THE BRAIN DONOR

Demon #1 as a brain donor

A HALLOWEEN "DUH, MOM"

Happy Halloween everyone!

I crawl out of bed at 4:30 this morning to find Demon #2 awake. "I woke up at 2:00 and couldn't get back to sleep" Yesterday morning she was up at 4:30 and never went back to sleep. This morning I checked the living room at about 6:30 and she was out like a light again, so somewhere between 6-6:30 she fell asleep. I try to wake her up and her eyes just won't open, no matter how hard she tries or I try. She just can't get herself to wake up. I know she hasn't been sleeping well, so I ask her if she just wants to stay home and miss the Halloween party at school. We are one of the few districts left in the country that allows kids to dress up for Halloween... and we celebrate Christmas too!
She wants to stay home, regardless of the party. So I call school and tell them the truth - the waking up at 2:00, the whole works. They said I can bring her in when she wakes up - the sympathy runs pretty clear with our school secretaries, they are so sweet.
So she wakes up around 9:00 and I ask her if she wants to go to school. No. She says she has a headache.

"You'll miss the Halloween party"

"It's ok, I really don't like Halloween parties"

This is where I should have figured it out.

"Ok, but no computer."

"What? Awww Mom!"

"Nope. Thats the deal. You can stay home, but you are home sick. Do you want to go to school instead?"

"No, it's ok, I'll just stay off the computer"

This kid must really not feel good.


"Well, we'll see tonight if you can go trick or treating, but you might not get to go, ok?"

"Ok>"

No arguing on that one? Huh?

DUH MOM.

What kid are we talking about here? This is the same one that since she was 2 years old has been scared to death of Halloween. She would scream bloody murder if you even tried to go past the Halloween aisle in a store!

Then came the movie Scream.

We own the mask, but it's hidden in the basement. She will not go into a room even if the mask is laying ALONE, by itself, on a table. She won't do it.

Every year it's the same thing - she goes out begging for candy, but doesn't last long. "I'm cold", "My feet hurt". That's not it at all and I know better.

Same with today. She doesn't want to go to school because of the costumes. She's afraid that there will be a scary one... and quite possibly a Scream costume. Call me a bad mom, but I'm not forcing my kid to go somewhere that will throw her into an anxiety filled fear. I won't do it. I should have figured this all out from the minute she hadn't been sleeping the past week - she's been scared of the upcoming holiday.

Duh.

The other Demon, she loves Halloween. Tonight she's going as a brain donor. We are taking a head of cauliflower, putting it in red food coloring water and wrapping her head up with gauze with fake blood. Today at school, she's a hippie. And the cat is a cowboy - or was for a few minutes.

A STRANGE THING HAPPENED

I need a belly pan for an Interceptor.

I need a what? For a what?

Yep, you heard me, it's happened. I'm starting to talk like a genuine snowmobile addict. I don't know when it happened or how it happened for even why it happened, but it has. Somewhere in the evil plan that I had a few months ago, the one about 'Ceptorlicious, it backfired on me. What started as a test to see if the husband would get me an Interceptor if I asked for one, when I'd been asking for a puppy, has ended up being my own demise. Something has overtook me... I'm actually starting to get into this whole project.

Someone help me.

I walked into the living room the other day and the husband was watching some auto-something show and I glanced at the TV and said "Hey honey, that's a piston!".

The smallest things make him proud of me.

DONTCHA HATE IT WHEN

You wake up with a fricken headache? Why bother going to sleep if you are going to wake up feeling like crap. Right behind my right eye, too. It's gone now. Thank God for prescription ibuprofen!

I'm off to work. Need to throw some new designs up at SledderWear today so they can be fresh & new for the show the husband is going to this weekend.

WHAT TO TALK ABOUT TODAY

I really have nothing to talk about, but I've noticed quite a few of you keep coming back. You must be checking for new posts or something. You guys really care about what I have to say? Wow! I'm honored! That's not even sarcasm - I really am. Considering all I seem to do is ramble, it's nice to know someone reads it.

Lets make this a boring post.

What did I do today?

I made a catalog. Yep I did. The husband is going to a snowmobile show in Michigan this week and wants to bring something along to show off my talents of designing. So I finally did it - I made a catalog of almost all my designs. Hey, I got lazy and cut it short. Sue me. It's the most cheaply made, cheapest looking catalog you'll ever see, but you know what? I made it all by myself!!

