Wednesday, March 31, 2010


Okay, I've been a bad LIBer.  Bad, bad, horible bad.  I've gained 3.5 pounds since we started.  In truth, my heart was in it to begin with, but then my mod from hell came around and I lost all motivation.  I'm now a few weeks past my mod from hell, but still haven't found a lot of motivation.  Today, however, I went for a walk with the rest of the Education team and it was fabulous!  I did realize that as much as I love the elliptical machine, it does nothing for the anterior tibialis muscles (shin muscles), which were killing me on our short, thirty minute walk.

There's no way I am going to win this LIB challenge with all of the fabulous women who are actually doing it and losing weight, but I'm not going to give up.  Not at all; I just know that I have to make my health a priority, the college isn't going to fall apart if I leave my desk for a thirty minute walk every day.  I might even re-start my Wednesday Weigh-ins.

I've got stuff I want to do this summer and being healthier would make them all more enjoyable.

Too Cute For Words

Uncle Scamp, the babies, Gizmo

Not A GunDiva and Niece #2

Niece #2

CJ, Ashinator, Niece #1, Not A GunDiva

Niece #1

Not A GunDiva, Nephew, Mom

Monday, March 29, 2010


So, three of my give-away winners didn't claim their books.  Know what that means?
It means that I got to plug more names into the Random Name Picker and choose three more winners!
I chose from the 200th post commenters, not including family (sorry Mom and Bill), previous winners or those who didn't claim their books.  What that means is that even if you commented late, you were included the drawing this time around.

Crazy Sweet: T!nK

Cutting Loose: Sara

Loose and Easy: Shannon O'Donnell

I've got all of the other books packaged and ready to ship.  Y'all have no idea how hard that was to do, because I've loaned out my entire set and I just love these books.  It took all of my self control not to just sit down and read them all from start to finish before I mailed them out.

Saturday, March 27, 2010

Things I Heard At The Gun Shop

First, thank you to Princess of Sarcasm, who launched a great response to Gregory J, who did some major fly-by insulting of multiple blogs two days ago.  See the ultra cool button on my sidebar.

So...on to things I heard yesterday:

From the gunsmith:  "How's this go back together again?"

Discussion about customers who come in to buy a gun for protection:
"I want a gun for protection"
"Great, what are you looking for?"
"I don't know.  Something cheap."
"Yeah, couple hundred dollars."
"Really?  Your life is only worth $200?"  Yeah, that's what we want to say, but that's not what we're allowed to say.  Dang it. 

Of course, the 'cheap' guns keep us in business with all of the repairs they require.


And, just for fun, a little story about one of my defensive pistol matches.

We shooters are always looking for new "scenarios" to try out in our defensive pistol matches and some of them are rather creative, like the time the bad guys attacked while we were in a simulated toilet with our pants around our ankles.  The designers of that stage actually brought boxers for "realism".  But that's not the story I'm gonna tell today.

A few years ago, Tom Cruise made a movie named Collateral.  A gun lover's wet dream.  Wouldn't you know it, the match following the release of the movie of course had a scene from the movie we were to replicate.

This is the scene from the movie:

It's a "fast rock draw" followed by a classic Mozambique (two to the chest, one to the head).  In a fast rock, you draw one-handed and shoot from the hip.  No problem.

My turn at the line, I get ready.

The buzzer goes off.

My right hand goes to the gun and I draw, clicking off the safety.  At this time, I hadn't been shooting my .45 very long, and didn't have a whole lot of rounds through it single-handed, so I brace my wrist against my ribs.

I press the trigger, feel a "whap" - like someone had just driven my nipple through my spine - hold my breath, press the trigger a second time and transition to the Mozambique.  After I finish the stage, I clear my weapon, re-holster and finally let my breath out.

When I look down, I find a perfect outline of my rear sight on my shirt. 

Yeah, being the dumbshit I was, when I braced my wrist against my ribs, I didn't give any thought to the twins being in the way.  When the slide moved back, it whacked the ever-lovin' shit out of me.  I had the presence of mind to move the gun away from my side before I shot my second round, but it wasn't until after the stage was done that I realized what had hit me.

Sadly, that was the first stage of the day, so I spent the rest of the day moving stage to stage with my gunpowder tattoo on my right boob. 

GunDiva FAIL!

Friday, March 26, 2010

Adventures of Ashinator

It's been a very long week.

^Mother tried to kill me.

"It was like an orgasm in my mouth. My tastebuds are quivering with pleasure."
^Mmm, the Melting Pot.

"Yeah, she could tap dance. That's like a seizure on shoes."
^No comment.

"LOOK! Big lips!" -Cousin
"That's not what we used to call them..." -Ash

"I play with my boobs at night. They're soft."
^This one explains itself.

So, Mom's bloggers, it's been quite the week. My boyfriend's psycho mom, tattoo, unhealthy obsessions with Michael Jackson and Eminem, and trying to find a way to survive this last quarter of junior year. But, in the coming week we have prom dress shopping with mom, two of CJ's lacrosse games, lunch with his SANE dad, and people who have an amazing ability to piss me off. Sounds promising. Right?

Bye bye butterfly.

Wednesday, March 24, 2010

Things I've Learned

I worked in medicine a long time and along the way have stock piled some tips and tricks that might make your lives a little bit easier.  This is just a quick list of things that popped into my head.

