Nothin' But Class!

Yeah, that's right. It's a classy blog, CofaCMG! Lots and lots of class. How do I know? Military Mom says so, that's how!

Here's what she has to say about my class: "My girl Heather, at Coalminer's Granddaughter because she is sincerely the sweetest person I have never met. And her? She knows how to class it up. What says 'Classy' better than 2 snot posts in one week? I ask you? Love it."

So, in light of snot posts making the joint classy, how much more classy can you get than a sigmoidoscopy?

Oh yes. I. Went. There.

All over it.

See, as if January 30th isn't already a horrible-enough day for me, I need to go off to my gastroenterologist and have a sigmoidoscopy.

What, pray-tell, is this sigmoidoscopy I speak of?

According to Wikipedia (which knows everything about everything - shuh) a sigmoidoscopy (gad - how many more times am I going to type it?) is a "minimally invasive medical examination of the large intestine from the rectum through the last part of the colon."

Well.

What that oh so fabulous definition doesn't tell you is that a sigmoidoscopy (keeping count?) is a "minimally physically invasive, highly emotionally invasive, medical examination of the large intestine from the rectum through the last part of the colon, during which you will be laying on your left side, experiencing your GI doc's Vaseline-covered finger shoved into your anus. THEN, you will watch a video monitor of the inside of your rear and get more intimate with your backside innards than you ever thought you would be. You will see blood vessels, 'roids, and the vestiges of poo your two enemas failed to clean out the night before. And? None of the cool AC/DC on your iPod can disguise the fact that a doctor and nurse are calmly looking at your backside innards while you're trying to make yourself as small as possible and not flinch every time he yanks that camera around."

Well, indeed.

According to my Mom, it's a "butt-oscopy."

Well, indeed-squared.

Did I just take that a step too far?

Yes, while going through said procedure, all I could think was, "Please, Earth, give me an early birthday present. Swallow me whole and leave no trace. That would be nice."

The good news is that all is well.

The bad news? I may not allow anyone within 10 feet of my flat butt for the next few weeks. Not even my favorite chair.

OK. Fine. Sean Connery can come near the butt, but NO ONE ELSE!

Thanks, Military Mom! You're a sweetie! So, I now get to pass this bit of class along to someone very deserving. I'm going to give this to my wonderful friend and sister-in-law, Vonda, and her family blog (The Livingston Family) about my bro Ian and their sweet little girl. See, they live in Germany and keep us all updated with their European goings-on. Her little one, Ella Rose, is such a beautiful little girl and graces every post of this blog. Vonda is a very classy lady and would never blog about snot or sigmoidoscopies (the count is 6, by the way). Thanks, Vonda, for giving us a bit of Ella Rose each and every day! Love and miss you!

Ten Years Ago Today

Ten years and two days ago, he called me on the phone to tell me he was very nervous about his heart catheterization. He was worried he might have a heart attack, that his heart wasn't strong enough to withstand this same test he'd had 17 years before. He said he was afraid he might die.

I heartlessly replied, "If you had died every time you said you would, I'd have dug a grave to China by now."

Ten years and one day ago, he entered the VA Hospital in Huntington, WV, for said heart catheterization. He was right. He suffered a moderate heart attack during the procedure. The staff gave him a blood thinner and said the next day he would go in for an angioplasty.

Ten years ago today, a brain tumor we didn't know about began to hemorrhage due to the blood thinner. His body temperature dropped. Half his body went numb. He called his wife of 28 years to tell her. He was wheeled into the St. Mary's OR to stop the brain tumor bleed, but his heart wasn't strong enough to beat through anesthesia. He slipped away at about 7:00 PM.

Ten years ago today, I received a call from my mom telling me the situation. Ty-man and I booked an emergency flight to Charleston, then a rental car to Huntington.

Ten years ago today, I rushed into St. Mary's at 7:30 PM, found the OR waiting area, saw my mother, Sarah, and Vicki, all crying, all huddled together, with a nun offering comforting words.

Ten years ago today, I stood over my father's body, dead for 45 minutes, a shell that had so recently held the life spark, I stood and stared at the dried blood on his nose and listened to the nun offer a prayer.

Ten years ago today, I silently apologized for being such a cold, heartless daughter, wishing I had comforted him and told him I loved him. Ten years ago today, I wished for five more minutes with that life spark.

Ten years ago today, Kelley stood in my mother's kitchen, washing dishes, telling me to eat, that to keep my strength during this time was most important. Over the next few days, I went through the motions of eating, sleeping, bathing, and caring.

Ten years ago today, my father died and I didn't get to say good-bye.

I miss you so much Dad and hope you look down everyday on these three beautiful grandchildren of yours. The ache has never subsided. The pain is still there. Thanks for coming to me, in a dream that first year, to dance with me and tell me you are "alright." The dream-talks we've had since then have helped, I just wish they were more frequent.

I'm sorry I made light of your fears and I'm sorry I wasn't there with you or for you.

I love you and wish you were here.