Look mommy! Look what I made!

I'm sure she's proud of her 34 year old daughter that she made something that her 11 year old granddaughter probably could have made better.

Sorry Mom, it's what you get.

Hey, have I ever told you about my mommy? There really isn't a lot to tell because honestly, it's sort of a sad story. I don't know her that well. She died when I was 7 but I still talk to her everyday. Its sort of funny actually, I will have whole conversations with her and I just go with what I think she would say. It's all I've got, so I take it.

Like I said, I don't know her that well, don't remember much at all. I do remember her smile though - God, do I remember that. It's like it was burnt into my memories by something that knew I would need that memory. I guess it doesn't bother me that I don't remember much about her because I can see her smile.

One nice thing is that I can never forget what she looks like. Like Demon #1 said once; all I have to do is look in the mirror. Life is funny that way. Of anyone who could look just like their mom, its someone who can only remember her smile. God works in mysterious ways.

Ok well that's starting to get a little sappy. Time to get that lump starting in my throat to go away.

I made a catalog today and went to the store. That was about it. Fun filled day.

Oh and I typed this.

Gotta run. 15 minutes of solitude until the demons take over... or less if they decided to walk home from school.

Kawasaki Snowmobiles - I am not the expert

I thought it was funny that this blog was getting Google hits from searches regarding Kawasaki sleds. Interceptors, Invaders... all of them. The husband didn't find much humor in it, though. If you notice on my sidebar there is a link to KawasakiTrax.com. Thats where you want to go for information on Kawi sleds. How I climbed the Google ladder, I don't know. All the information you would ever want or need to know is there. The site and the forums themselves is filled with information from the best group of die-hard Kawi fans out there. Are they experts? Sure they are! They are self-taught experts and what better way to become one, right! So if you stumbled into this blog because you are looking for something about your Kawasaki snowmobile, go there, not here. I just use this as a place to vent, bitch and brag really. (Read my posts on the upcoming 'Ceptorlicious - my very own Interceptor that is already pissing Kawi fans off and it hasn't even made it to our garage yet!) I'm just the wife of a Kawasaki addict, thats all.
And if you are looking for Kawi t-shirts, coffee mugs, sweatshirts and other gifts - thats where I can help. SledderWear.com is mine and it's my little part of the snowmobile world. But otherwise... head over to KawasakiTrax and yap with the guys - they will help you out!

TODAY'S LAUGH AT MY STUPIDITY

Ok you guys can have your daily laugh at this one -

We lived out in Idaho for awhile, moved there when I was in 5th grade and I moved back to Minnesota when I was in the middle of 6th grade (goofy story that I said "I" - I moved east, my parents moved west... someday I'll explain it. Not today. It's not a bad thing or anything... I wasn't a bad child!)
Anyway. One of my dad's favorite pastimes was driving to Yellowstone practically every weekend and/or through the mountains. It got pretty boring after awhile. So during one of those 1st trips - it might have even been the original move to Idaho, don't remember, he passed the time by telling me an old story about an Indian tribe that lived in the mountains. The Indian chief had a son that went wandering one day and never came back... they never found him. The chief got the governments help to get everyone to watch for him. Call it the first Amber Alert, if you will. Signs were posted everywhere throughout the mountains that this chief lived in that you were supposed to watch for his son... his sons name???




Falling Rock.



True fricken story. I looked for that damn Indian boy for the longest time!!! I was so stupid. And to this day my dad loves to tell that story to anyone who will listen.
For those who have never been in the mountains, there are signs everywhere that say "Watch for Falling Rock".
And to think I love my father more than anything else in this world... I should really hate him after that one.

Newsworthy

Remind me never to be famous. I don't want to go out for coffee one day and find out later it was a big news story of the day.
I mean, seriously, if the "news" isn't good enough to be more than one sentence long ... I just don't think people should waste their muscle use in their fingers typing it out just so someone like me can accidently click on it, thinking it's something good. I thought, at least, they walked away without paying.... or something.

In other celebrity news, my future husband has become a grandfather. Rumored at least. Go grandpa Mel! And congratulations to Hannah & Kenny... if it's true.

Snowball - Our Dancing Cockatoo

Nope... not mine. I wish! Just a random YouTube video...

