won't move if you don't write.
Turns out I didn't add any words, or even take more away last night. I was annoyed, but then I remembered I'm a part time writer - so I wasn't too hard on myself (this time).
Wednesday, May 30, 2007
Monday, May 21, 2007
And so... it begins!
Today I will start what I hope is the first of many books that will actually be published. At the moment, I have a 4 book series that will not leave me be - so it's time to start them.
I'll find a progress meter after I have a few more letters on the page.
I'll find a progress meter after I have a few more letters on the page.
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Not your average name TAG!!
Shelli tagged Aura, and Aura tagged me to write about my random facts and habits.
Here are the rules:
1. Each player starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
2. People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
3. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
4. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.
Here goes:
1. My cats eat plants, so I don't have any in the house.
2. I have a pool table in my living room, and a TV in my dining room
3. I buy books without reading the blurb on the back because I like the cover or title.
4. I have lots of hand written notes, but nothing typed on my book - YET
5. I would rather buy new tools than new clothes
6. My garage is full of stuff I really don't need but can't part with just yet
7. As a rule, I don't like me-me posts
8. is my favoite number
Since one must tag.. I will tag the following:
Sadly, I can think of noone who would respond to the tag... (that have not been tagged already). So I choose to end the game here.
Here are the rules:
1. Each player starts with eight random facts/habits about themselves.
2. People who are tagged need to write their own blog about their eight things and post these rules.
3. At the end of your blog, you need to choose eight people to get tagged and list their names.
4. Don’t forget to leave them a comment telling them they’re tagged, and to read your blog.
Here goes:
1. My cats eat plants, so I don't have any in the house.
2. I have a pool table in my living room, and a TV in my dining room
3. I buy books without reading the blurb on the back because I like the cover or title.
4. I have lots of hand written notes, but nothing typed on my book - YET
5. I would rather buy new tools than new clothes
6. My garage is full of stuff I really don't need but can't part with just yet
7. As a rule, I don't like me-me posts
8. is my favoite number
Since one must tag.. I will tag the following:
Sadly, I can think of noone who would respond to the tag... (that have not been tagged already). So I choose to end the game here.
Sex-Ed in 5th Grade?
Not exactly a post for guys - but maybe....
You've been warned.
I'm sure there are many good reasons for including Sex-Ed in the 5th grade curriculum these days... I was just not at all prepared for it. Neeper came home this week with MANY questions about how the female body works. The school sent the kids home with a pamphlet about how their bodies would be changing in the next couple years and what to expect.
Neeper is SO excited to have her period... she just can't wait to be a 'young woman'. I keep trying to tell her she should enjoy the fact that she doesn't have to deal with that mess yet, and she'll very much want to be rid of it once it arrives. She says innocently enough "But you loose your period when you start menopause, right?" this makes me laugh, and then cry... cause I know it's not true, which I've informed her a couple times.
With the lovely little pamphlet are three different sizes of feminine pads from panty liners to an overnight pad. I went to the grocery store Thursday, the day the packet came home, and when I returned, it appeared Neeper was chasing Dub around the house with one of these pads still in it's pretty pink package. I don't think I was gone more than 45 minutes, but I cannot properly describe the look of relief on his face when I came thru the door. Neeper started chatting with me then, and tried to include Dub in the conversation but he tossed up his hands and said he was "Done talking about female stuff!"
It's funny, Dub will talk about almost anything with Neeper, sometimes in too much detail for her age (It's my opinion that there are some things kids don't need to know until they are older) yet he didn't want to talk with her about the nature of the female body. *giggles* I'll give him crap about that later, especially as she grows up.
Friday, I was taking a little nap in the afternoon when Neeper brought the pamphlet to me with 12 foot tape measure from the garage in hand and announced, "I don't get it!" and pointed to the instructions for measuring to find your bra size.
It seems there is a formula that goes something like :
1) Measure around your chest, just below the breasts.
2) Add 5 inches if it's an odd number; add 4 inches if it's an even number. This is your bra measurement. (Not sure why, I'm just going with what it says...)
3) To find out what cup size is needed, measure around the fullest part of your breasts.