Just Wondering...*

* Dear blog-verse. It's a bitchy kind of day. I apologize. If you're not in the mood for bitchiness, you want to continue on your happy Tuesday path, please go elsewhere. This is something I need to get off my chest. Thanks for tolerating!

OK, my mom moved to Georgia back in July, 2005 and my dad died 10 years ago this month. During the 2004 Christmas holiday Mom revealed she was ready to make the move south and when we found out one month later that I was pregnant, she had an even better reason. Now that she's here, she's become active in the Red Hat Society and gained many new, lasting friendships.

See, this is what I'm wondering.

We both have friends and family back in West Virginia. Friends and family with whom we keep in touch, religiously, but who don't return the favor. We call, they don't. We write, they don't. We've traveled north for visits, they haven't made the trek south. I have made sure to tell these family and friends that my door is always open and that the guest bed is always made. Seriously. I keep the guest room clean and ready at all hours of the day and night. I would LOVE to have West Virginia friends and family visit.

To date, one friend and one cousin visited over eight years ago (both on business), one uncle and aunt have stopped by twice on their way through Atlanta (once for a football game), and another friend and her mother stopped in for two hours on their way to the Peach Bowl. (Seems we're only worth it if there's work or football involved.)

Seriously, do I stink?

Sniffing armpits.

I mean, really. What is up? Friends of mom's have said repeatedly "We're coming! Turn down the sheets!" and....

... they never show.

Oh, but, we're expected to drive north eight hours.

A 500-mile drive I performed three times a year or more before kids and only once after kids because a 500-mile drive, with twins, one who gets violently car sick 15 minutes away from home and sobs and fights against her car seat the rest of the time, becomes a 700 to 800 mile, 12-hour drive.

I. Shit. You. Not.

Oh! But we want to see the kids! Bring them to the family reunion! Bring them up for the holidays!

Sure! You going to fly down here and help us on the drive up? You going to put us up in your house? And assist in the drive back? No? Because the one, one-week trip, I made in 2006 wore me out so much that I needed a vacation AFTER my vacation.

Well, guess what. I'm done asking.

It's much easier for you to come here, stay here for free at our house, take in all Atlanta has to offer, and visit with the kids in their own environment, where they're most happy, and not have to worry about my kids trashing your non-kid-proofed home.

But, I guess that's just too difficult for our high-fallootin' West Virginie kin to manage.

Whatever.

After 14 years, I've given up. I'm no longer going to throw out the invites any more. I'm finished.

For any of you West Virginia friends and family who may be reading this, you all know where the heck I live. Otherwise, I'll see you when the kids are older and better travelers. I'm tired of "begging" and asking for your presence. These are precious kids and you are all missing out. I guess the lack of contact from your end, the lack of interest, means that you don't care and never did. I'm taking this to mean that you have no interest in me or my family. I think it's pretty sad that our friends who live in GERMANY have been here to visit more times than any of you.

If that's the case, then I guess we're better off without you. This was the last invitation.

Good Lord...

Have you learned nothing? What's today's date? That's right, it's the 28th. And what happens on the 28th of every month? I take over Burt Reynolds' Mustache. I mean, hello? This is my third post over there! Haven't you figured it out, yet? Just go. Seriously. You're wearing. Me. Out.

Click on Burt. Now. You'll be glad you did.

First-Ever Video Log!

Yes, people, it's my first-ever video log. Well, not really.

I guess an official video log (or vlog for you fellow blogging nerds) would include me talking directly to the camera and to you, dear reader, about some ridiculously stupid topic such as "Kirk vs. Sisko: Who's the Better Star Trek Captain?" or "Who Funded the Rebel Base on Hoth?" (Not to say that those topics won't be covered in the near future - just because they're lame doesn't mean I'm not geek enough to talk about them!)

No, this is a video of me pretending to sneeze and J-man laughing hysterically. Who knew kids could be so easily entertained? It's a full minute of laughs, thrills, and my emerging double chin. Plus? You can hear the twins "sneeze" and laugh in the background. Enjoy!



Click here for a direct link to said video if you're having trouble viewing it.

All Manners of Snot

OK, OK, I can't help myself! I have dealt with nothing but SNOT for the past four days and it's kind of running my life! When you see snot flowing (yes, flowing) from three noses, CONSTANTLY all you want to do is run screaming from the house into the nearest bottle of decongestant, throw yourself in, and swim like mad make up new words for the various stages of snot.

Yes, you read me right. Make up new words for the various stages of snot.

Kind of like the way the Eskimos/Inuit/PC proper tribal name for the natives who live in the great white north have hundreds of words for the different kinds of snow.

Check it out. You've got the basics.

Snot - The runny, mucous-y stuff, in various colors, running in liquid form, out of your child's nose.
Booger - Dried snot found caked inside and around the outside of the nose.

Here are my new terms.