UPDATE ON THE SHOES

If anyone is curious if the shoes were ever found - they were. After spending probably an hour of my day on Monday looking for these shoes, it did finally come to an end. Demon #2 came home from school and her first words were "did you find my shoes?"

"No"

"Did you check at Grandpa's?"

"Why would they be at Grandpa's? Didn't you wear your shoes home?"

"I don't know"

So later on it was time for her to go to Karate, so on the way we stopped at Grandpa's and I had her go in and check to see if her shoes were there while I stayed in the car.

It's more like I made her go in. She didn't want to. "Why don't you go check?"

"They aren't my shoes"

No shoes at Grandpa's. So we continue our journey to the high school for her Karate class. I'm doing the logical thing - backtracking her steps.

"Did you wear them to bowling on Saturday"

"Oh yeah, they are in your bowling bag" Now mind you, she says this like its the most natural thing - like she knew all along. She might as well said "duh Mom".

I then had to explain to her that she cannot wear my bowling shoes (hey, we wear the same size shoe, why should I buy her her own bowling shoes - only to lose them?) outside of the bowling alley! How many parents check their child's feet when they leave somewhere?

So when I got home from bringing her to Karate, I looked in the bowling bag. There they were. Were my bowling shoes should have been. And the bowling shoes? On the floor of the car. She switched into her sandals, which were in the car - that she lost the week before and couldn't find - when I picked her up from bowling on Saturday.

And no, I didn't even notice that my bowling shoes were on the floor when I checked the car during the day. It's a mom thing, get over it. I was looking for tennis shoes, not bowling shoes.

NEW STUFF

Lots of new stuff in the store.. I spent many hours the past few days working on it. So here's just a sample for you...




And some snowmobile ones...


And, of course, you know where to get them.... InsanityWear & SledderWear

The Pink Interceptor - 'Ceptorlicious

So a few weeks ago I mentioned to the husband that I want a Kawasaki Interceptor.

It's a snowmobile, follow along.

I want to paint it pink and call it 'Ceptorlicious. I'd name it Kittilicous, but that would look silly on a Kawasaki. Now if I had an Arctic Cat it would be a different story. They have leopard print, which you would think - if you knew me at all - would be what I want, but I can't because it's not a Kawasaki.

Vintage snowmobiles, aren't you following along?

From the minute I told the husband about my future plans for 'Ceptorlicious his head has been in the clouds. After years of trying to get me to get into this whole snowmobiling game, he's finally won. Or so he thinks. He even bought me a newer sled a couple years ago. I think I rode it once. It's up for sale if anyone is interested. It's a 1990-something Polaris. Neat looking sled, but I get cold when I'm on it, so I don't go on it.

I have no plans to ride the 'Ceptorlicious either. I just want it. So I'm getting it. Don't call me spoiled, either. I've been asking for a puppy for months and the husband refuses that, but I ask for a snowmobile and he's going to go to the ends of the earth for me.

Figures.

So anyway. One phone call and my Interceptor was found. I'll get it in November. Excitement is boiling through me so much I can't contain myself.

You just can't hear sarcasm on the net.

Yesterday I was out in the garage with the husband and I said that I changed my mind about 'Ceptorlicious - I don't want the whole hood pink.

"It wasn't going to be"

Huh? WTF? What if I wanted the whole thing pink?

"I've been thinking a lot about it and how to make it what you want, but still make it look like an Interceptor"

Wait a second. How does that sentence even make sense? He's been thinking about how I want it?? How about just asking me? If it's my sled, to do with as I please, then why should he think about it?

So 'Ceptorlicious will exist, but I think it will end up being the husbands pink sled, not mine.

All I wanted was a puppy.

THE FEAR OF BUYING SOMETHING NEW

The demons often ask me why I don't buy them more stuff. It doesn't matter that they both have a closet full of clothes that they haven't worn in months, partly because after a week of owning it they decide it's ugly. But whatever. I hear about how Suzie has a Wii....

Is that how you type th at out? I ain't looking it up, so deal with it.

...Johnny has a new bike.

Oh yeah, bikes. Last year they both got a new bike. The 3rd bike that they've each gotten since their first training wheels one. They both decide this year they want a new one! No way. I told them last year that this was it... this is the bike they were biking to college with. Both of them have full sized bikes, they are set for at least 20 years. They don't ride them anymore either, because they don't like them. Does their refusing to ride a bike rebellion think that I'm going to break down on this one? Who knows. These are kids afterall. Mom ain't breaking on this. No new bike until you are 30.

