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.