Snooger - Not quite dried enough to be a booger, but pretty elastic and sticky with some snot-like properties.
Snubble - Snot bubbles. You know how the nostril can get coated in snot and when the child exhales through the nose, it forms a bubble. Therefore, snubble.
Snotscicle - The long line of snot hanging from your child's nose/upper lip after a rather violent sneeze.
Side of slime - The thin layer of snot on your child's food from a previous sneeze or from contact with the upper lip, covered in snot, upon insertion of the food into the mouth.
Finger snot - Snot located along the length of the index finger of the dominant hand. This is due to swiping snot before Mom can make it with a wipe.
Snot² (a.k.a. Snot Squared) - An overproduction of snot due to child crying because they are unhappy having their noses wiped. Therefore - cold snot + crying snot = snot².

Feel free to come up with more terms and let me know!

Time Machine

OK, yesterday I created a misunderstanding. I'm sorry 'bout that. Yesterday was not my birthday. According to my mom, my due date was January 31st. But, I was born six days later, on February 6th. Again, thanks for all the well-wishes. And, if you've already wished me a happy birthday, there's no need to repeat on the 6th. Thanks to all of you! So many wonderful well-wishes - so unexpected and welcome!

Now, I also jokingly mentioned wanting Prof. Hawking to deliver a time machine to me as a present. Something I could use to get more hobby work done. I actually had a discussion with my mother about time machines not too long ago and I determined what I would do if I actually had one.

See, my father was the youngest of three and growing up in the coal fields of West Virginia, they didn't have much - life was rough. Grandfather Frank was paid in scrip (money printed by the Kingston Pocahontas Coal Company and good only at the company's general store) and all the company store merchandise was ridiculously over-priced. Not only was the store owned by the Kingston Pocahontas Coal Company, but also the houses in which the miners and their families lived. The miners were also paid in scrip which was non-exchangeable for American currency, so these poor miners were trapped - so to speak - by their employers. This was true at any coal mine, in any coal town, throughout Appalachia, during this time. Any Christmas gifts my father and uncles received were purchased at the company store and were very meager.

My father told me about one Christmas in particular when he and his two older brothers each received one tinker toy and one orange. By that evening, Dad's toy was broken.

I remember when Dad first told me that story, I was heart-broken for him. I decided right then and there that if I could go back in time, I would go back to that Christmas day in the late 1930s and take Christmas toys to my dad, Uncle Romie, and Uncle Curtis.

That's what I would do with my time machine. What would you do with yours?

Too Much!

GAH!

Why do I do this to myself?

I received a ton of books for Christmas and want to read them all, including four books by favorite authors that will be coming out throughout the year...

So, OK, nobody gave me the Wonder Woman comics. I bought those for myself. Bite me!

Then there's my cross-stitch projects. The current one is a primitive-art-looking bunny for my aunt in Virginia (Aunt Sue, if you're reading this, act surprised!)...

She likes bunnies. What can I say?

Then, of course, I'm six months behind in the scrapbooking of pictures. I'm caught up to July, 2007. Past that, it's spread out on my desk...

Twins' 2nd birthday, Halloween, Christmas, general summer and fall pics, Thanksgiving....

And, of course, there's my poor, neglected, hammered dulcimer. A dulcimer I taught myself how to play. A dulcimer I played two years running at the Vandalia Gathering in WV, a dulcimer played at Ian's and Vonda's wedding, a dulcimer I want to play again so that JB and his new 5-string banjo can jam with me...

Any smart-ass Deliverance comments from the peanut gallery will be summarily smacked!

And lest we forget, I have these three wonderful kids to take care of and love...

Seriously, Bubba made that face on his own (last pic). No, Kristi! I'm not teaching him bad habits!

And there's the Ty-man who needs love and attention and SEX (more than once in a blue moon)!

Poor, long-suffering, Ty-man. Hey, wait, I need some of that drink you're having!

Let's not forget about those precious hours of sleep we all know, love and desperately need...

(No, that's not me. I don't look that pretty when I sleep. There's a lot more drool and the mouth is open and... oh, never mind.)

And finally, if I could get said sleep, I'd like to get back to doing some of this...

(OK! Enough already! I know I could never be Steve Prefontaine! First, I don't have a penis Thank God and B - no matter how many 3-milers I slog through, I could never be this dedicated. Pffthpffth!)

Sheesh. Too friggin' much! I need more time for my birthday! That's what I want...

I want Professor Stephen Hawking to fly in to Georgia, from England, on his magic wheelchair, and say in his cute, computer-generated voice...

Heather, I have built for you a time machine. Use it wisely.

Wisely meaning, Use it to finish all your craft projects, tune your dulcimer, play with your children, fornicate with your husband, and go running!

Yeah, Happy Birthday to Me!

I always knew Prof. Hawking liked me...

It's the Most Snotty Time of the Year!

Typically, I'm a fall/winter kind of gal. The hot, humid, oppressive Georgia summers are not my cup of coffee and I'd rather be cold and curled up in a blanket with a good book than be sticky, nasty, and hot, trying to cool off with ineffective AC and ice water.

Well, I may be coming around.

All three kids have colds.

Yes, you read it right.

Three noses = six nostrils = 3,000 gallons of snot. There is snot everywhere.

Where is everywhere?

