He Gets it from his Father
It's why is it Wednesday and I have a huge one to tell that happened a little less than a week ago. Last Thursday, little Fredo was waiting in line to go out to recess, and the teacher warned the students none could leave until all in line were quiet. Well that Thursday the kids decided they wanted to be noisy and noisy they were. Fredo has a tendency driven by Autism to say whatever pops into his head at any given time, whether he has thought about it or not. This isn't always a bad thing because it can lead to a spontaneous show of affection, like when he blurts out that he loves me. But that being said it can also be used for evil.
While in line, focused solely on the experience of recess; they were just nearly outside the door, and growing ever impatient waiting for his classmates to quiet down, he blurted, well, screamed (possibly bellowed) the unthinkable, "Shut up you Fucking Idiots!!!!"
The Principal called that afternoon, and my first instinct was to laugh, because I can honestly say having been on that playground every kid has heard the F-Bomb being dropped before--and they didn't have to hear it from my kid. My mind raced back in time listening to a much younger Piss-boy going on about how "all the class has to do is be quiet in line and they'd get to play but could they....ooooh NOOOOOO." I'm confident that very sequence of words his younger sibling uttered at school last week, ran through his mind a thousand times. However, young Piss-boy's edit was firmly in place and he wouldn't have dared or maybe risked getting into that kind of trouble and besmirch his "permanent record."
The Principal gave Fredo five options, and he chose to apologize to the class on his own, which for him is a huge thing and I was actually proud of him for that. However it did shed light on the issue that his echolasia wasn't limited to Spongbob cartoons but also included all the frequently heard words we used. Not good because if swearing or cussing were an Olympic event, we'd be gold medalists.
I decided there and then to implement a swear jar, and charged a dollar an infraction. I emptied the laundry tip jar, and cashed in those coins, changed the label, and started charging.
Since then, I've put nothing into the jar but Rainbird hasn't been so lucky, he's put well over 20 bucks so far and even offered to get a note from a doctor to explain his apparent Turrets Syndrome. I explained that would be fine as long as he goes to HIS doctor and not just get a note from any doctor he works with. Fredo understands that since he places no real value on money, he must perform chores, which has only happened twice. Myself, I find myself surprised that I haven't contributed, and believe there are enough people here to remind me if I slipped. My self edit, has always been fairly decent when at places with children and normally restricted to my home, and the pages of this blog. I can only hope that Rainbird does learn to edit himself and this issue for Fredo will go away.
I can only hope but still it begs to ask, why is it that our children pick up on the very habits we often don't want them to. Sometimes these habits are small things but sometimes it's much bigger, like our bad words, our cynical attitudes toward our fellow man or even our good habits blown wildly out of proportion. What is it about "do what I say and not as I do." that makes it so hard to follow?
Since I'm on a Blogging Roll of Sorts
I've been posting fairly regularly lately, which is weird for me but I'm willing to continue as long as I have things to blog about. It's kind of like therapy or something, but anyway I was debating if I should even bother with this post and then I read this post by Abby and realized I needed to write about this. If no other reason to remind myself I'm not alone in this.
Now I just need to tear a page from Judy's blog, and start getting serious about losing weight.
Welcome Back
In honor of Bumble's return...
© 2008 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved
Showing posts with label bumble blog. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bumble blog. Show all posts
Wednesday, October 15, 2008
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
Of Chickens and Eggs
Are Diamonds Really a Girl's Best Friend?
Or is a girls best friend the person that gives the diamonds? Diamonds are nice, especially when they arrive with a promise....awwwwwwww. My friend Bumble popped the question to his matchdotcom girl, and she said yes. Here's a snap of the ring he emailed me with.
Oh Bumble you done good.
Normally I'm ever the cynic when it comes to engagements but not this time. I'm thrilled for them both and hope they have a wonderful, long healthy life together. And Bumble...Welcome back to the wonderful world of blogging!
You can Take the Girl Out of California
I've said it before but it bears repeating, I'm a city girl living in the sticks. And I'm not going to suggest that California didn't have it's share of rural areas, because it did. I just didn't live there. I lived and grew up close to San Francisco. I'm probably one of the few people that could relate to the movie Colma the Musical on a personal level. I did however have the benefit of growing up in an Italian neighborhood, and they raised chickens, rabbits and other small creatures the law at the time allowed. All which were painstakingly, but lovingly prepared in the stove located in garage, because no self respecting Italian woman would risk dirtying the oven in the kitchen. People might see that! The kitchen was for show, like the living room, except it wasn't hermetrically sealed in plastic.
Now I was a kid then, and paid little attention because my parents bought their chicken, eggs and other items from the grocery store. As I got older the laws changed and the chickens, rabbits and other small creatures disappeared from the neighborhood. However I digress.