So last week both demons got new shoes. Demon #2 wanted skateboard shoes in the worst way when school started. She had to have them. She had to. She'd die without them. Fine, skateboard shoes it is. Funny how a month of Phy Ed she realized it probably wasn't the smartest idea. So I go out and buy her a pair of tennis shoes. That was Thursday. She wore them on Friday. Today is Monday. She got out of bed, got dressed, whined about how school is stupid and should start in the afternoon, opened a can of fruit cocktail for breakfast. A family size can. Geez kid, thats a weeks worth of your daily fruit intake.

Don't talk to me about the sugar.

So she does all this and it's getting to be that bus time so I tell the demons to get their shoes on.

"Mom, where are my new shoes?"

"I don't know, I didn't wear them last."

"I can't find them."

We look. Demon #1 looks. Demon #2 looks. No new shoes. She puts her skateboard shoes on and heads out the door. I then spend 15 minutes looking for these new shoes. Either a mouse took them into the walls or they just aren't here. Can't find them anywhere.

And they wonder why I hate buying them anything.

Oh... the fruit cocktail was never eaten. It was forgotten about in the search for the new shoes. It's now in the fridge getting crusty, I'm sure, because I didn't put a cover on it. If it makes it through the day it will become the after school snack. And if I find the shoes in the neighbors yard or someplace similar, the shoes will be for dessert.

WHY YOU WILL NEVER HEAR ME TALK POLITICS

It's not that I don't care about our country, it's not that I don't care about my children's future, it's because I love my family and friends. I purposely don't pay attention to anything regarding politics because I don't want to know enough to form an opinion so that I can sit and argue with my best friends. I hate the fact that once politics are brought up that the most polite, caring, loving people will suddenly throw jabs at each other and turn into blood-sucking hyenas. It's frickin' ridiculous.

Yes, I know hyenas don't suck blood.

This is short and sweet because, as I said, I don't talk politics. Maybe this is a warning for all of you who are looking for Kittilicious - The Opinion on Politics. You won't get it here or anywhere.

I decided that when the election comes around - I'm going to vote for the person who has the best last name that goes with my first name. Just in case I become 1st lady within the next 4-8 years.

That should piss someone off. Probably my husband more than anybody.

Lets go back to the basics

I'm a good mom. I taught my children that lying is bad early in their life. At least I thought I did.

Last night during a commercial break of House I told Demon #1 to pick up the junk that was in front of the entertainment center. (Or 'tainment center, as she calls it - even at 13 years old) The junk consisted of a book, a sock, 2 pieces of paper and 1 knee pad. She put the book on the 'tainment center, the sock on the couch and actually walked to the garbage can in the kitchen to throw the papers away. I was beaming with pride over that one.

Then comes the knee pad.

She walks to the front door to the entry way and walks in... walks out.

"Did you just throw that on the bench?"

"No."

"Ok"

We finished watching House and then went to bed.

This morning I go out into the entry way to have a cigarette. It's a closed entry way/porch, so don't freak out that I smoke in the house. I don't. I'm just not standing outside.

What do I find when I sit down on the bench? The knee pad. What was the pride I felt last night? So I wake Demon #1 up for school this morning with "Good Morning, you're grounded" and I walk out of her bedroom.

If that won't get a teenager out of bed quick.

I proceeded to tell her as she's falling out of bed, stumbling out her bedroom door whining "Why? Mom! What did I do?" that I taught her not to lie and she lied to me. She's grounded through the weekend. She argued with me saying that is the stupidest reason to be grounded, it's just a knee pad. I asked her if she had prom this weekend and, of course, that just irritated her because she knows I know she's only in 7th grade and 7th graders don't have prom. 7th graders don't really have a social life anyway so I know that she knows that I know I didn't ruin any life altering events.

I laugh at my Demons. And I tell them why. I asked her why she would lie about something that she knew I would find out about the next time I walked into the porch. "If you are going to lie, at least try not to get caught". Yeah, probably not the smartest thing to try to teach your child, but so far it hasn't mattered if a 13 year old is going to lie about something stupid like a knee pad.

So friends, here's the moral of the story. If you don't want to do what your mom says, at least stuff the knee pad under the cushion of the bench, just don't lay it on top in plain view. It just might save your ass from going to prom.

Men's nipples

Demon #2 (the 11 year old) yesterday...