So, here we go...
  • When you have to do hemoccult cards, it is easiest to wipe and then use the sticky-thingy to scrape a sample off of the TP and put it on the card.
  • However, if you must collect stool samples (always a joy), drape the back half of the toilet with Seran Wrap, do your thing, pour off any errant pee (there's always some) and collect your, um, bounty.  Then roll the left overs off of the Seran Wrap and flush it.  Wash your hands.  Thoroughly.  Twice.  Really.  You've just played with your own poop.
  • To collect stool samples on babies, find the cheapest plastic diapers you can find and put them on the baby inside out.  This does not work with those "cloth-like" diapers.
  • Ladies - if you're ever prescribed antibiotics, eat yogurt every day to prevent yeast infections.  It doesn't have to be that over-priced Activia; the live cultures are what makes yogurt, well, yogurt.  Buy the cheap stuff on sale.  This also works for kids who are on antibiotics to prevent upset stomachs and diarrhea.
  • Guys - if the unspeakable happens and you end up on Viagra, be sure to take it with Tylenol.  It will prevent the headache.  'Cause let's be honest, "Honey, I've got a headache" is the woman's line.
  • Liquid antacid, such as Maalox, is most excellent for diaper rash.  Just put it on a cotton ball and wipe it on.  It neutralizes the pee 'n poop, coats the skin, and is a whole lot easier to wipe off at diaper change time than any of the diaper rash ointments.  (Wish I'd known about this when Digger ate a whole ton of green chili as a toddler and ended up with acid burns on his little butt.)
  • Full strength hydrogen peroxide is God's gift for blood removal.  Just pour on the blood and watch it disappear.  (Wonder if Luminol will still find the blood if it's removed with peroxide?)
  • Original Tampax, cut into thirds, work wonders on nose bleeds.  Just shove a piece into the bleeding nose; the expansion of the tampon puts pressure on the bleeding and controls it.  While we're on nose bleeds, don't tip your head back.  The blood will drain down your throat and make you nauseous.
And here's a big one:
Every. Single. Pharmaceutical house has a patient assistance program.
They've always had them; it's like the biggest, best kept secret in medicine.  If you can't afford your daily meds, search their website or have your doctor's Medical Assistant get you the patient assistance application.  Takes about ten minutes to fill out, attach a prescription from your doctor and send it in.  They will send you a three month's supply of meds for a small price (most of the time, it's free, but some have a sliding fee scale).  It's good for a year, so every three months you'll open your mailbox to find a little gift from your friendly drug company.

Thank You Very Much GregoryJ.
Because of you, I've had to enable comment moderation.
Because one person can't play nice,
the rest of my friends have to jump through an unnecessary hoop.
Go ahead, put another notch on your "Victory" page.
It'll be the last from me.


My good friend and fellow GunDiva, Tara Janzen, is an amazing author with more than twenty years as a published author.  We met when she was doing research for her current series.  I just happened to be the lucky co-instructor in her pistol safety course.  We clicked and quickly became shooting buddies. I was there when she learned to become one with her rifle; it really was beautiful and magical.

As an invisible writer, I was initially star-struck to meet a real, honest-to-God, paid author.  With seemingly millions of books to her name.  As we became better friends - and after I was "killed" over and over again at the gun shop for a scene in one of her books - I finally broke down and asked her to read some of my work.  She was honest.  I love her for that.  What I had presented to her was crap, though she was kind enough not to put it that way.

She was also the one, who, after reading some of my stories over at Tales, told me those should be published.  Since she'd been honest in her review of my previous work, I knew it was high praise.  She gave me the courage to submit my query.

Not only do I count her as one of my dearest friends, she's a hell of a writer and I love her books.  Since I love them so much, I thought I'd share with you.

Crazy Hot: Michelle Pixie

Crazy Cool: Mad Woman

Crazy Wild: Mrs Mom

Crazy Kisses: K Erickson

Crazy Love:  Dual Mom

Crazy Sweet:  Ian

On The Loose:  Vinomom

Cutting Loose: Life with Kaishon

Loose and Easy:  Foursons

...and, finally, Breaking Loose goes to Taylorvillegirl

Please email your physical addresses to me at so I can get them in the mail to you ASAP.  I hope you love them as much as I do.  And, guys (no - really - the penised-Americans) who read my blog, if you've won one of these books, don't let the cover put you big, bad Marine brother loves them!  He just hides them inside a Playboy or some other such manly thing.

Any books not claimed by Sunday evening will be re-gifted, so fair warning.

Thank you to everyone for helping me celebrate my 200th blog post!

Tuesday, March 23, 2010

True Story Tuesday - Mommy Fail!

As always, thanks to Rachel and Mr. Daddy who host this little "embarrass ouselves" party each week.
Head on over there for some more horrifying, "I can't believe he/she did that, I'm so going to use this as a bribe/extortion against my blog buddies" stories.

Mommy Fail

Many years ago, when my children were still small and cute we joined my parents for a vacation to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico.  I was super excited because it was the first "real" vacation my children and I had had together (and, quite possibly, the last - after all, I was a struggling single mother of three who wasn't getting any child support.  Life is very different now).

Monster, my youngest, was seven years old at the time and  prone to not being able to sit still.  He still can't.  The thought of him strapped into an airplane for more than, oh, five minutes, was not a pleasant one.  But we were going to Mexico, by God, and he was going to have to sit still and not get us thrown off the plane.  Even he was worried about how he was going to get there alive.  I assured him I had a plan, for I know very well the virtues of the extra-label use of Benadryl, so I bought some cherry-flavored children's chewables.  I assured him that the Benadryl would just make it easy for him to sleep on the plane and that when he woke up we'd be in Mexico.

Worked like a charm.  Dosed him up when we got to the gate and by the time we took off, his little head was nodding.  Score one for Mommy.