Yesterday, I went to our local market to pick up a few things. The usual, milk, eggs, rice....things on sale. I came home to find our local "egg lady" standing in my driveway. She proclaimed the hens were laying and she had too many. "Damn" I muttered under my breath, and quickly explained that I already bought eggs. Undetterred she started pulling my bags out of the back of the van and carried them to the front door as though running a sprint. Silently I cursed myself since now I'd have to invite her in, as I made my way to the door.
Naturally she followed me into the house, sitting the bags ontop of the kitchen table, then she started pulling things out, putting them away. My head then was ready to explode because I HATE that with a passion. I know, she was just being helpful, but it just grated on my nerves. Then she took out a dish from the cabinet (after opening and closing several) and started putting the eggs I just bought inside it and left it on the counter.
All the while she never stopped chatting about how they were getting a new goat, and about the chickens, most of which I tuned out. I reached for the eggs and put them into the fridge (they wouldn't fit on any shelves but I figured I'd deal with that later when I heard her ask in an incredulous tone, "whatever are you doing that for?" "Ummm," I stammered, "I always put eggs in the refrigerator."
"Why?" she asked in the same tone, "they don't come out of the chicken's butt cold." I changed the subject and having put all the groceries away, she asked about the eggs but I politely refused. She left, saying she'd try the people down the street. After she departed and I breathed a sigh of relief I briefly pondered the subject of eggs and chickens. Not about which came first but about other perplexing notions. Like do eggs really come out of a chickens butt? Or do they pop out somewhere else, I know nothing about chicken anatomy for all I know they could come out their mouths, but if Foghorn Leghorn cartoons are right, they sit on the eggs. I would assume they come out that way.
But like women, isn't there another hole? Thanks to Google, I now know in fact there is only one exit area on a chicken. I'll probably never think of chickens the same way again.
The second question that came to mind, which is much more important, must they be refrigerated? That's a little more difficult to answer half the websites say yes, the other half say no, there's lots of anecdotal evidence saying they don't but I'm not so sure that applies to eggs you buy at the store.
© 2008 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved
Or is a girls best friend the person that gives the diamonds? Diamonds are nice, especially when they arrive with a promise....awwwwwwww. My friend Bumble popped the question to his matchdotcom girl, and she said yes. Here's a snap of the ring he emailed me with. Oh Bumble you done good.
Normally I'm ever the cynic when it comes to engagements but not this time. I'm thrilled for them both and hope they have a wonderful, long healthy life together. And Bumble...Welcome back to the wonderful world of blogging!
You can Take the Girl Out of California
I've said it before but it bears repeating, I'm a city girl living in the sticks. And I'm not going to suggest that California didn't have it's share of rural areas, because it did. I just didn't live there. I lived and grew up close to San Francisco. I'm probably one of the few people that could relate to the movie Colma the Musical on a personal level. I did however have the benefit of growing up in an Italian neighborhood, and they raised chickens, rabbits and other small creatures the law at the time allowed. All which were painstakingly, but lovingly prepared in the stove located in garage, because no self respecting Italian woman would risk dirtying the oven in the kitchen. People might see that! The kitchen was for show, like the living room, except it wasn't hermetrically sealed in plastic.
Now I was a kid then, and paid little attention because my parents bought their chicken, eggs and other items from the grocery store. As I got older the laws changed and the chickens, rabbits and other small creatures disappeared from the neighborhood. However I digress.
Yesterday, I went to our local market to pick up a few things. The usual, milk, eggs, rice....things on sale. I came home to find our local "egg lady" standing in my driveway. She proclaimed the hens were laying and she had too many. "Damn" I muttered under my breath, and quickly explained that I already bought eggs. Undetterred she started pulling my bags out of the back of the van and carried them to the front door as though running a sprint. Silently I cursed myself since now I'd have to invite her in, as I made my way to the door.
Naturally she followed me into the house, sitting the bags ontop of the kitchen table, then she started pulling things out, putting them away. My head then was ready to explode because I HATE that with a passion. I know, she was just being helpful, but it just grated on my nerves. Then she took out a dish from the cabinet (after opening and closing several) and started putting the eggs I just bought inside it and left it on the counter.
All the while she never stopped chatting about how they were getting a new goat, and about the chickens, most of which I tuned out. I reached for the eggs and put them into the fridge (they wouldn't fit on any shelves but I figured I'd deal with that later when I heard her ask in an incredulous tone, "whatever are you doing that for?" "Ummm," I stammered, "I always put eggs in the refrigerator."
For craps sake woman, my mother put her eggs in the refrigerator, as did her mother before her, before that the freaking fridge hadn't been invented yet!