It goes on to say the difference in the first number and second number will tell you what your cup size is:
AA - if numbers are the same
A - if 1 inch difference
B - if 2 inch difference
C - D more than any 5th grader should have unless they've been held back for several years.
Number 3 is what was confusing Neeper. See, those of us wearing more than an A cup these days know that this measurement is done around the chest, across the fullest part of the breast.. how far do the girls stick out, in other words. Neeper was thinking that she needed to measure around the beast area, only there's not much there so she's having a hard time coming up with a number. Not sure these yo-yo's who wrote the booklet kid tested it before taking it to press.
But reading it again, it doesn't tell you that you need the difference between the first measurement (before adding extra inches) so could be additional confusion when if you add 5 inches to 27, but your measurement around the breasts is 28, then how does that work exactly - the poor kid would end up in a DD cup .. talk about disproportionate! Anyway, measuring Neeper's way - she was coming with a much bigger number difference than she should.
It was very hard to hold in the giggles, but we managed to have a serious conversation and determined that at the moment she'd be an AA cup. Now we need to go bra shopping. UGH!
Whew... one down... many more to go...
You've been warned.
I'm sure there are many good reasons for including Sex-Ed in the 5th grade curriculum these days... I was just not at all prepared for it. Neeper came home this week with MANY questions about how the female body works. The school sent the kids home with a pamphlet about how their bodies would be changing in the next couple years and what to expect.
Neeper is SO excited to have her period... she just can't wait to be a 'young woman'. I keep trying to tell her she should enjoy the fact that she doesn't have to deal with that mess yet, and she'll very much want to be rid of it once it arrives. She says innocently enough "But you loose your period when you start menopause, right?" this makes me laugh, and then cry... cause I know it's not true, which I've informed her a couple times.
With the lovely little pamphlet are three different sizes of feminine pads from panty liners to an overnight pad. I went to the grocery store Thursday, the day the packet came home, and when I returned, it appeared Neeper was chasing Dub around the house with one of these pads still in it's pretty pink package. I don't think I was gone more than 45 minutes, but I cannot properly describe the look of relief on his face when I came thru the door. Neeper started chatting with me then, and tried to include Dub in the conversation but he tossed up his hands and said he was "Done talking about female stuff!"
It's funny, Dub will talk about almost anything with Neeper, sometimes in too much detail for her age (It's my opinion that there are some things kids don't need to know until they are older) yet he didn't want to talk with her about the nature of the female body. *giggles* I'll give him crap about that later, especially as she grows up.
Friday, I was taking a little nap in the afternoon when Neeper brought the pamphlet to me with 12 foot tape measure from the garage in hand and announced, "I don't get it!" and pointed to the instructions for measuring to find your bra size.
It seems there is a formula that goes something like :
1) Measure around your chest, just below the breasts.
2) Add 5 inches if it's an odd number; add 4 inches if it's an even number. This is your bra measurement. (Not sure why, I'm just going with what it says...)
3) To find out what cup size is needed, measure around the fullest part of your breasts.
It goes on to say the difference in the first number and second number will tell you what your cup size is:
AA - if numbers are the same
A - if 1 inch difference
B - if 2 inch difference
C - D more than any 5th grader should have unless they've been held back for several years.
Number 3 is what was confusing Neeper. See, those of us wearing more than an A cup these days know that this measurement is done around the chest, across the fullest part of the breast.. how far do the girls stick out, in other words. Neeper was thinking that she needed to measure around the beast area, only there's not much there so she's having a hard time coming up with a number. Not sure these yo-yo's who wrote the booklet kid tested it before taking it to press.
But reading it again, it doesn't tell you that you need the difference between the first measurement (before adding extra inches) so could be additional confusion when if you add 5 inches to 27, but your measurement around the breasts is 28, then how does that work exactly - the poor kid would end up in a DD cup .. talk about disproportionate! Anyway, measuring Neeper's way - she was coming with a much bigger number difference than she should.
It was very hard to hold in the giggles, but we managed to have a serious conversation and determined that at the moment she'd be an AA cup. Now we need to go bra shopping. UGH!
Whew... one down... many more to go...