Demon: Men should have to wear a bra. I don't want to see their nipples and when I stand next to a man his nipples are right here (as she makes the motion that they are eye level to her). Even with a shirt on, I can see their nipples. I don't want to see their nipples.

A different kind of wife?

I just don't get it, I really don't. So often I am called a good wife or the husband is told he is lucky to have a wife like me. Why am I so different? The problem is; his snowmobiles. But it's not a problem. Sure, he's got an addiction that doesn't seem to have a cure and I haven't heard of any rehab centers for snowmobile addicts, but why is that such a problem? Ok, so we have an unknown amount of snowmobiles and lets not even talk about the parts he has... he doesn't even know what he all has anymore! But can someone direct me to the direction of the actual problem? He goes in his garage, works on sleds, goes to snowmobile shows and talks smart or he is on the computer looking at sled porn.

For those of you who are not sure what sled porn is, it's worse than real porn. If the husband would look at real porn I could somehow relate - yep, she's got a nice rack, etc. But sled porn? It's a whole different world...

So out of the three things, thats it. Thats all he does. No bars, no gambling...

unless you count spending a grand on parts with the hopes of turning it around and making money on it, I suppose thats a gamble.

I hear the other guys talk about how their wives hate their husbands habit. Why? I don't get it. It's a snowmobile, not a woman. Sure, his excitement about sleds is sometimes pretty close to the same excitement he gets from me but I know I'll always win in the end. There's one guy who's wife actually got pissed because he got a free sled. WTF? It's free! How can you get mad at a free sled? It leaves me literally frazzled at how some of these wives think.

I was talking to a guy yesterday who asked if the husband was going to a certain show this weekend. I told him no, he had too many projects in the works that he had to get done and that I was grounding him to the garage this weekend. What kind of wife grounds her husband to the garage??? I guess a whacked out one.

Maybe the 2-stroke fumes have effected my brain.

Rock of Love

Had my notify thing set up days in advance for the Rock of Love Reunion Show. Now mind you, I only started watching it halfway through the season, but from what I saw from the recaps - I didn't miss much. Let me first say that I was surprised. Really surprised. A Jes & Heather hug? Wow. And for Jes to basically tell Bret & Heather they deserve each other? What a woman! Yeah Jes!

But let me also say that I hated Heather. I hated when she totally disregarded Bret needing to eat on their last date. When you are with someone, you keep their health in the back of your mind and if someone you know has diabetes and they say "I need to eat" your brain really should stop you and make you think twice. Lets hope there was some major editing going on there.
But hey... if Heather is really what Bret wants, more power to him! I can handle that. I've been a fan of his since the 80's and even got to see him in a little hick town ballroom in 92. (And yes, I have washed my hand since then!) He's a very sincere guy... at least from what the cameras show. I wish him the best and it was a great show. Had me hooked, thats for sure.

I gotta give Jes kudos for what she did - she didn't play the part that some would just for the fame part of it. She walked down her own road and made her own fame - crushing Bret on tv. But was it really crushing him? I don't think so... I think he got what he wanted in the end and Heather? The tears throughout the reunion showed her true feelings - she really does love Bret.

LMAO This picture just cracks me up! There's lots more over here.

William Tell Overture

Wow... incredible!

Cause I Am The Mom Song

Big Sky Carvers

Anyone need ideas for gifts for me this holiday season, look no further. Oh come on, I know you all want to buy me a present. Everyone wants to buy me a present! That is, everyone except my husband. He just throws money at me and tells me to go buy what I want. What fun is that? Where's the thought? Where's the surprise?

Anyway. Go here. Buy me that stuff. Take a chance that I don't have the one you are going to buy me.

But don't buy this one because I just bought it for myself yesterday.

Who's Your Daddy?

Last night was Parents Night at the swim meet. Demon #1 is in swimming. She came in last place, again, but I always tell her - somebody has got to be last. So after the meet we all meet in the school commons area for a round of desserts.

As we are waiting we keep seeing parents bringing up pans of bar, cookies and other yummy additions. Husband looks at me and says "Were we supposed to bring something?" I don't know, nobody said a word. As we wait, more and more pans of bars and plates of cookies arrive. "I think we were supposed to bring something" How am I supposed to know? Nobody said a thing to me. More time passes and the pile of calories grows. "I think we were supposed to bring something". I had to bite my tongue, but I wanted to ask him if he wanted to run home and bake a pan of brownies, but he was not happy to be there to begin with because it was so late at night. 8:30 late. Which is late for a lot of people, but really late for him since he starts beating his alarm clock at 2am. Hey, he's the one who wanted to be a truck driver!

