Not even his mother.

Ethan is an “expert” on driving now. He’s been studying it like mad for weeks.

He constantly points out things we are doing “incorrectly” while driving. And, I should probably mention that nobody likes a backseat driver either.

• Mike didn’t turn his turning signal on early enough prior to making a turn.
• I looked over my shoulder and didn’t use my rear view mirrors when pulling out of a parking space. (I actually DID use them, he just didn’t SEE me)

Mike and I have nearly spotless driving records. He has one speeding ticket and I have one speeding ticket.

Although, my speeding ticket is completely justifiable. It was a Friday morning, mid-Spring, the start of a beautiful day and we were on the freeway blaring Dean Martin and singing along. I was probably speeding a little… but it was certainly no where near the 85 in a 55 mph zone that was stated on the ticket.

Truthfully, it was impossible for my jeep to actually hit the speed that the asshole officer claimed I was going. Absolutely impossible without extreme shaking, jerking, wheezing and other assorted noises that no car should ever make or be forced to make, let alone a 1990 Jeep Cherokee. Which is partially why I no longer own that vehicle. Still, to this day that remains my one and only ticket. Ever.

Mike’s speeding ticket is another story altogether. We were coming home from an out of town inspection and the roads were clear and empty. In Mike’s world that means the speed limit is just a mere suggestion and nothing to be taken seriously. The highway patrolman hiding behind a turn out disagreed.

I’m sure Ethan doesn’t recall either of these situations nonetheless he is insisting on “saving” us from our “poor” driving habits. He may not live to take the behind-the-wheel test in January.

Ahhh, another Saturday night. I don’t recall a time when Saturday night meant something more than, “Yippee, Sunday breakfast after a morning spent sleeping in!”

Parties, bars, etc. That was probably more my husband’s scene for many years than my own. He’s cool with that NOT being his scene now and truthfully, I wouldn’t know any different so it doesn’t really matter.

Typing things like that really makes me feel old.

I’m typing this in my pajamas while listening to Maggie nag Kate almost relentlessly. Kate is watching Avril Lavigne on A&E’s “Private Sessions” for at least the 5th time. Ethan is walking around moody and rather pissy since he has been suffering from a migraine all day. I feel for the kid but the pissiness is wearing thin on my nerves.

I rarely get migraines anymore, this being a lovely combination of prescription medications and sheer will power. (See Louis L. Hay, “You Can Heal Your Life” - it actually works)

Mike is out in the garage banging away on the drums. Yes, we are now hosts to a drum set in our garage. Kate has taken to them and seems to have a natural knack as does Maggie. Mike has been praying for a drummer since his son took up lead guitar and knocked him to bass guitar. Now, he has two drummers beating each other unconscious for her “turn.”

I would be loving life if the little one would lose and be rendered unconscious for a few hours. The incessant shrieking today is about to make me stab myself in the ears with an ice pick and run screaming down the street ala Jamie Lee Curtis in “Halloween.”

Instead I’ve settled for 3 shots of tequila and am about to mosey (you mosey after three shots) into the kitchen for a couple more. I’ll still hear the shrieking but most likely, I won’t give a damn.

My mother bought Kate the latest (and last) Harry Potter book. Awesome of her, I think! I read the last 3 chapters and the epilogue. I wanted to avoid the heartache and drama and just read about Voldemort getting his ass beat. That couldn’t have been much of a spoiler… not even the mildly sadistic JK Rowling would let us go without Lord V getting a well-deserved ass whomping.

For the first time in what feels like (and actually is) years I have a reading list. An actual list of books I intend to purchase and read… that is, as soon as I can recall where I saved the list on my computer. Wish me luck with that, will ya?

I haven’t done a lot of reading over the past few years, well, not since Maggie could crawl anyway. That and I am still waiting for the latest installment of Sue Grafton’s Alphabet Mysteries to come out. There is really nothing worse than being completely caught up and having to WAIT it out to see what happens to your favorite heroine ever! (Kinsey Millhone, duh).

So, these are the things running through my mind tonight as I sit here, slightly buzzed, listening to Amy Grant’s “Simple Things” for the 1000th time this week. That is currently my favorite song and certainly my all-time favorite Amy Grant song - which really says something considering I’ve been listening to her music since she began… grew up with it you could say. I recall my mother playing Age to Age on Sunday mornings while working the curlers out of my hair for church.

*sigh*

Now, I really feel old.

I’m done now.

G’night.