"Why?" she asked in the same tone, "they don't come out of the chicken's butt cold." I changed the subject and having put all the groceries away, she asked about the eggs but I politely refused. She left, saying she'd try the people down the street. After she departed and I breathed a sigh of relief I briefly pondered the subject of eggs and chickens. Not about which came first but about other perplexing notions. Like do eggs really come out of a chickens butt? Or do they pop out somewhere else, I know nothing about chicken anatomy for all I know they could come out their mouths, but if Foghorn Leghorn cartoons are right, they sit on the eggs. I would assume they come out that way.
But like women, isn't there another hole? Thanks to Google, I now know in fact there is only one exit area on a chicken. I'll probably never think of chickens the same way again.The second question that came to mind, which is much more important, must they be refrigerated? That's a little more difficult to answer half the websites say yes, the other half say no, there's lots of anecdotal evidence saying they don't but I'm not so sure that applies to eggs you buy at the store.
© 2008 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved
Monday, October 13, 2008
The Happiest Place On Earth
Dateline: Somewhere in the Pacific Northwest
The boy formally known as Piss-boy needed shoes for school. I promised him a few weeks ago that we would go and get shoes but it wasn't high on his priority list so he didn't mention it again. On Friday, I knew the man formally known as Rainbird, said to me that he had Friday off and was taking his parents to a Indian Gaming place they love to visit. I glanced at my calendar and ascertained that the children were also off from school.
I made the decision while he was out with his folks, we'd do a little something to help the economy.
When the Going Gets Tough; The Tough Goes to Tarjay
We walked through the doors of our Newly remodeled Tarjay a feeling of warmth surrounded me, truly Target, is Disneyland for moms, except with better prices and shorter lines. We made our way to the shoe area in the back of the store, and started looking for tennis type shoes for Piss-boy. I turned around and saw a whole row of snow boots, for kids going to adults...and every possible size in between. I immediately set out finding snow boots for the child formally known as Fredo and it only took me a few minutes to find a pair that fit him.
Then I thought to myself, I need snow boots too, so I started looking over the women's selections and there they were.
Everything Old is New Again
On the shelf, beside the faux fur lined snow shoes was a gray snow boot with a pink lining that caught my eye. My mind drifted back to a time when my hair was bigger and my rear was smaller. It reminded me of high school and my best friend's 16th birthday when we both decided to wear pink mini skirts with pink and gray tops. Naturally pink with gray mocs completed the ensemble We looked so cute. I recall her cousin was upset because my friend didn't tell her about our clothing choices and felt left out.
Not at all deterred the whimsical thoughts of the past, I tried them on, they felt warm and toasty but a little bit big, but I decided that I could just steal a pair of Rainbird's extra thick socks to add further cushion. I snapped them up.
Yes the years have changed me, my hair isn't big anymore and my rear has grown considerably, but some things just never change.
Easy Like Sunday Morning
I really do enjoy the Autumn season, there is something about cool temps and crisp air, the colors and stores setting up their Christmas displays? Well, yeah, I went to our local home improvement center (read: Mega-chain) to look for a duster with a telescoping pole for my mother in law. There by the door where the fall and Halloween stuffs were formally located, was about 3 aisles of Christmas stuff. Those HUGE inflatable things that you put in front of your house, the super-sized sleighs with a waving Santa.
I did walk up and down the aisles looking at the various wares, when I saw a HUGE Frosty the Snowman...I'm a sucker for Frosty. It must be a "real" Frosty, not just any old snowman with a silk hat, scarf and button eyes. What's funny is that you know a real Frosty when you see him, because, well duh, he looks like Frosty.
Countdown to the Holidays
Some people do Spring cleaning, but I prefer Autumn cleaning. Over the next several weeks I'll start decluttering the house of all the junk we've accumulated since Spring. The goal is to make cleaning easier when the holiday's are in full force and I have no time for it. I will admit some rooms will be easier than others, but I'm sure it will be worth the effort. As long as everyone doens't start cluttering them back up again.
I've also started our Christmas shopping, though this year will be lighter, each kiddo getting a few things they really want rather than a hundred things they don't.
Congratulations
To my Bumble Buddy who just this past weekend got engaged to his matchdotcom girl!! Congrats to you both.
© 2008 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved
The boy formally known as Piss-boy needed shoes for school. I promised him a few weeks ago that we would go and get shoes but it wasn't high on his priority list so he didn't mention it again. On Friday, I knew the man formally known as Rainbird, said to me that he had Friday off and was taking his parents to a Indian Gaming place they love to visit. I glanced at my calendar and ascertained that the children were also off from school.
I made the decision while he was out with his folks, we'd do a little something to help the economy.
When the Going Gets Tough; The Tough Goes to Tarjay
We walked through the doors of our Newly remodeled Tarjay a feeling of warmth surrounded me, truly Target, is Disneyland for moms, except with better prices and shorter lines. We made our way to the shoe area in the back of the store, and started looking for tennis type shoes for Piss-boy. I turned around and saw a whole row of snow boots, for kids going to adults...and every possible size in between. I immediately set out finding snow boots for the child formally known as Fredo and it only took me a few minutes to find a pair that fit him.