1. Snot just under their noses on their upper lips.
2. Snot spread across their cheeks due to the hand swipe.
3. Snot on the hands mentioned above.
4. Snot on the sleeves of their shirts.
5. Snot on the sleeves of my shirts.
6. Snot on my shoulders (from carrying J-man).
7. Snot on the floor (J-man is now crawling).
8. Snot on their toys.
9. Snot on their books.
10. Snot on their food (yes, the snot is being consumed as a fifth food group).

This stuff is everywhere. The bulb syringe is getting a work-out and so are my hands because while I'm using said bulb syringe to suck all the snot out of their heads, I'm having to fight them - hold them down, grab their hands, and hold their heads in position so that I can suck out as much snot as possible. This helps for all of, oh, two minutes, because then the body realizes, "OH! Snot shortage! Ramp up production!" In the time it takes to rinse out the bulb syringe, wipe it off, and throw away the snot rags, their six nostrils are running again.

Le sigh.

You would think environmentalists could come up with a snot energy solution. Seriously. We can run our houses off solar power. Run our cars on ethanol. Cook our food with energy produced from methane (read: cow poo). You would think we could produce energy from snot.

Think about it. Colds would actually be a good thing. Hook your kids up to some kind of apparatus. Anytime they sniff, the action of the sniff not only gives off a few amps/watts/volts of electricity, but snot is collected and in some type of fusion reactor, the snot atoms are whirled around, slammed into one another, and a cheap energy alternative is created.

Le sigh deux.

I can't believe I'm about to say this.... but bring on summer!

I'm Just Sayin'...

OK, OK, I know. Laura Lynn is the proprietary brand name for Ingles grocery stores (aka their generic brand). And I know that Laura Lynn is the name of the daughter of the founder of said grocery store. And I know that this box once contained gallon jugs (heh, I said "jugs") of Laura Lynn homogenized milk.

BUT...

According to that label? That L. Lynn is a lesbian.

That's all I'm sayin'...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Oh, and? If you missed Pointless Drivel's Big Honking Duet Show last night, you can click here and listen to an archived copy. We had a great time wearing out Fab's pipes!

Heather-Heads

... as opposed to Dead-Heads. As in, the people who followed the Grateful Dead all over the US on their never-ending tour? Sheesh, nobody gets my humor...

See, picked this up off Avitable's site. Pretty fun. Just follow these simple directions to come up with your own imaginary band's first album cover and title.

1. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random
The first article title is the name of your band.

2. http://www.quotationspage.com/random.php3
The last four words of the very last quote is the title of your album.

3. http://www.flickr.com/explore/interesting/7days/
The third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.

Now take your pic, add the band name and title to it, then post it.
Now anyone can be a rock star.

Here's mine:

And this goes along beautifully with what's going on tonight. Tonight (as in Sunday, January 20th) is Pointless Drivel live on Blog Talk Radio and tonight is Fab's Big Honking Special Duet Show! There are 12 of us hapless lady-blogger participants, singing duets with Fab himself. My song? Yeah, it's Meat Loaf's Paradise By The Dashboard Light, of course. Shuh. Like I'd sing duet to anything else with anyone else. Unless it happened to be Mr. Loaf himself. Then, I'd be on stage, with my wet, freshly pee'd-in pants, salivating while attempting to sing this song. So, stop by, check it out, and enjoy this special 90-minute show, starting at 6:30PM, EST, right here! Woo hoo!

Cold - Possible Snow - Saturday Meme

OK, before I get to this meme, passed on to me from Military Mom, let me say this.

Cloverfield.
Kicked.
Serious.
Ass.

Let's just say you could call it Cloverfield - The 9/11 Blair Witch Godzilla Starship Troopers Project. I highly recommend seeing it. Get baby sitters. Get pet sitters. Get out there. And, if you don't manage to see it in the theater, give me a call when the DVD comes out. We've got a home theater in our basement and I'll let you come over and watch it. Seriously. It's so good that I'll open up my home to strangers.

OK. On to the meme. I have to link to five of my old posts according to the given categories. Since I've only been blogging since August, this shouldn't be too difficult.

Family - This was one of my first posts and I had something up-beat and happy to say about being a mother. Plus, I was playing with Mac's Photo Booth software.

Friends - This is a relatively recent post and pays tribute to friend and biatch, Teri.

Me - This is an early post about my home state of West "By God!" Virginia. I'm proud of my Mountaineer/Hillbilly birthright and advertise it all the time.

A Post I Love - OK, friends Vonda and Kristi probably shook their heads when reading one of my kid book reviews. But, sometimes I'm reading these kids' books and the coffee hasn't kicked in, and I'm thinking WTF is this book about, anyway? Yeah, this was one of those days.

Anything I Choose - Yeah, this post basically sums up the geek in me. Fear it!

Hope you all enjoy the walk down memory lane. And go see Cloverfield for Chrissakes!

1.18.08

This is what it's all about today. All day I will be thinking of nothing but going to see this movie. Well, that and sleep.