A few days later, we went out on a party boat (no, that's not the Mommy Fail) for some snorkeling and a lunch at a "private" island (which must have been co-owned by about forty other party boats).  Then we sailed over to another island for a hike back into a pretty waterfall.  The day was going beautifully.  Well, except for the chaffing on poor Digger's thighs from the lining of his wet swim trunks during the hike (no, that's not the Mommy Fail either!).

On the way back to Puerto Vallarta, there was music and dancing on the deck.  We all had a good time dancing around, right up until Monster stepped on a bee and got stung.  He dropped like a rock and started crying (hell, I would have too).  One of the crew scooped him up, took him to the bar and ordered up some tequila.  He poured the tequila over Monster's foot, scraped the stinger out and then put a cotton ball soaked with tequila on the sting.  Monster was in heaven.  For the remainer of the trip, if his cotton ball began to look like it was drying up, we had to put more tequila on it.

We got back to the condo without any problems or any further complaints from Monster about his foot.  The tequila seemed to have done its job of numbing up the bite.

At bedtime, though, his little foot started to itch and burn, so I went to get the Benadryl.

As soon as he saw me with the Benadryl, he wailed, "I don't want to go to sleep!  I want tequila!"

And that, my dear blog buddies, was the Mommy Fail.

It took a long time to convince him that Benadryl was actually for bee stings and that the sleepiness was just a bonus.  I don't remember if we ever got him talked into taking the Benadryl or not, to be honest.

Yay!  Y'all've just read my 200th post!!!
I had no idea, when I started this blog, where it would go, or if it would go anywhere at all.
I was clueless about blog etiquette (still am for the most part - there are so many "rules"),
But I'm getting the hang of it.
I didn't know if anyone would read my blog, other than my family.
And then I got my first followers and they've been so loyal (Thanks K. and T!nK),
My own bloggy support group.
In the past year, new followers have signed up and stayed with me.
How crazy is that?
I've never done a give-away before, but I thought I'd give it a try.
Don't count on it happening often.
But that's a whole different story.
So...comment away...
Ten randomly drawn commenters will receive a copy of a book from my favorite GunDiva,
Tara Janzen.
Be sure to check back for the winners!
And, please, for the love of God, if you've never commented before,
Quit lurking!
You may miss out big.
Really big.

Thank you, everyone, for helping me celebrate my 200th post.  I entered everyone's name (well, except Allenspark Lodge) into a Random Name Picker provided by and chose ten winners, who will be announced tomorrow (Wednesday, March 24th).

Monday, March 22, 2010

Two Year Meetiversary

I pulled into the parking lot of Barnes and Noble a ten minutes before we'd agreed to meet.

And stayed in the car, staring at the entrance.

What if he doesn't show up?  He's the one who suggested this place.  But what if what's going on with Monster was enough to scare him off?  I should just go home.  I'm a mess, I have no business here.

I stared at the front entrance some more.  Then stared at the clock in my dashboard.  Then stared at the entrance.  I may have thrown up a little bit too.  My hand reached for the door and then dropped back into my lap.

What are you thinking?  Get moving!  I can't.  What if he's an asshole?  What if he's a really great guy, but he hates me?  Get moving!  Am I insane?  Damn, should have worked harder on losing some weight.

I stared at the front entrance some more, watching people go in and out.  There was no one pacing on the sidewalk, looking as nervous as I felt.

What if he stands me up?

I watched some more people go in and out of the entrance.  My hand crept toward the door again.  I actually managed to touch the door handle before my hand fell into my lap.

How am I going to recognize him?  I've only seen pictures and I'm lousy about faces.  Shit!  I hadn't thought of that.  How will I know it's him?

Oh, for Christ's Sake, girl, put your big girl panties on and Let's Do This!

I took a deep breath, grabbed the door handle, threw the door open and got out of the car before my mind could figure out what my body was doing.  I closed the door, leaned against it and maybe threw up a little again.

Now what?  Stop stalling and just go!

Once my body was freed from the confines of the car, it seemed to know what to do.  One foot in front of the other across the parking lot and up onto the sidewalk.  A quick glance in the window.

Oh my God!  There he is!

All I could see was his back, but I knew it was him.  I gained confidence as I entered the doors and turned to my left.  There he was, walking toward me with a long-stemmed red rose in his hand.  We hugged forever and I felt him shaking like a leaf.

Poor guy, he's in worse shape than I am.

When he spoke, even his voice shook.  We found a table near the coffee shop and started talking.  I couldn't take my eyes off of his; the shirt he was wearing made his green eyes look blue, and his eyelashes were unbelievably long.  I was jealous of those eyelashes.  I even noticed his nose - people pay a lot of money to have a nose like his.  Who notices stuff like that?  Someone who's head-over-heels for a guy she'd only ever "spoken to" via email.

He shook for an hour.  We talked about everything under the sun.  I fantasized about curling up on a couch with him.  He was a cuddle bug, I could tell just by looking.

Four hours later, we both agreed that it was time to part.

An hour after that, we actually left the store.  He said he had something for me in his truck, so I went out the back way with him.  He checked out my ass.  He denies it; I felt it.  At his truck, he reached in and handed me a picture he had drawn of me and Meeker.

He leaned in for the kiss, chickened out, and gave me a goodbye hug instead.

Back in my car, I felt something I hadn't in a long time.  Hope.  Despite having "hope" tattoo'd on my ankle, it was hard to hold onto.


Hard to believe that was March 22, 2008, two years ago today.  Seems like we've spent our whole lives together.

I love you, Sexy Man.

Tomorrow's the big Two-Oh-Oh! 
Come join in the fun and maybe you'll win one of my favorite things!