Then I thought to myself, I need snow boots too, so I started looking over the women's selections and there they were.
Everything Old is New Again
On the shelf, beside the faux fur lined snow shoes was a gray snow boot with a pink lining that caught my eye. My mind drifted back to a time when my hair was bigger and my rear was smaller. It reminded me of high school and my best friend's 16th birthday when we both decided to wear pink mini skirts with pink and gray tops. Naturally pink with gray mocs completed the ensemble We looked so cute. I recall her cousin was upset because my friend didn't tell her about our clothing choices and felt left out.
Not at all deterred the whimsical thoughts of the past, I tried them on, they felt warm and toasty but a little bit big, but I decided that I could just steal a pair of Rainbird's extra thick socks to add further cushion. I snapped them up.
Yes the years have changed me, my hair isn't big anymore and my rear has grown considerably, but some things just never change.
Easy Like Sunday Morning
I really do enjoy the Autumn season, there is something about cool temps and crisp air, the colors and stores setting up their Christmas displays? Well, yeah, I went to our local home improvement center (read: Mega-chain) to look for a duster with a telescoping pole for my mother in law. There by the door where the fall and Halloween stuffs were formally located, was about 3 aisles of Christmas stuff. Those HUGE inflatable things that you put in front of your house, the super-sized sleighs with a waving Santa.
I did walk up and down the aisles looking at the various wares, when I saw a HUGE Frosty the Snowman...I'm a sucker for Frosty. It must be a "real" Frosty, not just any old snowman with a silk hat, scarf and button eyes. What's funny is that you know a real Frosty when you see him, because, well duh, he looks like Frosty.
Countdown to the Holidays
Some people do Spring cleaning, but I prefer Autumn cleaning. Over the next several weeks I'll start decluttering the house of all the junk we've accumulated since Spring. The goal is to make cleaning easier when the holiday's are in full force and I have no time for it. I will admit some rooms will be easier than others, but I'm sure it will be worth the effort. As long as everyone doens't start cluttering them back up again.
I've also started our Christmas shopping, though this year will be lighter, each kiddo getting a few things they really want rather than a hundred things they don't.
Congratulations
To my Bumble Buddy who just this past weekend got engaged to his matchdotcom girl!! Congrats to you both.
© 2008 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved
Wednesday, July 11, 2007
Worthless Observations by a Ranting Fool
Whats in a Name?
Yes that would be me and I'm saying goodbye to Lady Bird Johnson who died Wednesday at the age of 94. Now out of all the first ladies, she had without a doubt the most interesting name. Lady Bird. Her real name was Claudia Alta Taylor not nearly as interesting as the nickname given to her by her nanny as a child who said she was as pretty as a ladybird. The name obviously stuck because I never knew her to be anything else but Lady Bird. Johnson as some might recall was the unfortunate fool to be vice-president when JFK was assassinated in 1963. He finished that term and served another full term as president. He was also known for escalating the Viet Nam war…Oops I mean police action--but that's another issue entirely.
Here We Go Again
Special thanks to Bumble for bringing this to my attention. I blogged about this case before which you can read here.
Georgia Prosecutor released the sex tape that put the 17 year old behind bars. Just to recap, he's serving a mandatory 10 year sentence for child molestation. He was 17 and the girl in question was 15. That's just two years apart in age. I'm really confused on this, was he convicted because he had oral sex or made the sex tape? Why is this kid still in prison?
The sex tape helped convict him, but can we really blame kids for doing what everyone else in Hollywood has done since Pam Anderson and Tommy Lee? Kids have been copying what other stars have done since my dad was a teen and got an Elvis haircut, or my grandmother fainted straight away when Frank Sinatra walked passed her. Okay someone at the party recorded him, but are we forgetting the big issue? He's in prison! He'll have to register as a sex offender for the rest of his life for doing something that teens do! Georgia has changed the law because of this kid!
Now everyone is upset that the video was released and saying it's child porn or something. Who cares???? Some fear support for the kid will diminish. Are we living in such a politically correct society where this kind of tripe matters a whit when put against plain old right and wrong? Kids will have sex.
The issue is the states attorney doesn't want this kid out of prison because he's afraid 1300 other molesters will also be released. HUH? You have 1300 kids in Georgia prisons, wrongfully convicted of molestation, who were just having teen sex????? That's about the only group that this would apply to.
© 2007 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved
Saturday, February 10, 2007
They Should be Ashamed
I'm so angry I'm seeing red over this. Shamelessly lifted from Bumble's blog because I'm too fucking livid to write something about it on my own. Bumble's Bog
Please take the time to review the link and subsequent links and scream at the top your lungs to all government officials, "I'm mad as hell and not going to take it anymore!"
© 2007 Whimsical Ranter
All Rights Reserved