Hold your nose and pull the lever


Y’all, I said I wasn’t going to do this. I said I wasn’t going to get political. I didn’t want to do it. I’ve had it up to my eyeballs and then some with the tv and radio ads, the robocalls, and the obnoxius Facebook, Instagram and Twitter blatherings.  For all those reasons I had no intention of writing this blog today but Oprah made me do it.  (Insert needle scratch sound effect here.) Well, I’m going to assume it was Oprah. (Yeah, yeah I know ALL about assume.) The quote my friend posted on Facebook was attributed to Oprah, so I’m gonna go with it.  The quote is this:

“For anybody here who has an ancestor who didn’t have the right to vote, and you are choosing not to vote — wherever you are in this state, in this country — you are dishonoring your family.”

That’s some powerful stuff. For a hot minute, I was blown away by how simple and yet profound and important her words were until it hit me. She’s talking about everyone. Think about it, if you have females in your family and everyone does, your ancestor was denied the right to vote.  If you had immigrants or minorities of any sort, your ancestor was denied the right to vote.  If you had poor white men in your lineage that didn’t own land or a business, your ancestor was denied the right to vote.  Yep, that’s pretty much everyone.  Whether this was what Oprah was going for or not, what this quote said to me was is we are all equal and we are all equally duty bound as Americans citizens to vote. We all have a voice. Use it. And, now, this is my quote, stop patting yourself on the back for voting. This is something you should have been doing already. You shouldn’t be getting a prize for participation. Furthermore, sometimes your candidate doesn’t win and it sucks.  Don’t be a sore loser. Don’t act a fool for the camera or loot because your candidate lost. Keep trying.

Now, I don’t know about you but since I’m sick of all the politics I’m going to go watch something on my DVR. I will find out who won or lost tomorrow.


One Year

Holy hell y’all, I’ve been a blogger for a whole year as of today, November 2.  In my highly ADHD world, that’s a freaking miracle. I get bored easily. I stop, start, redirect and lose direction on every project I attempt. I cannot tell you how many diets, workout programs, books, craft projects, etc. I have started, stopped and eventually finish over the years. That is my one good trait in all this – I finish things.  Granted, it may take me a year to finish a half done project but I ALWAYS finish what I start.

I’m actually really glad this milestone came today as I don’t really have an interesting topic for this week.  I’m still desperately trying to stay away from politics. Although, that is getting harder and harder. I had a few really good bits of inspiration strike this past week but I forgot to write them down. So, that means they are as good as gone, never to return again. Again, good ole ADHD strikes again.  For those who think I am making fun of people with ADHD let me assure you I am “eat up with it” as the old saying goes.  I have some rather unhealthy coping mechanisms as well as some rather good ones and a prescription for medicine I never take because I don’t like how I feel when it wears off.  Lists are my friends and I write down or make notes on everything. Because of these lists, people seem to have the impression I am way more organized than I am and are always a little astounded when I drop the ball on something – or maybe it’s just my family that acts astounded when I drop the ball.

Finally, and completely unrelated because hey it’s ADHD on display here today – do you ever wonder if God is up there saying well they sure fucked up this time. I guess I’m gonna have to come down there sooner or later. Maybe it’s just me.  That is as close as I’m getting to politics right now.

P.S. I nearly forgot – Thank you, friends and complete strangers, for coming along with me on this pipe dream crazy ride for the last year. I promise to continue to voice my highly inappropriate opinionated thoughts and say y’all and hopefully, you’ll continue to read this drivel. Seriously, though, thank you.

Musing, Random

Always Listening

I’m writing this post while standing in line waiting to vote because inspiration struck.  I am absolutely astounded at the number of people at the polls for early voting.  You’d think this was another presidential election.  It’s insane.  There must be at least 75 people in this line and it’s not even lunchtime.  The next bit of inspiration comes from the people waiting in line with me.  If there’s one thing I love to do in a crowd like this it’s people watch and eavesdrop.

I adore eavesdropping.  I’m pretty sure this passion started in my formative years being raised in a household full of adults and no other children. I was forever being told to “hush, the adults are talking” and “children are seen and not heard”. The only other thing to do when you can’t get a word in edgewise is to listen or watch the paint peel. The former is a lot more fun than the later. It’s interesting to hear what others have to say especially when they think no one is listening. I ALWAYS listen and there is plenty to be heard.

The biggest offenders are millennial aged women and old people. The next runners up are mothers of young children and middle aged men.  Those last two groups love to have conversations on the phone while standing in line or walking around the store.  I have actually heard one middle aged dude make some hanky panky plans for later while in the shampoo aisle at Target.  Nothing every shocks me but I’m always a little amazed at the types of conversations people will have in public.  I can’t quite understand their reasoning.  Do they think that just because they aren’t near someone they know that it’s safe to talk about all manner of personal issues like the neighbor’s cancer, your child’s bout with lice or your ailing parents’ incontinence issues?

