'd better watch yourself, buddy. That's crossing a line.

It's nearly noon and the children are whining for food. It's just like a kid to ask for food when their little tummies growl. That's one thing about kids. You gotta watch yourself. You feed 'em one time - ONE TIME - and the little boogers keep coming back expecting you to do it again and again.

The Diva has spoken at 11:46 AM CST
Friday, January 7, 2005
Betcha can't guess
Mood:  not sure
Topic: All in the family
You will never guess what I spent the evening doing. Guarantee it. You really won't guess it right. So I'm just gonna tell ya.

First of all, I visited this website. Then after thoroughly creeping myself out, my sister visited the website. (You have to click on the link, dudes. You won't get the post as well if you don't.) Then after we listened to the clips, we grabbed Kady's tape recorder and shut ourselves in my bedroom.

Yes, we tried to hear the dead speaking in my youngest daughter's Fisher Price tape player. This is what happens when you are a stay at home mom and it's winter and you have a hormonal imbalance, combined with OCD and SAD. You resort to crazy, insane, paranormal forms of entertainment. And you take your sister on the ride with you, providing you're both tall enough, don't have high blood pressure or heart conditions and you will keep arms and legs inside the car at all times.

Our first attempt was the best one as far as comic content. We both stood on either side of the bed. I held the microphone and hit Record. As the website suggested, I let it record silence first. She motioned at me to talk. I motioned at her to talk. We covered our mouths and stifled giggles. When I regained composure I asked "Is anyone there?" More silence recorded. Then "What is your name?" Then the giggles took over and I asked, "Are you a good witch? Or a bad witch?" in the falsetto Good Witch of the North voice. We exploded into a rather loud case of nervous laughter. Needless to say, we heard nothing but our giggles and quiet snorts through that try when we played it back. The next one, we managed to keep quiet and un-giggly, but we kept getting the sounds of The Outdoor Channel from the living room TV because have I mentioned that that is ALL THE MAN WATCHES THESE DAYS? I asked him to turn it down, but we still weren't satisfied with what we weren't hearing. So then we went into the back bathroom, turned on the water and recorded some more. First I said "Hello?" Silence. "What is your name?" Then I nearly threw my sister into a stroke when I asked "Can you see us?" Her eyes got huge and she shook her head, almost like "Take that back!" I think we picked up something on that last one, but I haven't had the chance to sit down with it again and listen to it through headphones.

It was creepy and rather nerve-wracking at first. But we prayed before we started, as the website also suggested. We prayed that God would keep any bad dead dudes from getting to us. Then we giggled. Then I prayed again, more solemnly. Then we giggled. Finally, I bit the insides of my cheeks, seriously asked God to protect us and Heather said that maybe the reason we didn't hear anything is because God really was keeping the bad dead dudes away. *shrugs* Or maybe it's all a crock of crap. The EVP's, not God. Either way it was good for nearly 3 hours of entertainment, what with reading the website, listening to their samples and then checking out the ghost sites for Oklahoma ghost hunters/paranormal hunters and did you know that supposedly we have Bigfoots, erm... Bigfeet... uhhhh ....supposedly people in Oklahoma have seen large, hair-covered, big footed creatures? Now whether it's actually THE Bigfoot, a distant cousin or possibly a whole herd of Bigfooted hairy critters, I don't know. But it was kinda cool reading about them regardless.

The whole evening pissed Paul off to no end. For one thing, paranormal stuff is, to him, a bunch of hogwash, poppycock and plain ol' bullshit. Plus, he came home in a bad mood yet again. PLUS I told him when he left for work this morning that I'd make chili for dinner, but Sis brought dinner when she brought the boys back from karate and I didn't make chili. Oops. My bad. So bad. I'm sleeping on the couch tonight. In fact, I've kind of avoided him altogether since Sis left. If he catches me and starts ranting he's going to give me a talkin' to, I can feel it. He was friendly while she was here, a witness is what she was, but now that she's gone I'm just stayin' away from him and letting him watch The Outdoor Channel as loud as he wants. Even though, after listening to EVP's all night, I'm a bit skittish when I hear a duck call and gun shots emitting from the living room. I've nearly jumped out of my chair twice already.

The Diva has spoken at 10:58 PM CST
Updated: Friday, January 7, 2005 11:02 PM CST
For pity's sake
Mood:  incredulous
Topic: Things in life that suck
Today, I was sitting out here at my computer, working on my book (since I haven't in a really long time) and I thought I heard the faint sound of rain. Rain? No...we haven't had rain in ages! (Read that previous with sarcasm if you don't mind) I went outside to get wood for the fire and discovered that indeed it was raining. And icing. And snowing. No kidding - all three at once.

So much for that weather forecast that said "40 degrees and sunny" for today.

Monday it is supposed to be 65 degrees.

By week's end we are forecasted to experience the coldest temps we've had all season.

Is Oklahoma, like, God's comic relief when it comes to weather? I'm sure it gets heavy at times, bein' God and all. So He must save Oklahoma for those days when it's been really bad and depressing and then He just hits a button that throws our weather pattern into something akin to a carnival Tilt-a-whirl and laughs His heavenly head off.

The Diva has spoken at 6:33 PM CST
Updated: Friday, January 7, 2005 6:36 PM CST
What Kady said
Mood:  happy
Topic: Kids & other noisy things
My three year old, despite the fact that she refuses to use the pronoun "I", talks way older than she is. She comes up with things that blow me away sometimes. Reading the story about her calling her daddy "bitch" should've clued you in to this fact.

Yesterday she was sitting in the kitchen floor while I washed dishes, (Yep, still doing it by hand. Bleh) using a new package of napkins as a computer. She was sitting indian-style, her package of napkins in front of her, banging away on that sucker. I guess it had the Bounty2 Processor or something. Well, she banged around on it long enough that the package finally ripped open. I had to take it away from her and gave her a Tupperware container instead. In my opinion, it made a better computer anyway. So after I managed to convince her that plastic really was better than paper, she began typing again. She'd ask me a question and then type away, obviously practicing her dictation skills. She asked me what my favorite color was. I told her blue. She said "Purple?" I said, "No, blue." "Purple?" "Blue." "Purple?" "Yes Kady, purple." "Okay, Momma." Finally the questions stopped, but she continued talking to herself. Asking questions and answering them, which is kind of concerning, but I think it's okay. She is three after all. So then I hear her say:

"Me don't like it when the ballerinas lift me over their heads. Me crazy like that."

I slowly turned around to look at her. She just grinned up at me with the most adorable look on her face. Then suddenly, as if someone flipped a switch, she jumped up, kicked her Tupperware computer across the floor and said, "Music! Me need music! Me. Must. Dance!"

She's crazy like that.

The Diva has spoken at 6:03 PM CST

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