So the party starts and the whole thing is, each swimmer gets to introduce their parents. They start with the bottom of the totem pole, the 7th graders, which does include our Demon. She's the last one to introduce her proud mommy & daddy. Even though daddy, by this time, is ready to just walk home. She stands up and says

"My name is Taryn - insert last name here - and this is my dad......."
long pause as she stares at him with her hand on his head.
".........."
I turn my head, hoping nobody realizes this is MY daughter who can't seem to remember her own father's name.
"........... Jason."
Everyone starts laughing and I'm dying. I'm hoping that nobody is thinking we just grabbed some bum off the street to pass off as her father or something.
The coach is a good sport, though, and she lightens Taryn's embarrassment with "How often do you call Mom & Dad by their first name?".

After we got home I did ask her, did you pass that "All about me" test in Kindergarten or not?

And about the bars & cookies. I'm pretty sure we weren't supposed to. I don't remember seeing any 7th grade moms or dads walk up with goodies.

The picture isn't from last night, but the look is pretty much the same. And her hair is wet, so that fits, too.

Subjects

So back to this journal subject thing and Mr Stromme. I was just out in the garage having a cigarette and I was thinking about that. He didn't give subjects/questions like "What did you do last night" or "What did you do on your summer vacation", he gave odd things like "Today's subject is 'a blue ball'". A what? A blue ball? What the heck are you suppose to write about a blue ball?

Now mind you, I don't have any of these journals, so I don't exactly remember if that was one of the subjects or not, it's just an example that I came up with.

Mr Stromme - if you ever read this. Try the blue ball subject. It could make for some interesting reading.

So you take some words like a blue ball and he left you sitting there with the most blank look on your face trying to be creative and come up with something that even came close to making sense or even came close to the subject he gave you. I think I blame him for my strange thinking. See, I think strange things. Random things that either nobody else thinks of or I am the only one that admits that I think these things. One day, in the shower, I started thinking. I mean, seriously, what else can you do while standing there waiting for the 60 second lapse time for the conditioner to properly work? I don't have one of those removable-put-where-you-want showerheads, so I have to just stand there thinking. So I'm standing there with conditioner in my hair and I wonder - if someone broke into my house right at that very moment and went all Psycho movie on me and killed me in the shower ..... would the funeral director rinse out the conditioner in my hair?

Deep thoughts, people, I tell ya. And it all starts with a blue ball.

Creative Writing Class

Remember back in high school in Creative Writing/Composition Class, whatever you want to call or did call it or do call it, the teacher had those writing journals that they insisted you have? I loved mine and wish I would have kept them all.

I took every writing class high school had to offer and I must say that in the 15+ years that I've been out of school I haven't taken the time to keep up on my writing skills. So if you are already bored with this blog, that's my excuse.

Anyway.

The journals. Each day our teacher... *here she goes again, off subject* Mr Stromme. He was the best teacher. Even invited him to my wedding, but that's a different story. He was funny, creative, loved him. He could talk, write and I think even possibly could do both at the same time.

Anyway.

Teacher. Journals. Yes, that's where I was at. Subject of the day. They picked the subject for you to write about each day. I loved that. Give me a subject and I can talk about it. But, see, that's whats weird about this whole blog thing for me... nobody is telling me what to write, so often times I sit here staring at the blank box wondering what I want to write about, what would someone like to read. I mean seriously, who really wants to sit and read about my days of laundry, letting the dog out, cleaning up cat puke and running my demons to and from activities?

Tonight it's choir at 6:00, Confirmation at 6:30. Two different demons, two different times, same place basically.

Is that really what people want to read? Is it really?

I don't know. Someone should give me a blog entry so I don't have to ramble so much.


To end... with a picture. Not mine, either. Just a picture of a tiger and a bear. Meow.