Head on over to Jack Sh*t, Gettin' Fit for some funny weight loss stories -
One of them is mine!

Sunday, March 21, 2010

The Family That Inks Together, Part II

Not so very long ago, Digger got a tattoo from RockCrawlinChef as a Christmas present.  Since then the Ashinator's been wanting one of her very own.  She wanted one so badly that she agreed to sign a contract that said this:

I, The Ashinator, swear not to ask for a birthday present for my 18th birthday, because I'm receiving a beautiful tattoo paid for by my lovely mother.

Thank you very much (:

The Ashinator, 3/16/10
Because I'm not really sold on where she wanted to put her tattoo, I made her add an addendum:

I, The Ashinator, cannot be mad at my mother when I'm thirty and I hate having my tattoo on my forearm. 3/16/10
We've got the original posted on the fridge and this one out in the blogosphere, so we're covered now, I think.

She got her tattoo from the same shop that Digger did (I think they're the only ones in town who do minors with parent's consent - at least legally) and we sat for two hours.

It's a good thing she likes it, 'cause its fairly large, but is exactly what she wanted.  The Giving Tree with her sibs' initials in the bark and her great-grandparents' initials in the roots.  She's sentimental that way.

Don't forget!  My 200th post is coming up and ten lucky followers are gonna win something good!

Saturday, March 20, 2010

How Dare You!

I've been trying to figure out how to post this blog, as it's still painful for me, so if it doesn't flow or even make any sense, please bear with me.  This looks to be a long one, so pour yourself a drink and settle in.

Asheebutt and her boyfriend, CJ, have been together for eight months.  In high school years, they're an old married couple.  I adore CJ and am forever endebted to him for suggesting Dashurie as a pet instead of another dog.  As with any high school romance, theirs is by turns perfect and awful, but that's how we learn how to deal with "adult" relationships, right?  High school's just a proving grounds for what you want out of a relationship as an adult.

The morning of their eight month anniversary, CJ's mom texted Ash while she was in class.  Did she say anything nice?  Nope.  She started in with how my daughter's not good enough for her son and how there are so many other girls out there that are better for him.  Pretty upsetting stuff for a seventeen year-old to have to put up with.  Ash was angry, but basically told CJ's mom to get over herself and grow up (have I mentioned that I love this child?).  This was literally an attack out of nowhere.  Completely blindsided Ash. 

Later that day, during lunch, Ash told CJ what happened and CJ showed her all of the texts his mom had sent him.  Basically, they all said that he could find someone better and that Ash was cheating on him and was no good for him.  Again, completely out of nowhere and completely unfounded.

Now, CJ's mom, let's just call her Crazy Narcissistic Bitch, CNB for short, is unlike any other single mother I've met.  Most have been like me; just working their butts off to make life a little bit easier for themselves and their families.  Not CNB.  No, she's a stay-at-home single mother (not that that's bad, i just don't understand how she can afford to be a SAHM) who feels like she has to control every move her son makes.  Not that he's her only child, mind you, just that he's the one she's formed an unhealthy attachment to.  To hear CNB talk, CJ's the only child she's got.  I've never heard her acknowledge her daughters, one of whom lives at home with her and CJ.

There is so much wrong with this woman, I don't even know where to start!

So, after she managed to ruin their eight monthiversary, she got a little less hostile toward Ash, but that was temporary.  We're talking a day or two.  Now, Ash has been telling me for months that CNB is nuts.  Silly things like, they may lose their electricity because they don't have money to pay for it, but CNB went out and bought a Wii.  CJ has lettered in lacrosse for the last two years.  The kid wants a letter jacket.  That strikes a chord with me, because when I lettered in track, my mom did everything in her power to make sure I got my letter jacket.  They're not cheap, I know that.  CNB can't afford one because she'd have to do without something.  I can't even remember what it was she bought in place of the jacket, but it was a high ticket item for herself.  Her mis-management of money drives Ash up a freaking wall, simply because all CNB would have to do instead of whining about being broke is get a job.  (Yeah, I know the economy sucks, but there are jobs out there, it wouldn't kill the bitch to flip a burger or two.)

A couple of times, Ash has come home from CJ's upset about comments that CNB has made to her about how she was raised.  Now, my daughter will take pretty much anything, but you attack any aspect of her family and it's game on.  We talked about it and decided that CNB can pretty much believe anything she wants about how I raised Ash, but we know the truth, which is I worked my ass off to keep a roof over our heads and food in our bellies.  Yes, it meant I worked long hours and didn't see the kids a whole lot, but they know how much I love them and that I'd do anything for them.  We did without, but you can be damn sure we didn't lose our electricity because I wanted to buy something for myself instead.

Anybitterbitching, CNB's hostility has been escalating towards Ash, to the point that I wasn't comfortable letting Ash go to CJ's.  In fact, the last night that she went over there, we had a discussion about the excalating hostility and I warned Ash that if CNB laid a hand on her, I'd throw her ass in jail.  (What I would really like to do involves and empty lot and  many shovels full of dirt.)  Just as I dropped her off, I asked again if she wouldn't rather have CJ over to our house.  She declined, seeing, as I would have, that to do so would mean that CNB had won.

I dropped her off, went back home and was working on the computer when I got a phone call from Ash  Jokingly, I answered the phone, "Do I need to call the cops?"

What I got was my daughter sobbing, barely holding herself together long enough to say, "Mom, please come and get me."

"Honey, are you okay?"

"Just please come and get me right now!"  Her desperation reached through the phone and slapped me.

I jumped into my shoes and made the best time I've ever made getting to CJ's house.  I called her on the way to let her know I was coming and could hear CNB screaming in the background.  "Does CJ need to come home with us?" I asked.