See, J-man kept me and the Ty-man up aaaaalllll night. Three hours of sleep does not a happy Heather make. I thought for sure the boy had an ear infection. Nope! Doctor said he's probably getting ready to make a developmental leap. All I can say is that he better be doing calculus by the close of the weekend or I'll be disappointed.

Anyhoo, back to the movie. The kids will be crying, fussing, snarking, and I will be oblivious because I will stare off into space, thinking, "I'm going to see Cloverfield tonight. Oh, and I need sleep." Been waiting on pins and needles for this flick. Reserved Nana for kid duty back at Christmas. So, that being said, I have nothing for you but the wonderfulness that is this poster and the hope that this movie will not blow.

Snowfall

Silent snow,

still and cold.

Will you stick to the ground below?

Sweet child of mine,

eyes bright and wide.

Do you see what is outside?

"It's 'No! 'No!"

you loudly proclaim-

as large flakes land on your gloves.

Your hair, nose, shoulders,

even your tongue,

moistened by the white from above!

They revel in wonder,

twirling through flakes.

and laughing with glee,

as Mama takes a taste!

Facebook Issues

OK, so up until a few days ago, I had a Facebook account/profile. When I began writing for Burt Reynolds' Mustache two months ago, I noticed it had a Facebook account. So, as a writer for said blog, I figured that I too should be on Facebook so that those who stumble across the 'Stache via Facebook could get to know one of the writers in the same way.

Then Calamity over at Ask And Ye Shall Receive was kind enough to mention, "Dude! You stupid bitch! Your name is all over this blog! People can find you! Freaks! Scary nutters! Run!"
Disclaimer - OK. Maybe she didn't say it like that. Maybe she was nicer about it. Still. I was freaked!

In the name of privacy (please, pronounce as if you're British - like Madonna snort), I removed my grandfather's last name from my profile, removed the link to my elementary school, and even backtracked one of the two sites that list my maiden name and removed all traces from there. I also made sure my Gmail account didn't show my name, just my blogger "alias." Whew!

Then, I realized, my Facebook account! I go on, attempt to change my display name in my profile, and it wouldn't let me. I couldn't be just Heather or Coal Miner's Granddaughter. I had to be Heather Ty-man'sLastName.

Mother. Puss. Bucket.

So, what could I do?

I deleted my Facebook account.
I know, Fab. I know. You're heartbroken. You couldn't function all weekend. I know it was that and not the third draft of your book. Wuss.

Sadly, I had just reconnected with a sorority sister I haven't seen in forever, a sister who found me through Facebook.

So, in the interest of privacy, acting like a total lunatic, and - of course - sticking it to The Man, help me come up with a Facebook name.

Heather Somebody. Heather Whatsherboobs. Heather InHiding.

Something.

Then, I'll come back.

Until then, I'll be up under my quilt, in a fetal position, watching Arnold Schwarzenegger in Eraser.

High School Part 2

So, OK, I finally made it to 12th grade, 1989-1990. Big hair scare music and big hair scare on top of my head. Ready?

Oh. My. Yes. Just take a few moments. Let it sink in. The bangs. The hair. All of it.

Frightening, wasn't it? Shudder.

My parents actually entertained buying stock in Aqua Net.

Here's another fun picture:

Directly quoting from the yearbook, A great place to eat lunch, according to Matt, is the "cheapest place, usually Taco Bell." Future plans for Keri include "College, marriage, kids, and lots of money!" Pat wishes to be remembered for his "sexy body" but admits "That's pushing it a little." Heather's future plans and goals include "a doctorate in physics and someday work for NASA as an astronaut."

Well, I'm two degrees short of a physics Ph.D. and I've been on a tour of the NASA facilities in Florida, but that's about it. Ah... teenage dreams!

Did I mention I was the drum major?

And that my best friend was Denise?


And that if I published this other picture of her, she will most likely put a hit on me, drive east, and take away my rhythm?


Whoops! Looks like you're just going to have to get yourself to Georgia, hon! I'm waitin'!

Senior year made up for the rotten-ness of the other two years but, I must admit, the last week of my senior year just about canceled out all the good. You see, this was Mark.

Mark was a great guy - a sweet someone who made me laugh constantly. During one of my worst days in 11th grade, he carried my books to his car and insisted he drive me home because I, "was in no condition to deal with the idiots on the bus" and he didn't want the kids on the bus to "see me in such a state." My knight in shining armor. He took his life four days before graduation and I still miss him to this day.

Thanks everybody for sharing this trip down memory lane! Tomorrow, it's back to business as usual.

High School Part 1

Yeah, OK.

I took the weekend off from blogging.

Shoot me.

See, there's this thing called sleep and another thing called going to see Sweeney Todd with your Johnny Depp-infatuated friend Teri and something else known as trash your office/craft room and re-arrange the furniture that you just re-arranged nine months ago 'cause you're never going to be happy with it!

So, there you go.

And, here you go, dear reader. I've decided to just cover my 10th and 11th grade pictures for you today. 12th grade needs its own post, where I will pay tribute to my best friend (with whom I just recently re-connected) and the silliness that was high school in general.