Thursday, May 10, 2007
From the dusty OLD email file ~ dated 10/21/2002
I was messing around in an old email program, looking for .. something. I found this email, and figured I'd share - someone could use a laugh.
I hope you enjoy this as much as I did. (again)
If you have raised kids (or been one), and gone through the pet syndrome including toilet-flush burialsf or dead goldfish, the story below willhave you laughing out LOUD!
Overview: I had to take my son's hamster to the vet.
Here's what happened: Just after dinner one night, my son came up to tell me there was"something wrong" with one of the two hamsters he holds prisoner in his room.
"He's just lying there looking sick," he told me. "I'm serious, Dad. Can you help?"
I put my best hamster-healer statement on my face and followed him into his bedroom. One of the little rodents was indeed lying on his back, looking stressed. I immediately knew what to do.
"Honey," I called, "come look at the hamster!"
"Oh, my gosh," my wife diagnosed after a minute. "She's having babies."
"What?" my son demanded. "But their names are Bert and Ernie, Mom!"
I was equally outraged. "Hey, how can that be? I thought we said we didn't want them to reproduce," I accused my wife.
"Well, what do you want me to do, post a sign in their cage,?" she inquired.(I actually think she said this sarcastically!)
"No, but you were supposed to get two boys!" I reminded her, (in my most loving, calm, sweet voice, while gritting my teeth together).
"Yeah, Bert and Ernie!" my son agreed.
"Well, it's just a little hard to tell on some guys, ya know," she informed me. (Again with the sarcasm, ya think?)
By now the rest of the family had gathered to see what was going on. I shrugged, deciding to make the best of it.
"Kids, this is going to be a wondrous experience," I announced. "We're about to witnessthe miracle of birth."
"OH, Gross!", they shrieked.
"Well, isn't THAT just Great!; what are we going to do with a litter of tiny little hamster babies?" my wife wanted to know. (I really do think she was being snotty here, too. don't you?)
We peered at the patient. After much struggling, what looked like a tiny foot would appear briefly, vanishing a scant second later.
"We don't appear to be making much progress," I noted.
"It's breech," my wife whispered, horrified.
"Do something, Dad!" my son urged.
"Okay, okay." Squeamishly, I reached in and grabbed the foot when it next appeared, giving it a gingerly tug. It disappeared. I tried several more times with the same results.
"Should I call 911?" my eldest daughter wanted to know. "Maybe they could talk us through the trauma." (You see a pattern here with the females in my house?)
"Let's get Ernie to the vet," I said grimly.
We drove to the vet with my son holding the cage in his lap. "Breathe, Ernie, breathe," he urged."I don't think hamsters do Lamaze," his mother noted to him. (Women can be so cruel to their own young. I mean what she does to me is one thing, but this boy is of her womb, for God's sake.)
The vet took Ernie back to the examining room and peered at the little animal through a magnifying glass.
"What do you think, Doc, a c-section?" I suggested scientifically.
"Oh, very interesting," he murmured."Mr. and Mrs. Cameron, may I speak to you privately for a moment?"I gulped, nodding for my son to step outside.
"Is Ernie going to be okay?" my wife asked.
"Oh, perfectly," the vet assured us. "This hamster is not in labor. Infact, that isn't EVER going to happen... Ernie is a boy."
"What!?"
"You see, Ernie is a young male. And occasionally, as they come into maturity, like most male species, they um.... er.... masturbate. Just the way he did, lying on his back." He blushed, glancing at my wife. "Well, you know what I'm saying, Mr. Cameron."
We were silent, absorbing this.
"So Ernie's just...just...Excited?", my wife offered.
"Exactly," the vet replied, relieved that we understood.
More silence.Then my viscous, cruel wife started to giggle. And giggle. And then even laugh loudly.
"What's so funny?" I demanded, knowing, but not believing that the woman I married would commit the upcoming affront to my flawless manliness.
Tears were now running down her face."It's just...that...I'm picturing you pulling on its...its...teeny little..." she gasped for more air to bellow in laughter once more.
"That's enough," I warned.
We thanked the Veterinarian and hurriedly bundled the hamsters and our son back into the car. He was glad everything was going to be okay.
"I know Ernie's really thankful for what you've done, Dad," he told me.