"He won't leave.  Mom, she won't stop.  She won't stop."

I had no idea what CNB wouldn't stop doing, but whatever it was was scaring the everloving shit out of my daughter, so I asked, "Do I need to come in and get you?"

"No.  Just let me know when you're here."

I pulled up in front of CNB's house and called Ash to let her know I was there.  A giant part of me wanted to bust down the bitch's front door and run in to rescue my daughter, but the logical part of me reminded me that going to jail wouldn't help the kids out at all.

Through the enclosed front porch I could see CJ and Ash in the entryway, clinging to each other and sobbing.  CNB was nowhere in sight, which I took as a good sign.  A few minutes later, CJ walked Ash out to the car and they stood outside the car sobbing as though their lives had ended.  My thought was that CNB had forced them to break up, because they obviously were distraught (an understatement) and whatever had happened hadn't been by their choosing.

Ash collapsed into the car seat, buried her face in her hands and let loose.  I thought she'd been crying hard before, but that was nothing compared to the anguish that poured out of her.  I watched CJ trudge back up the driveway to his house, and collapse just inside the porch door.  CNB appeared at that moment.  She didn't even glance at CJ curled up in the fetal position at her feet, crying as though his heart had been ripped out of his chest.  No, instead she fixed her glare on Ash.  She stood in the doorway of the house, arms crossed, illuminated from behind and gave my daughter the death stare.  I've never, ever seen anyone as scary as that woman.  Hollywood's got nothing on CNB.

I let my car idle in front of her house for a few minutes, giving her a death stare of my own, before telling Ash to buckle up so we could go home.

I still haven't gotten all of the story out of Ash, but I can pretty well piece it together.  CNB had given permission for Ash to go over to the house to spend some time with CJ.  She then allowed them a half hour or so of time by themselves before she sprung the trap.  Just like her text attack on Ash, this came out of nowhere.  She came screaming into the room and started in on Ash, literally inches from her face.  When she ran out of vileness for Ash, she started in on CJ, but just for a breather, because before Ash knew it, she was back to attacking her.  Ash said that at a couple of points during the attack, she was sure that CNB was going to physically attack her and that she almost wanted her to, because then Ash could throw her in jail and CJ would be out of the situation.

Ashinator admitted to fighting back with some not very nice words that maybe I'm not so sad about teaching her after all.  My kids know that they have to be respectful towards adults, but they also know that I'll back them up every time in a situation like this.  I'm damn proud of my daughter for standing up for herself against that mad woman; I'm not sure I could have at her age.  Wait, I know I couldn't have done that at seventeen.

Throughout this whole thing, what was Ash upset about?  CJ being stuck in that abusive household.  She was upset about what CNB said about me, but she was devastated that CJ had to live with her.

I know this post has gone on forever, so let me wrap it up (which may still take a little bit of time).  I got Ash home and safe.  CJ went to his dad's house, where his dad welcomed him with open arms.  They were both terribly upset - and rightfully so - so I took Ash over to CJ's dad's house for a little bit.  The man is delightful, despite what CNB had said about him.  He managed to calm both of them down and made sure Ash was home at midnight.

A couple of days later, I got a friend request on FB from CJ's dad.  We've been talking back and forth; my main concern is for CJ living in an obviously abusing household.  My daughter will never return to CNB's house - and she's the one who said it (I agree wholeheartedly) - because I may be a lot of things, but I won't allow my child to be abused by anyone.  This is what he had to say in one of the posts...

During our divorce I ordered a custody evaluation. CNB flunked her psychological evaluation. I believe she is suffering from a variety of personality disorders, if not outright bi-polar. She was shown to have extremetly unrealistic views of her own virtuousness (i.e. narcissism), and attempted to lie her way through the psych questionaire. The cocktail of prescription drugs that she routinely overuses certainly can't be helping. Despite the evaluator's conclusion that she had a very unhealthy "care-giving" relationship with CJ, had major issues regulating her anger, and was emotionally manipulative with those around her, the evaluator decided that, given his age, it was in CJ's best interest to let him decide where to live.
This breaks my heart, because the very next day, CJ moved back in with his mother.  This is a cycle of abuse (I refuse to pretty it up and call it a "pattern of behaviour" it's abuse, pure and simple) that he's grown up with and it's what he knows and is comfortable with.  How sad is that?

Crazy Narcissictic Bitch - How dare you do this to your own child?

He's a sweet, gentle-hearted soul. 

You are killing him a little more every day. 


Friday, March 19, 2010

Adventures of Ashinator

Today, I waved at a girl with my tongue.
She waved back.


There's nothing I haven't done, Woman!
Wait...that didn't sound right.


GunDiva:  "You alright?"
Ashinator:  "Yeah, why?"
GunDiva:  "You're quiet this morning."
Ashinator:  "It's seven a.m."
GunDiva:  "You do your best work at seven a.m."
Ashinator:  "No one's pissed me off yet!"

GunDiva note:  My 200th post is looming on the horizon!  It would be too cumbersome for y'all to send me a gift to commemorate the occasion, so instead I'll be giving ten of my followers (not family, sorry Mom, Bill and Deejo) a copy of some of my favorite books.  Stay tuned for details.

Tuesday, March 16, 2010

True Story Tuesday - Cuddling with a Sand Burr

Head on over to Once Upon A Miracle for more great TSTs!

If you've followed for more than a few posts, you know that the Zoo in the GunDiva/RockCrawlinChef household includes the Ashinator's pet hedgehog, Dashurie.  Dash really is a cuddlebug and a most excellent pet.