So, 10th grade painfully dawned with a loss of all my junior high friends. Why? I don't know. I'm still asking myself that same question 21 years later. If you know, shoot me a line. If you find out, let me know. Teenagers are such fickle little fu.... well, you know.


Yeah, as you can tell in the bottom right picture (moi), the cool short 9th grade hair had turned into an overgrown helmet. The 'rents were running a bit short of cash and so a new do was late in coming that year. Thus, the horrible helmet hair for school pictures. I'll never live this one down. Guy in the top row, next to last pic? Kevin, I'm sorry man for sitting behind you in English and constantly torturing you by flinging your sweatshirt hoodie over your head. If you like, I'll send you my physical addy so that you might come over and kick my rear. I'm ready, hon! I deserve it!

The other momentous thing to happen this year? I met my Ty-man at....

Wait for it.

Space Camp.

Seriously.

If you think I'm posting pictures of that here, you're crazy. The yearbook pictures are enough ridicule for one day.

OK, on to the 11th. By this time I had reconciled myself to the fact that those junior high friends were never coming back. I made new friends and never looked back. I was on the prom committee and had a wonderful time with all those people. Interestingly enough, when I look back on prom committee, we were all a bunch of 11th grade rejects planning the night of the year for a bunch of ungrateful seniors. Hee hee! That plus scoring drum major of the band (aaaawwwww yeah!) made the years much better.


So, there I am, first row, second picture. Hair still very scary (that whole bang thing) but I seemed to like it back then and that's all that matters!

Ain't No Middle School Here!

Middle school.

Yeah, whateva.

Middle school is just some lame-ass excuse for a mediocre educator to push through some crappy idea about grouping students this way rather than that way. That being junior high. Oh, junior high, that's such an outdated idea. Let's shove these 9th graders into the high school environment. mixing all these scrawny 14-year-olds in with legal voters and legal sex-crazed fiends, move the 12-year-old 6th graders in with grades 7 and 8 and call it a middle school! Genius! Get rid of the football/baseball/basketball teams 'cause, sheesh, who wants to mess with that when it comes to a bunch of young teenagers and their "fragile" skeletal structures. We want to ease our little flowers into a high school-type environment, not just senselessly slam them into it as a junior high would. God forbid we push our kids to do anything that makes them uncomfortable.

What the f.... wait. I'm trying to clean up here.

WTF? (See there? Abbreviation. Much better.)

I went to a God's-honest junior high school- grades 7 through 9. We had a full-contact football team. Full-on varsity basketball. Cheerleaders. Majorettes (yes, Fab, major-friggin'-ettes). Marching band (my bag). French club. Blah, blah, yadda, yadda. From the fall of 1984 to spring 1987, I attended the coolest junior high on the planet, just three short blocks from my house. Brisk walk, anyone?

Here, I present to you, the horror that is my 7th grade yearbook picture, top row, middle. Yeesh.

(Gad! Did I really wear those glasses?!?)
Sorry 'bout that. Anyone need to clean off their monitors from snorting a beverage through their nose, take 5. I'll still be here. Why didn't I smile? Braces, you fool! And how 'bout my Izod sweater? Chick in the third row, first picture? That's Jennifer. For three solid years, all through junior high, every Friday or Saturday night during the school year, we could be found at her house, crashed on her basement floor, watching TV, sprawled on bean bags. Ah, that was the life!

So, 8th grade dawned. I was now drum major for the marching band and, I thought, a bad-ass. SNORT!


Oh, yeah! There I am, right up there. Last row, second picture. Shaggy hair. Retainer. HORRIFYING!

Finally, 9th grade. Shorter hair, big chick on campus, all that and a bag of chips....


Third row, second picture. Man, that hair was THE BOMB.... then. Now? Not so much. Blond guy? Last row, last picture? That was Patrick. Damn, he was cute. HUGE crush. Wouldn't give me the time of day in junior high or high school. Not even as friends. Saw him three years after graduation and he gave me this gigantic "haven't seen my best bud in ages" hug. Poser.

So, there you go. Free entertainment all on your computer screen from the comfort of your home or office. Hee hee! See you tomorrow with high school pictures, baby! Beware, Denise! Your mug is going up!
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Oh, and? I'm turning over a new leaf. I'm going to succumb to proper blogging etiquette and respond to all of your comments with comments of my own rather than personal e-mails. Responding to each and every comment via e-mail was getting to be much for me. Still, though, feel free to shoot off e-mails to me. I'm here. Wrangling kids!

Quick Commercial Break

OK, we'll take a quick break from our trip on the "way-back" machine.

Just spent the evening with Wayne and found out about his Thanksgiving spent at the hospital having the evil MRSA infection cut out of his leg and how at first he was depressed but then he realized, Hey, I've got two platefuls of food, Lortab, and no bitching family members. This is an AWESOME Thanksgiving! Yeah. Some people have all the luck. Well, lucky that he had Lortabs and no bitching family. Not so lucky about the methi.... methicillin-resistant staph....crystal meth... oh, screw it. Not so lucky about the flesh-eating crud.