Meow meow big kitty cat

It's a baby puma! I always wanted a big cat. In fact, when I was a teenager I said I wanted to die in the jaws of a big cat. How stupid of an idea was that? I no longer wish my death to be the meal of my beloved feline friends, but I also don't want to own one anymore. I hate the thought of owning one, although what joy it would bring to wake up with big cougar eyes staring at you or tiger breath in your face! Nope, as much as that would be a dream, I wish to leave all my large friends where they belong - in the wild. Who gives me the right to cage one up? I cannot give them the amount of acres that they would need to hunt for their own food, find their own mate and raise their own cubs. And a fenced in area of no matter how much acerage couldn't give them that anyway. They need to be free... free to do as they please, when they please without humans always getting in the way.
I love to watch them at zoos, but it saddens me like you wouldn't believe. To watch a tiger lay in it's enclosure.. looking up at it's watchers. Amazing, right? Not really - what is he thinking? What is he feeling? If he was really wild he would run at the sight of a human, either that or charge them. We take them, cage them, put them on display for what? Education? Entertainment? It's so sad.
And then the public outcry when a zoo animal attacks. Common sense, people. Think about it. At some point enough is enough - even for a dumb animal.

Blogging

I always thought the idea of a blog was sort of silly, but I started one anyway. Out of bordem actually. But I really am sort of liking this.

The sounds of sandblasting

Thats what I hear. Actually it just sounds like air, but I know what he's doing so I can identify the sound. He's out there again. In the garage. With them. Them being snowmobiles. Yes, thats plural. How many? I lost count... 15? 20? I don't know. There isn't even the smell of snow in the air yet and I have lost him to the world of white. It's ridiculous actually.

He's building a racer this time. Some green thing. It's a Kawasaki, that much I'm sure of. Thats all he has. Kawasaki Interceptor, Kawasaki Intruder, Kawasaki Invader. They all look the same, sound the same, but from what I've been told, they aren't the same. I pretend to pay attention with interest when he tells me about it, but I just can't get past the cylinders or belly pans. Once he starts talking parts I just smile, nod and say "thats nice, honey". It keeps him happy thinking I maybe understand a little bit of what he's yapping about. I don't, but it doesn't matter.

By the way... Interceptors are black. Different from the rest. But he's buying me one and I'm going to paint it pink. And I'm going to name is 'Ceptorlicious. All those Interceptor fans are going to be pissed.

This is an Interceptor. They look really good with puppies on them! (Thats my Chico!)

Need Thanksgiving T-shirts?

"I'm thankful that my children haven't sent me to a sanitarium yet" and "I'm thankful for this t-shirt".

Getting into the Thanksgiving spirit....

Find them here.

Put out the cigarettes

Today Minnesota starts the statewide smoking ban. Yippee. That is sarcasm, by the way. I don't like smoking bans. True, I'm a smoker, but I am a smoker who can handle not smoking if I can't, thats not the issue. I don't eat out much and I don't go to bars, so this isn't effecting me at all. What I don't like is the fact that this happened. When did we become a country where the government can force every business owner in the state to NOT do something that is legal. If smoking was illegal it would be a whole different story, but it's legal to smoke a cigarette. Why not just leave it up to each individual business owner? Non-smokers - and smokers who choose - would find those establishments and go there. Advertise yourself as being a non-smoking establishment. They will come.
I noticed last week that our local bowling alley is now advertising being non-smoking. I'm sure the non-smokers love seeing that in the ad - but it's wasted space, isn't it? It's a law now, dummy. Use that space to advertise 1/2 off bowling or something.
It's just a rights thing - I don't like rights taken away. I hate bannings. Ban this, ban that. It's not really American in my book. I find it funny that they will ban cigarettes, something legal, but they are still trying to figure out a way for illegal immigrants to stay in the country. Sort of backasswards, isn't it?
I guess I just wonder what is next. No cell phones in shopping malls? Sounds silly, doesn't it? Well, they irritate me. I can't stand it when someone, who is obviously by themselves, is standing next to me and suddenly starts talking. You would assume they were talking to me, but noooo, they are talking to an invisible person that only they can see. Irritating.
Ok, bring up the health issue. Well, it could be unhealthy. That person is driving me mentally insane and that is now considered a health issue. Or... the people who are so into their phone call that they don't watch where they are going - health issue to me if they run into me and I break a leg or something. It's a danger to me. So ban them.
I can't stand drunk people either and that is why I don't go to bars. Maybe they should ban alcohol so I can start going into bars again. Health issue? Of course it is! Don't make me explain that one....
I'm now going to go out into my garage to have a cigarette. At least I can do that until they tell me there's no smoking allowed in my own garage.