About a month or so ago, I was cuddling with Dashurie.  She'd snuggled in between the girls and was half-asleep.  We were just hanging out in the Ashinator's room; me and my grand-hedgehog (that better be the only grandanything in my life for a long time).

It was cold out, which always makes my nose run, despite the fact that she keeps her bedroom at approximately 100 degrees.  I should mention that Dash is easily startled.  I guess that's a trait of hedgehogs.  If something startles them, they curl up into a ball and the quills stand up.  It's actually kind of cute.

This isn't Dash, I've not managed to get a picture of her balled up.  This hedgie is courtesy of Blogger images.

I felt my nose running and sniffed.  Which startled Dash.  And caused her to ball up.  Right between the girls.  It felt a lot like having a million of these...

...sand burrs between the girls.  Now, keep in mind, it was still cold out, so I had multiple layers on (despite the heat in Ash's room), but those multiple layers did not stop those sharp little quills.  I was actually thankful that the girls are mine and not fake.  'Cause the fake ones would have leaked out of all of the millions of puncture wounds courtesy of Dashurie.

It took all of my self control not to drop her.  God knows what kind of damage would have been done by the weight of a dangling hedgehog.  Once I managed to disentangle myself from her, I put her back in her cage. 

Cuddle time was O-V-E-R.

Two nights later, as I was getting into bed, my chest was itchy.  So I scratched it.  And managed to scratch off a whole bunch of little bitty scabs from all of the puncture wounds.

Really, if making love in hay is anywhere near as painful as cuddling with a scared hedgehog, I'll take a pass!

(Mini Rant:  Where do those romance writers come up with that anyway?  Have they ever handled hay?)

Monday, March 15, 2010

A Belated Blog Bling Post

I am such a terrible award recipient. 

I was given a couple of awards and haven't acknowledged them.  It's not that I'm not thankful, I really am.  It's just that I've gone to writing the majority of my posts on the weekend when I have time and scheduling them out.  The last couple of weekends have been only one-day weekends and I know I should have made time to do this.  Please, Quixy and Janet, forgive me for waiting so long.

Janet at Stuff I Think About gave me this beauty...

I love Gerbera Daisies!  They were the flowers for our wedding.  I didn't have a whole lot of "musts" for the wedding, but Gerbs were at the top of the list.  In fact, I didn't even choose our colors, Ashee-butt did.  And they were perfect with the Gerbs (hot pink and orange).

Of course, there are rules and they are:
1. Post the award on your blog. (check)
2. Link to the person who gave you the award. (check)
3. Pass the award on to 12 of your favorite blogs, and share the links to their blogs. (Ummm, that's gonna take some time, I follow 120 blogs because I love them all.)
4. Let the bloggers know you've awarded them with this award.

Since choosing just 10% of my favorite blogs seemed like an unbearably daunting task, I let the numbers do the choosing.  If I don't like a blog, I skip on over it.  If I like a blog, I click follow.  The twelve blogs I've chosen are the ones that I follow that have the fewest followers.  I think they all deserve more, so check them out and maybe you'll find your new favorite.

12 Blogs (alphabetical order)
The same day, Quixy at Quixotic Life gave me this very cool award...

I can't really believe that someone gave me an award for my big mouth.  Cool, huh?
She didn't really lay out the rules, but I inferred that I needed to pass this on to ten commenters (since that's what she did).  I'm going to automatically disqualify Bill and Juanita at It's A Horse Life, since that would be cheating (they're my parents).

Ten Wonderful Commenters (other followers, please don't use this as an excuse not to comment, I love hearing from all of you)
K. and T!nk, it's not that I don't love you and your comments, but I always give you guys awards.  Thought I'd share the love this time around.

Sunday, March 14, 2010

K. Told Me So (A Zoo Update)

I have to start with an apology to K. Erickson over at Preachers and Horse Thieves (even if he did get to spend the day blowing shit up without me, never mind that I'm in Colorado and he's in Texas).  When I first posted the pictures of the brand new kittens, he told me that the white lab rat-looking ones would probably turn out cute.  To say I was skeptical would be an understatement.

Guess what?

No Name, Paleface, Little Grey Kitten

He's right.  They're kinda cute. 

So, K., I apologize.

They're now three weeks old and all look to be long-hairs.  Ashee-butt is set on keeping Little Grey Kitten and the other two are spoken for, so the kinda cute lab rat-ish kittens have good homes in five weeks.

Dashurie took her first bath today.  We were told just to fill a sink with baby shampoo and warm water and turn 'er loose.  So we did.  It became quickly apparent that the bathroom sink was too small for her, so for her rinse cycle, she got moved to the tub where she did lap after lap.

Who would have thought a hedgehog would turn out to be such a great pet?  In fact, Dashurie's part of this week's True Story Tuesday.

Hope everyone had a fabulous weekend.

Saturday, March 13, 2010

Thank God Friday's Over!

I didn't dare bump the Ashinator's post just to whine about my Friday, so you're getting it a day late.  Keep in mind that my Friday wasn't nearly as horrible as Dual Mom's.

This morning, I just. could. not. get. out. of. bed.  Yeah, it was one of those mornings.  So when Ashinator came screaming up into my bedroom, we had 5 minutes to get out the door.  I jumped into my jeans, pulled a shirt over my head and shoved my feet into my shoes.  While I was jamming my contacts into my eyes, I told Ash to start the car.  She asked where the keys were.

What do you mean, where are the keys?  They should be hanging up.