Anyhoo, since I was hanging with Wayne, getting a new do, and not scanning in yearbook pictures, I just have to tell you about my blog review over at Ask And Ye Shall Receive (Yes, Kristi, their blog addy includes the f-word. Just take a deeeeeeep breath and click on the link. You'll be OK. No lightning bolts - promise). I submitted my blog a month ago for review, clicked on the Send button, and held my breath. Yes, I've been holding my breath for over a month. Ty-man has been fretting over my rather blue hue.

Well, the lovely Calamity reviewed my humble corner and gave me this rating:

(Yes, Kristi, that f-word again. I promise! That's it for.... well, for a while!)

God bless you, Calamity! You made my 2008! I have taken your concerns into consideration and have contacted my template designer with changes. Thanks! If any of you would like to read her review, please click here.
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Oh, and? I'm yet again participating in The Great Quill Driving Competition with a short story submission. Get on over there, read the stories (each based on 18 words the lovely Cindra chooses at random), and vote! Can't tell you which one is mine - it's an anonymous competition! Enjoy!

Down Elementary Memory Lane

Congrats to Military Mom who guessed correctly! In the second Montessori picture, the girl's picture next to mine is that of a 4-year-old Jennifer Garner (as in the actress). Seriously!

OK. Enough of that. On to elementary school. The first three years, I attended an elementary school that no longer exists (just a church parking lot). The school didn't have yearbooks and my grades 1 through 3 pictures are buried somewhere amongst my mom's things in her apartment. After third grade, my parents transferred me to a different elementary - better teachers and atmosphere. So, I present to you, grades 4 through 6. Please, keep the snickering to a minimum:

4th Grade - Mrs. Spradling


Oh, yeah. Bottom row, smack in the middle. That's me. HORRIFYING! The chick next to me? Wendy. She eventually went to West Point. The kid on the second row, first picture, was Praveen. I stood up for him when some of the other boys picked on him and I gained my elementary school best friend. We lost touch in junior high (different schools) but he was the coolest kid.

Here we go. 5th Grade - Mrs. Garska


Check me out. Third row, middle. Nice little orphan Annie hair. Sheesh. MOM! Why did you let me do that?!?! My other elementary best friend was Megan. She's diagonally above me, to the right. She was so cool, she gave my mom a Tom Selleck poster.

And finally, 6th Grade - Mrs. Bonnet


Yeah. Bottom row, far left. Really, you can stop laughing now. Gad. Were we all so awkward?

OK, now that I've completely amused you all (and no, no famous people in these pictures - that I know of) take your guffawing elsewhere!

Idea! Idea!

So, I'm in the shower this morning (and I swear to Heaven and Earth that if any of you, besides Ty-man, pictures me nekid, I'll have to... well, I'll have to do something. Check with me later.) and I have an epiphany (not the holiday, but an idea). FINALLY! A blog posting idea.

It was almost like when you really, really, really, really, really, REEEEEAAALLLLY have to pee and you finally pee and your whole body just goes, "Aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhh."

It was that kind of idea-moment. My brain pee'd.

Why don't I, I thought, scan all my yearbook/school pictures and post about them and me? It would fill in some info people are missing, give everybody a few laughs, and take care of several days of blogging. Woo hoo! Genius!

So, here I am, presenting you with my two preschool years.

I attended Montessori Pre-school in Charleston, West Virginia beginning at age 3 (1975) and stayed for two years before starting first grade. Since this was a private school, my parents (who couldn't afford it) worked after hours as janitors for the church who sponsored the school. Now, that's dedication. I remember going to the church after-hours, playing with the Montessori learning tools while Mom and Dad vacuumed, mopped, and cleaned toilets.

Here's our school picture my first year:

That lady at the top? Mrs. Kawsek. She rocked and I still correspond with her on a regular basis. Joel was the cute blonde boy up there on the left (third row). SMMMMAAAARRRRRT kid. 800s on his math SATs. College-level calculus classes in 10th grade. Totally smoked my butt. Bottom right? That's Scott. I had SUCH a crush on him and my goal in life was to kiss him. I managed to do it one afternoon two years later. I was happy, he pee'd his pants. And that cute little girl in the yellow dress? Me.

Now, the second year:


Little boy at the top left? Can't remember his name but I always thought he looked like an elf. There's Joel there, in the center, just above the school information. Lower right, middle kid, was Brent. Ah, Brent. He was my second year crush. Also wanted to smooch him. Never succeeded. Until..... 1999. Ran into Brent, his older sister, and his parents at the Charleston airport that year. They were heading back home to Miami and I was leaving for Georgia. We re-connected (Brent's dad was the minister of a Lutheran church we frequented) and as we said our good-byes, I got my kiss. YES!

And that cute kid? Second row from the bottom at the end? Yep, that was me. OK, all together now....

AWWWWWWWWWWW!!!