I keep thinking to myself one day just for kicks I will call someone out for the very loud, personal conversation they are having in public. But, doesn’t that make me just as guilty for listening?  Ultimately I just keep my mouth shut.  I have to hand it to some of these people, they sure do provide a lot of inspiration for this blog and serve as a catalyst for thinking.  Maybe these dirty laundry airing folk are a gift from the universe.  The universe’s way of saying, “I know your life is shit but at least it’s not that bad. Listen to what those people are saying about that poor sap.”  I think I’ll just count my blessings.

P.S. –  If anyone is interested, today’s offenders were a couple of old ladies.  They were talking about all their friend’s ailments in great detail.  Dementia, hemorrhoids and heart disease.  You can’t make this stuff up people.

P.P.S. – If the government needs more people to listen in to conversations, I’m your girl. Just call me Alexa or Siri.  I’ll even respond to Hey Google.


Fall Funk

water rain wet drops

Y’all, I’m not gonna lie. I’m having a super hard time coming up with inspiration for the blog the last couple of weeks.  I have had a serious case of the “blahs” and I’m just not feeling it.  I wouldn’t call it depression.  It’s more like a funk.  I have no doubt the weather has something to do with it. This September and now October has been the wettest on record for Texas and we’ve also experienced record cold.  Frankly, we are having January for Fall.  It’s so strange to see green leaves on trees and yet its 48 degrees outside.  I know our plight is nothing compared to what the Florida Panhandle and coastal North Carolina are dealing with.  I have close friends in both places dealing with the aftermath and it’s horrible. I’m just not mentally prepared for the cold and rain – not yet.

Over the years, I’ve discovered I’m very affected by the weather.  That sounds like such an old person thing to say.  When I re-read that sentence I immediately hear the old folks of my youth bitching about their bursitis acting up and how their arthritis is twinging which means rain is coming.  See what I mean? It’s an old person sentence. Young people don’t give two shits about the weather and yet I do. Full disclosure, I also watch the 10 p.m. news. Yep, that’s also an old person move and yet I can’t help myself. I know I can get news from the internet. I usually do but I love the local tv news.  Does this love of talking about the weather and watching the local news make me an old soul or just an old person in training?

Back to this weather, I know I’m not the only one completely over it.  My kids are dying to get out and really enjoy the outdoors as is my dog.  While we’re at it, let’s talk about how this weather is affecting everyone. This stupid weather is making people drive even dumber than they already do.  There are wrecks all over town and we have streets actually falling apart because of all the water.  This stupid weather has made the school carpool lane enough to make you want to commit murder or at least yell obscenities out your window at a few people. This stupid weather has made it impossible for me to fully decorate my yard for Halloween. Speaking of Halloween, this crap better clear up for the big night. There’s nothing worse than slogging through the rain or answering the door when it’s pouring down. Don’t give me that ‘just set a bowl of candy out on the doorstep” crap. You know as well as I do some greedy kid is just going to take it all and not the three piece max like your cute little Pinterest sign says.

P.S. – If you’re reading this and you have Twitter, do you think we can get #Thisstupidweather to trend?  Is that even a thing anymore?

P.P.S. – Y’all, I’m serious, I need some inspiration. Everything I can think of is political or bitching about something. I’m striving for lighthearted. With midterm elections looming, I don’t want to go political. It’s just too negative and anything I write will be like preaching to a choir or teaching a pig to sing – both are fruitless.  So, I welcome your ideas.


Motherhood/Parenting, Random, Uncategorized


75a7cf508587495cafa7cf790d089863As of last weekend, all the high schools in my area have finished with homecoming festivities; and I am very thankful.  No, it’s not because all the nice restaurants were a madhouse and you couldn’t find a decent cocktail dress within a 100-mile radius. It’s because I can finally go to any grocery store with a floral department or Hobby Lobby and not see the photos like the one attached to this post.

Today’s topic is going to get me de-friended by my Texas bestie but really y’all this is something I will never get used to no matter how long I live in this state.  Now I get that the traditional thing is to give a girl a corsage or flower of some sort before going to a formal dance/homecoming/prom but these Texas mums have moved beyond a flower.  I’m attaching a link here to something I found the other day. It’s a blog post about 50 Gigantic Homecoming Mums everyone has to see.  These things are truly ridiculous.  They are like a car wreck you just can’t take your eyes off of.  High schoolers turn these mums into a competition of sorts – who’s mum is bigger, tackier, has more flair and do-dads, etc.  And let me tell you, these things aren’t cheap.  A small mum is easy $100 with the average mum costing $200-$300.  It’s insanity.

For years I have mentally told myself we have to move away from Texas before my kids get in high school. Now, with high school fast approaching, I’m starting to get worried because we have no prospects for a move. I wonder, will my son have to help foot the bill for this monstrosity? Will my daughter expect to get one of these fugly things and will subsequently want to hang it on her bedroom wall after Homecoming like her peers? I’ve already started campaigning for a move to Florida. It’s about the only Southeastern state we haven’t lived in.