Amy Grant - Simple Things

There is something I’ve been thinking about lately. Only because there have been commercials and numerous news reports. Apparently, this is a big, big issue and no one is paying attention. It’s awful, horrible and so horrific that it has to be covered in every available form of media. And, while I’m sure there are some people who are affected by this, I think there is a very important aspect that everyone is clearly missing…

What the hell is her problem? Her husband has no problem smiling… and yet, this woman goes around with a perpetual sourpuss look on her face. It’s like right before she leaves the house shes sucks on a lemon.

Money - check.
Famous - check.
Skinny - check.

You can bet that if our own Miss B had all three of those (she is skinny already and not in that sick-ass Posh Spice skinny way, thank God) biggies - her happy ass would be smiling all the time.

—————————–*PIMPING*——————————

Remember, the Blogathon starts at 8am Central Time - TOMORROW! Get out there and support some of these bloggers who are going to post for 24 hours straight raising money for charity. I’ve sponsored some bloggers and if you can - you should too.

From past Blogathons I can tell you that the later the hour the more interesting things become, it’s well worth checking in throughout the night to support the bloggers and laugh your ass off.

Tense Teacher - will be blogging at Tense For A Reason http://tenseteach.wordpress.com/ for The Smile Train which provides free surgeries to children born with a cleft palate, cleft lip, etc.

Bug - will be blogging at her usual spot, An Indian Summer - http://www.anindiansummer.net/, for The American Cancer Society.
- In addition to this, Bug has a pretty cool post up on being a $5 Fairy. Excellent idea!!!

You can go here to start sponsoring! I’m really hoping that maybe next year we can do the Blogathon over at These Walls Have Ears. That would require settling on a charity and since Avitable is, well, Satan… it makes things a little tough to agree occasionally.

And, finally, charity and good deeds aside - if you have a bone to pick with someone, I heartily suggest that you visit www.postcardhell.com and buy some of Avitable’s lovely artwork. He has implied that should sales skyrocket he will begin donating to some charity. Unfortunately, he also referred to the potential recipient as “The Jigsaw Foundation” so I think he means he is going to use his dog to launder money back into his own pocket.

It occurred to me that someone might think these pics are linked to bigger versions of the same pic or something… actually, the pics are linked to the store that sells these items.

Well, they are more comfortable than a thong I suppose.

Right?

So the other night I stepped out of the shower, wrapped a towel around my hair and proceeded with my post-shower ritual of moisturizer, eye gel, etc. Then I used the mousse and started to blow dry my hair. That’s about the time my hair dryer blew up in my face. My fabulous super-duper high-powered, “this is the only thing that can blow dry Amy’s hair without frying it all to hell” blow dryer.

Within 45 seconds of beginning my drying routine there was a puff of smoke and bright orange sparks flying into my face. I could have lost my eyebrows or my eyelashes (DEAR GOD NO!!!!)!!!! Wow, I just realized that this could have damaged my eyes. Still… blind - ok, bald eyes… strange, freeeeeeeeaky! I did get a small burn on my cheek bone.

Thank God my hair was wet… I could have pulled a Michael Jackson right there in the bathroom!!

Let me make this clear - BLOW DRYER BLEW UP IN. MY. FACE!!!

My husband, who was brushing his teeth at the time, didn’t even notice. I know I heard several pops and cracks… he was completely oblivious. I could have spontaneously combusted or at the very least set myself aflame and he never would have noticed.

He noticed after it happened when I started screaming and threw the dryer into the sink. But, come on! Is that what it takes? Screams and throwing things?

On second thought… freaking duh.

We decided, in early spring, to grow our own pumpkins this year. We have large beds that were mainly empty and just dotted with very young plants, we felt we had the room to accommodate a few pumpkin vines seeing as at the end of the “season” we would harvest our pumpkins and remove the remaining vines.

I want to preface the following pictures by saying we only planted 4 or 5 plants that we grew from seeds.

We have about 8 pumpkins the size of large grapefruits and bigger. The bottom picture shows one of the large grapefruit sized pumpkins. And, if it were not for the help of the blogosphere’s neighborhood pumpkin farmer, I don’t know that we would have so many. I’m sure we wouldn’t.

Of course, what we didn’t quite expect was how much just a few plants would expand. They have filled the flowerbed running up the right side of the backyard and we have to look very hard to find our key lime tree or our very small society garlic. Needless to say, we are really looking forward to cutting these plants back soon to encourage the growth of the pumpkins there and hopefully reclaim our flower beds.

That was the sound of the last of the weekend going down the toilet.

I hate that sound. Especially since this weekend consisted of nothing even remotely weekend-like. We’re going to have to work on that… in a very serious way.

Friday - cleaned my bathroom.

Saturday - cleaned out my closet and did a ton of laundry.

Sunday - traditional family breakfast, worked on computer issues, played with Sophie. Watched Gene Simmons Family Jewels on A&E (heeeeeeelarious!)