Now, for those of you who already know the answer to this question (Teri, Ty-man, Toni, Michael, Reed, etc. - this includes you, John!) keep this to yourself. For the rest of you, I have a question regarding the second picture. Click on it. Look at the larger version. Examine it closely. Look at each kid and picture them as adults. See someone you recognize (besides me)? Let me know if you do!

See you tomorrow with my elementary school pictures. SCARY!

My Mind is the Sahara

So, I still got nothin'. The creative juices have been rather dry here at CofaCMG. Sleep has been elusive as of late and when I'm not sleeping I'm typically thinking of, well, sleep.

What's been going on over the weekend?

• Lunch with friends. Four adults, six kids. You do the math.
• Dinner and coffee with Super-Mom Kristi (faster than a speeding toddler, able to leap tall stacks of toys in a single bound, and still look as trim and fit as she did before birthing three kids, she's Super-Mom!).
• A trip to urgent care with Bubba for an ear infection. Two trips to urgent care, due to holidays and weekends, in five days. I think I'm going to get a job there.
• Lunch with Ty-man's brother and family. Quiet, soothing, filet mignon, gift exchange, all good.
• The taking down of Christmas decorations. Yes, it's January 6th and the decor is just now being removed. It's Epiphany. Not sure what I'm talking about? Look here.
• An attempt at a video log for CofaCMG - the video is cute (me and Ty-man debating Star Wars) but getting it here is difficult because Leopard fried iMovie. Le sigh.
• Watching The Nanny Diaries and realizing, yet again, another of my favorite books has been ruined by the Hollyweird machine.
  

Wow, I've turned into quite the Debbie Downer.

OK, here are two uppers for you (and me). Since today is Epiphany, I leave you with these two adorable Christmas photos of Bubba, Miss-Miss, and J-man. I hope to be back on my game tomorrow!

This is All I've Got

So, you think she went loco because Huckabee took the Iowa Caucuses? I mean, I can hear the exchange between Brit and the cops now.

Damn that Huckabee! He wasn't suppooooooosed to take the GOP win! (said with much whining)

It was supposed to be Mitt! Mitt Rooooomney, I tell you!

Waaaaaa!!!! Obama and Mitt! NOT Obama and Huckabeeeeeeeeeee! Mitt's rich! Huckabee's just a fat guy in a recovering fat guy's boooooodeeeee! Waaaaaaa!!!!!!

Well, OK. Maybe that's not how it went down. But, that's how I felt.

Not that I like Mitt. I just detest Huckabee more.

Dang. Slow day.

Yeah, as you can tell, I got nothin'.

By the way, is it just me or does Huckabee look a bit like Evita Peron in that picture?

Don't cry for me Des Moines, Iowa!

Caucus, Schmaucus

OK, yes, you guessed it. This is a politically-charged post. But, trust me. You'll snicker through most of it.

Politics are important to me. My Republican mother worked the polls in West Virginia during every election. My Democrat father read the papers and stayed informed. I vote in each and every election and I stay current on candidates and their views. I don't vote for a person because of their party affiliations or because Oprah tells me to. I vote based on how that candidate's ideas and political beliefs can better my life as a tax-paying American.

So, of course, I've got the news on, running in the background. Unless you've just crawled out of a hole, were born yesterday, or have time-traveled back to 2008, from an apocalyptic future, to save John Connor from Arnold Schwarzenegger (whew!), you should know that today is the Iowa caucus. Everyone is a-flutter. Who will win? Who will drop out? Who will the drop-outs endorse? Lions and tigers and bears, oh my!

So, I'm having my morning mug of joe, watching on-the-street interviews and I see/hear this:

Scene - Iowa bowling alley
Reporter: So, who are you voting for?
Woman: Hillary Clinton.
Reporter: Why?
Woman: I think it's time we had a woman in the White House.

Wait, wait. Back the bus up.

We're choosing our President based on candidates' sex organs?

Wha?

No, "Gee, I like her views on health care." or "Her ideas about fighting terrorism are swell." or even "I get warm and fuzzy when I read her policy regarding education."

Nothing.

This woman made her choice based on the fact that Hillary Clinton has a vagina rather than a penis.

Well. Damn.

If that's the case, let's just get rid of ALL the current candidates and replace them with porn stars. Because if this race is about genitalia, none of the current presidential candidates can measure up.

That we know of.....

Wow, did this post go pear-shaped or not?

Dialog, Part 2

Me: Is that Gods and Generals?

Ty-man: Yep.

Me: Who is that?

Ty-man: General Stonewall Jackson, played by Stephen Lang.

Me: You know? Those yak-fur beards just look too neat. If that was really Jackson, his beard would probably be really scraggly. I mean, it's a war.

Ty-man: Yeah, true. But, he probably had some lackey trim his beard for him.

Me: General perks?

Ty-man: Yeah.

Me: Not me. If I'm a general fighting a war? I don't want no beard-trimming perks. I want the Godiva-dark-chocolate-eating perks. That's for me.

Ty-man: Only you.

Happy New Year!

Three words for you:

Urinary. Tract. Infection.

One more word.

Joy.

Later 'taters!