Guess what?  No keys hanging up.  RockCrawlinChef drove last night, maybe he left them in his sweatshirt pocket.  Nope.  Well, maybe he put them on the bookshelf.  Nope.  What about his bedside stand?  Nope.  Kitchen table?  No ma'am.  Still in the ignition?  Guess again.

During all of the panicked run-around looking for the keys, I noticed that Allie-bird maybe should have asked to go outside, 'cause she left a very large puddle on the living room carpet.  The GunDiva was not a happy woman, but, lucky for Allie, was unarmed.

A phone call to RockCrawlinChef..."do you have my keys?"

"Oops" was the answer.

Ash arranged another ride to work and I threw a pile of paper towels down on the carpet.  That's about the time that yesterday's very, very yummy lunch decided to bite back.  The next two and a half hours were spent in very, very (let's call it intimate) contact with the toilet.

Finally, the demons purged, I get ready to jump into the shower.  I turn on the water, wait for it to warm up, get one leg into the spray and the water changes from luke-warm to ice cold.  Son of a motherless goat, we were out of propane (my step-dad hooked me up with a propane water heater a couple of years ago - it's awesome and so much cheaper than electric or natural gas).  I knew that we had a full tank in the garage, but it needed to be changed.

I was muttering some of the words that the Ashinator obviously learned from me as I wrapped myself into a towel and slipped my bare feet into my obnoxious cowboy boots...
Had to give you an idea of how obnoxious they are.  Imagine them coupled with a small beached whale wrapped in a tan bath sheet.  Dead sexy, I'm telling you.

Still muttering those words that I maybe should not have taught my daughter, I head out to the garage, grab the new propane tank and step through the backdoor to the patio...or shall I call it the poopio?  Her highness, Allie-bird, can't be bothered to go out in the snow during the winter and chose to use our patio.  We knew she was doing it, but when it's buried under a couple of feet of snow, it's easy to overlook.

But guess what?  The snow's gone.  And that dog can shit.  A lot.  A lot, a lot.

I picked my way across the poopio, glad that I'd worn my shitkickers, hooked up the propane and finally took a hot shower.

The day eventually got better, but I was ready to crawl back into bed and call it a day all by 10:30 Friday morning.

Friday, March 12, 2010

Adventures of Ashinator

She's beautiful,
Bold and opinionated,
The GunDiva's daughter:
She's the Ashinator!
"People piss me off,"
The Ashinator

I was in the self check-out and the guy looked at me scanning my cough drops and asked if I was sick.
Really, dude?


Ashinator, shaking her fist: "Never again, I say!  Never again!"
GunDiva: "Or what?"
Ashinator, shrugging: "I don't know, it just sounds cool."


I'm gonna be such an angry driver when I have my license.
GunDiva in:  Fair warning for all of you Colorado drivers.


Ashinator: "Aaarrrrgggghhhh! F*ck me!"
GunDiva:  "Hey!  Pot-ty mouth!"
Ashinator:  "Yeah.  I must be your daughter."
GunDiva, hanging head:  "Shit."

GunDiva:  I have been chastised by the Ashinator, who told me that I "mommy-ize" her quotes and from now on, she will be writing the Adventures of Ashinator.  Lord help us all.  It'll be a fun time.

Thursday, March 11, 2010

Prince Charming Found His Soul Mate

Well, actually, Amanda bought him a little soul mate.  Her name's Lillie and she's beautiful.  A vibrant green with little yellow freckles (wow, she kind of sounds like Princess Fiona). 

Look closely, she's hiding on a leaf in plain sight.

We had to replace Prince's resin tree stump with a real log, which Lillie promptly claimed as her own.

Prince Charming is finally over being mad at me and allowed me to get a picture of his cute little face.

Unfortunately, not all was happy in froggy world.  I think they've got their differences worked out, but, well, let me tell you about it.

Lillie is soooooo little compared to Prince Charming.  I mean, she's approximately the size of his head.  On Monday afternoon, I dropped some crickets into their cozy little love nest.  I was afraid that the crickets were too big for Lillie, so I dropped a few more little crickets in.  She zoomed in on one and had a radar lock on one.  Just as she was ready to pounce, Fat Ass Prince Charming snatched up her cricket. 

She spied another cricket and was making her move when Prince Charming snatched the second cricket, literally, out from under her nose. 

So she double bitch slapped him.

I kid you not.

She leapt at Prince, landed a right across his big, fat mouth and followed with a left.

There was no doubt that she was *pissed* and put him in his place.

I don't think he's touched any more of her crickets since.

It may look like she's kissing his a**, but she's really just re-claiming "her" stump.

They've got their differences worked out and he's been very contrite ever since.

Wednesday, March 10, 2010

Don't Forget... head over to Tales to hear about Bill's poor Mustang attacking the trainer.


For anyone interested...the publisher received my query at 9:13 am on Monday morning (thank God for FedEx - it allowed me to cybersnoop).


And just for a little happiness this evening, I give you Baby Moose.  Click the link and relax for about four minutes - it's so cute!

Tuesday, March 9, 2010

True Story Tuesday - The Life of an Elementary School Teacher

As always, thank you to Rachel and Mr. Daddy for hosting this little weekly get-together.  Head on over there for some more fun-filled TSTs.

My sister, Not A GunDiva, is an elementary school teacher, and has been for several years.  She teaches 1st and 2nd grade, and while most of her stories have more to do with crazy loving, helicopter involved parents, on occasion, she gets one from a student that is worth sharing.