"Oh, you have NO idea," my wife agreed, collapsing with laughter.
I hope you enjoy this as much as I did. (again)
If you have raised kids (or been one), and gone through the pet syndrome including toilet-flush burialsf or dead goldfish, the story below willhave you laughing out LOUD!
Overview: I had to take my son's hamster to the vet.
Here's what happened: Just after dinner one night, my son came up to tell me there was"something wrong" with one of the two hamsters he holds prisoner in his room.
"He's just lying there looking sick," he told me. "I'm serious, Dad. Can you help?"
I put my best hamster-healer statement on my face and followed him into his bedroom. One of the little rodents was indeed lying on his back, looking stressed. I immediately knew what to do.
"Honey," I called, "come look at the hamster!"
"Oh, my gosh," my wife diagnosed after a minute. "She's having babies."
"What?" my son demanded. "But their names are Bert and Ernie, Mom!"
I was equally outraged. "Hey, how can that be? I thought we said we didn't want them to reproduce," I accused my wife.
"Well, what do you want me to do, post a sign in their cage,?" she inquired.(I actually think she said this sarcastically!)
"No, but you were supposed to get two boys!" I reminded her, (in my most loving, calm, sweet voice, while gritting my teeth together).
"Yeah, Bert and Ernie!" my son agreed.
"Well, it's just a little hard to tell on some guys, ya know," she informed me. (Again with the sarcasm, ya think?)
By now the rest of the family had gathered to see what was going on. I shrugged, deciding to make the best of it.
"Kids, this is going to be a wondrous experience," I announced. "We're about to witnessthe miracle of birth."
"OH, Gross!", they shrieked.
"Well, isn't THAT just Great!; what are we going to do with a litter of tiny little hamster babies?" my wife wanted to know. (I really do think she was being snotty here, too. don't you?)
We peered at the patient. After much struggling, what looked like a tiny foot would appear briefly, vanishing a scant second later.
"We don't appear to be making much progress," I noted.
"It's breech," my wife whispered, horrified.
"Do something, Dad!" my son urged.
"Okay, okay." Squeamishly, I reached in and grabbed the foot when it next appeared, giving it a gingerly tug. It disappeared. I tried several more times with the same results.
"Should I call 911?" my eldest daughter wanted to know. "Maybe they could talk us through the trauma." (You see a pattern here with the females in my house?)
"Let's get Ernie to the vet," I said grimly.
We drove to the vet with my son holding the cage in his lap. "Breathe, Ernie, breathe," he urged."I don't think hamsters do Lamaze," his mother noted to him. (Women can be so cruel to their own young. I mean what she does to me is one thing, but this boy is of her womb, for God's sake.)
The vet took Ernie back to the examining room and peered at the little animal through a magnifying glass.
"What do you think, Doc, a c-section?" I suggested scientifically.
"Oh, very interesting," he murmured."Mr. and Mrs. Cameron, may I speak to you privately for a moment?"I gulped, nodding for my son to step outside.
"Is Ernie going to be okay?" my wife asked.
"Oh, perfectly," the vet assured us. "This hamster is not in labor. Infact, that isn't EVER going to happen... Ernie is a boy."
"What!?"
"You see, Ernie is a young male. And occasionally, as they come into maturity, like most male species, they um.... er.... masturbate. Just the way he did, lying on his back." He blushed, glancing at my wife. "Well, you know what I'm saying, Mr. Cameron."
We were silent, absorbing this.
"So Ernie's just...just...Excited?", my wife offered.
"Exactly," the vet replied, relieved that we understood.
More silence.Then my viscous, cruel wife started to giggle. And giggle. And then even laugh loudly.
"What's so funny?" I demanded, knowing, but not believing that the woman I married would commit the upcoming affront to my flawless manliness.
Tears were now running down her face."It's just...that...I'm picturing you pulling on its...its...teeny little..." she gasped for more air to bellow in laughter once more.
"That's enough," I warned.
We thanked the Veterinarian and hurriedly bundled the hamsters and our son back into the car. He was glad everything was going to be okay.
"I know Ernie's really thankful for what you've done, Dad," he told me.
"Oh, you have NO idea," my wife agreed, collapsing with laughter.
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