Photo Disclaimer –  I don’t know those girls or the school they attend. I did a Google search for Texas Mums and this was the first one that popped up. Apparently, it came from Pinterest. Whatever, if you find this post and you know these girls and want me to take it down just message me and let me know.



Not a lot scares me. I will try pretty much anything once.  I squash my own bugs.  I do my own stunts.  Of course, I’m apprehensive about some things.  I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t feel that way from time to time.  Yet, I only have two real genuine fears.  The first is dying young like my mother.  I’m afraid I won’t get to see my children into adulthood; that I won’t get to see them become decent people and productive members of society.  My second fear builds off the first.  I’m afraid for the safety and security of those I love, especially my children.  I’m afraid something will happen so that they will not reach their full potential.  That second fear has many addendums to it. The fear they will be injured or killed. The fear they will make poor life choices. The fear of war or global societal collapse that would prevent my kids from reaching their goals in life.

Over the past few years, I have added yet another addendum to that second fear.  I fear for my son and how society is and will treat him because of his gender. Over the last 20 years and certainly over the last year, it seems like being born male is the worst thing that can happen.  Our society seems to have a bullseye on anything and everything that has to do with being male.  As a mother of a boy and a girl, I am not okay with this.  I expect, no scratch that, I DEMAND, both of my kids, regardless of their sex, get a fair shake at life.  I have been wrestling with this topic since I started this blog last November.  I have a lot to say on the issue. So much to say that I’ve written at least 10 blog entries only to delete each one and start again.  I have done research, gathered quotes, read other blogs and think pieces and I still couldn’t find the right words.  Then I read an article posted on the Today Show Facebook feed that said everything I wanted to say but somehow could not. I applaud the author, Nadine Bubeck, for having the guts and voice to speak out and say what needs to be said.  I’m begging everyone with a child to read what she wrote.

Regardless of political or social leanings, if we truly want equality for EVERYONE we have to stop building up one gender/race/orientation/etc. and tearing down the other. Didn’t we learn this stuff in kindergarten?  Be nice, treat everyone with respect and clean up your own mess?  It shouldn’t be that hard people.




Just Stuff

img_1781Why are we as humans so hung up on stuff? Why do we get sentimental over inanimate objects – things that can neither truly receive or give love? Why do we attach human emotions to those objects? Yeah, I came out of the gate swinging with some big heavy questions didn’t I? The reason for all this deep thought and questioning comes from a recent experience with a loveseat.

Like most newlyweds, my hubs and I had a lot of hand-me-down furniture in the first couple of years we were married.  A couple of pieces included a living room set that belonged to my parents. It was a horrible, cigarette smoke smelling, early 90s Williamsburg blue plaid that fit perfectly with my Mother’s Country/Folk art motif. In other words, it was awful even with a cover over it.  After a couple of years of marriage, we went to Bassett Furniture and bought our own set which matched our person style – very traditional.  The hubs bitched the entire time we were picking out fabrics and signing contracts about how much it was costing us. In truth, compared to our annual salary, we were spending a crazy amount of money for this furniture.  He even threw down the gauntlet by stating, “This furniture better last 20 years like my parent’s sofa. If it doesn’t then it’s overpriced crap.”  I rolled my eyes and basically told him this furniture won’t last that long. It can’t because new furniture isn’t made to last.

That set, purchased in 1998, has since been put through the wringer.  It has seen multiple moves, pets, children and more spills than I can count.  A few pieces have been replaced over the years with cheap pieces that only lasted a year or two, but the loveseat remained.  Make no mistake, this piece is not in good shape.  The seat cushions are threadbare on both sides. The back cushions have come unsewn from the back of the couch and just the other day I noticed the arm fabric is coming unstitched from the frame.  The springs are totally shot and if you lift up the cushions you’ll find a board so that when you sit your butt doesn’t hit the floor. It’s an eyesore. And, yet, I can’t manage to part with it. Much like the van from a few months ago, this loveseat represents so much more than a place to sit and watch tv.  It’s one of the first grown-up purchases the hubs and I made as a couple. It’s the place we watched countless family movies.  It’s the place where we cuddled with the kids when they were small and sometimes now when they let us.  It’s my dog’s favorite bed even though I know we shouldn’t allow him on the furniture.  It’s been part of a pillow fort and an occasional bed.  Ironically, the loveseat technically lasted 20 years just like my Mother in Law’s old couch. It has been well loved. And, yes, the photo for this blog is a picture of the 20 year old loveseat.

As one can imagine, it was very nervous when we entered a Basset store a few weeks ago.  I knew it was time. We had to do something. I’ve seen nicer furniture in frat houses compared to what we currently have.  We picked out a lovely couch, loveseat, and chair.  The set is due to be delivered at the end of this week or first of next. Once again our living room will look like grownups actually live here instead of broke college kids. But, I’m dreading hauling that old loveseat down to the curb. Even though I know it’s ‘just stuff’ that holds no real value its the memories with that ‘stuff’ that gets me every time. I guess I’m just too sentimental for my own good when it comes to certain ‘stuff’.