NAGD:  I feel frustrated when you don’t listen to directions and then you don’t know what you’re supposed to be doing.  When I give directions, do you understand what I am saying?
Student:  Yea
NAGD:  So, you are not confused with the directions?
Student:  No
NAGD:  Do you just have so much going on in your head that you can’t focus on what I’m saying? GunDiva in: why would you ask a seven year-old that?
Student:  Yea, because I have to remember everything so I can get into college and it’s a long time away and there’s a lot to remember!  GunDiva: Oh, I guess that's why.

Okay, there's a big difference in the interactions between my sister and her elementary students and me and my college-age students.  Here's how the exchange would look if it was me and one of my students...

GD:  You know, it really pisses me off irritates me when I give directions and you still don't know what you're supposed to be doing.  Was I unclear?
Student:  No
GD:  So the directions are clear and you understand them?
Student:  Yes
GD:  Then why the fuck should I repeat them again? 
Please, please let NAGD's student grow up to be one of mine, because he at least is trying to remember everything he needs to know for college.


Follow up to last week's TST:

RockCrawlinChef managed to dig up this picture of Scamp's face when he pounced on me...
Okay, so maybe Scamp was saying, "Good Lord, cork it up!"

Monday, March 8, 2010

Voyeurism Via Email


Now that I've got your attention, I'm guest posting today over at T!nK's place, This Is How It Feels.  He's taking a little bloggy vacation and asked some of his blogging buddies to contribute a love story of their own.

My contribution isn't exactly a love story, but it is the story of the first time I met the RockCrawlinChef in real life; it's an email that I sent to my friends after our first meeting.  I'm pretty sure after six weeks of emailing multiple times a day and our initial meeting, I was head-over-heels in love with the Chef, but couldn't admit it to myself. 

Hop on over to T!nK's if you're just dying to see how screwed-up, mixed-up, I-don't-know-which-end-is-up I was over meeting him for the first time.

Sunday, March 7, 2010

Just Because We Can...

It's great having teenagers.  They're at the age that you can torture them in the name of making their parents laugh at the kids' discomfort.  Case in point...

Last Friday, RCC and I decided we'd run to dinner after a thing that the college was hosting.  As we were finishing up dinner, I looked at my phone and realized that it was after ten and that Ashee-butt hadn't contacted me yet, so I texted her.  Here's the text convo:

GD:  Where are you?
AB:  On my way.
GD: From?
AB: M's.
GD:  K
AB:  Is okay if they stay over?
GD: Say what?
AB:  Can they stay over
At this point, when the text came in I was busy paying the tab, so RCC took the phone and sent this message:

RCC as GD: We're having sex tonight
AB:  What?!?!
In no time at all, she called my phone:

AB: Moooooooooooooooommmmmmm! We were parked in front of the house and I was getting out of the car when you sent that to me.  I got back in the car and shut the door.  Why did you have to do that?
GD:  I don't know.  Why don't you talk to RCC about it?
AB:  Mooooooooooooooommmmmmm!  Why don't you guys just go to a cheap motel if you've got to do that!
GD:  Here, honey, why don't you talk to RCC?
I handed the phone to RCC so he could talk to her.  I only heard his side of the conversation, but it went something like this:

"Why would I pay when it's free to use my own bed?....They can stay, but you might want to warn them it might be a little loud...They'll have to bring some headphones or something...well, 'cause there might be some banging around.  It'll be loud...okay, see you later."
And, that, my dear followers, is just one reason why my children will be in therapy their entire adulthood!

Thursday, March 4, 2010

Resolution Check-in

Remember this resolution?  It would be the resolution that I would write, write, write.

The dedicated writing time hasn't happened. 

The 1500 words a week hasn't happened.

Well, then, why the heck are we having an update?

'Cause one part of my resolution has happened (albeit late, but it's happened).  I just sent my query letter, author bio, and three sample stories from TALES FROM THE TRAIL off to the publisher.

I know that in real life, the chances of being published, especially the first time out the gate, is slim to none.  However, the worst thing that can happen is that they can say "no", which is actually better than what they would say if I never submitted anything.

Would you all, please, please, please, send good vibes to Johnson Publishing in Boulder for me? 

Yes, I'm begging.

Wednesday, March 3, 2010

A Double-Dose of Mrs. Mom

Mrs. Mom is guest blogging over at Tales from the Trail today, so be sure to jump over there to see her.  Once you've busted your funny bone reading about the wild ride she had, be sure to read the follow up to her Very Bad Day post.  She answers a lot of the comments she got about her run-in with the dredges of society and even throws in some statistics.  Gotta love those statistics!

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

True Story Tuesday - Get 'Em Scamp!

Again, thanks to Rachel and Mr. Daddy at Once Upon a Miracle for hosting this little party.

One night, I was stretched out in bed on my tummy, just settling down to sleep when I felt a little gas bubble shift.  Not a big deal, RockCrawlinChef and I had breached the fart barrier long before we got married, and besides it was just a little gas bubble.  Heck, he'd never even know (not that it really mattered).  So, I let loose, expecting a little pfffft.

What I got instead was a full-on butt belch.

Scamp had been playing with Allie at the foot of the bed, pouncing on Allie's wagging tail.  But at the sound of my not-at-all-little-pfffft, he changed directions...

...and landed with both paws right in between my cheeks.  I could almost hear him thinking, "I got it!"

RockCrawlinChef disagrees.  He swears Scamp was thinking, "Good Lord, cork it up!"

Monday, March 1, 2010

Mrs. Mom's Very Bad Day

No, I'm not Mrs. Mom, but she's a fellow GunDiva and the experience she had today just reinforced my belief in my Right to Keep and Bear Arms (not that it needed reinforced).  She's scheduled to guest over at Tales from the Trail on Wednesday, but I think that y'all need to hop on over to her blog and read today's post.