See what I mean? Crapville. Boooooooooorrrrriiiiiiiingggg!

I wish I had at least flopped out and watched some of the crap I have recorded on the DVR. I did watch Daredevil with Katie. I was surprised at how much I enjoyed it. I do like Ben Affleck. He’s one of the few guys who is not in the age group of men I prefer - but is still pretty damn sexy. Maybe it’s the extra scruff he totes around from time to time. I dunno. *whew* It’s getting a little warm in here.

Anyway, I did take the time to do a new video. Enjoy.

I know, I know, no complaining about work / orders when it is flooding in.

And, yet… the floods cometh and I have misplaced my life jacket. Which is fine because nothing I own goes with fluorescent orange anyway. (Oh, my addiction to Deadliest Catch on Discovery channel is showing now, isn’t it?)

I don’t know how long it has been since I have commented on blogs but it’s been A WHILE. I suck, I’m sorry, I’m going to try and catch up this weekend. If I’m not… you know… sleeping or something.

*sigh* Nothing is worse than one of these posts where a lazy commenter apologizes for being a lazy commenter. I know. Sorry.

And now for completely obscene and offensive blogging… names removed to protect the family member from further scorn.

Doran Family Member 1: “I am fucking STARVING!!!!”

Doran Family Member 2: “Really? How does STARVING feel about that?”

:evil:

Have a good weekend all!!!

Maggie has always referred to our bedroom (the one that belongs to Mike and I) as “mommy’s room” and “mommy’s bed.” Always. I’m not sure why… although, the fact that her father is sometimes evicted to the couch might secure her belief that he is only a guest in the master bedroom. :evil:

The other night Maggie was tired and starting to get a little cranky.

“Daddy!!! Let’s gooo to Mommy’s bed!”

“Daddy! I tired, let’s go Mommy’s bed!!!”

“DADDY!!!! Let’s go to Mommy’s room!!! I TIIIIIIIIIIIIIIRED!!!!”

Mike replied, “I sure wish I had a bed.”

Maggie got very quiet and with a very serious look said, “I wish I had marshmallows and french fries.”

Wow, this post seemed like such a great idea when I first thought of it. I somehow thought it would be cathartic or therapeutic or something. But, now that I am sitting here with a slight headache, no coffee, and a blank screen, I have no idea how to put the words in this little box.

There is no easy way to put this. You see, while I have had my head down, nose to the grindstone for… well, coming up on exactly 1 year, August first, my extended family has been falling apart.

No more gathering politely and diplomatically for the sake of the grandchildren on holidays, birthdays, etc. The parents (mine, who have been divorced since I was 13) don’t care to play nice anymore. And, here I even moved to a larger house so they could sit further apart at Christmas. Pfft, that’s gratitude for you.

You know the story of my sister. Recently she began leaving comments on my MySpace. No real emails or actual messages, just comments. Which, is fine, I suppose. At least it’s something, right? We haven’t actually spoken in quite some time. If you read the posts then you know she pulled herself away from the family.

Then there is my brother, GJ, and my son. The two are 6 months apart, have attended the same schools together their entire lives and the majority of the time were even in the same classes. These two were closer than close and, according to my son, best friends.

Something has changed over the last year or so. GJ is in the school choir and Ethan is on the cross country and track team. Both have excelled earning Varsity positions. They had a couple of classes together over the last year, but I don’t think there was a lot of interaction. Both seem to feel that the other is giving him the cold shoulder. My mother is convinced that I have some sort of inside knowledge of the whole affair and while I admit that Ethan and I are close, this is not something we have discussed at great length - aside from the whole “cold shoulder” aspect.

Actually, GJ is pretty pissed at me as well. You see, I didn’t make it to any of his concerts last year. I know, that makes me a pretty crappy sister and it’s not as if I don’t feel bad about it because I do. I really do. We didn’t start our business because we wanted to, we started it because we had to and it was the only means to continue supporting our family when my husband lost his job last year just two months after buying a brand new house. GJ has a right to his feelings. I respect that. I’ve apologized to him, personally, in fact, I believe it was about the same time that my mother and I hosted a shower for my friend, last fall. (just on the off chance that they do decide to read this and think that I made that last part up, gotta have times and dates some times, I suppose.)

Then there is my mother. We used to have coffee together every morning after we dropped the kids off at school. Sometimes we’d shop afterward sometimes we’d go for a walk… other times we’d get our coffee and get going because maybe she had a class or a mid-term to study for.

She graduated last year and suddenly had more available time. I moved, less than 5 minutes away and within 2 months of moving, Mike and I started a business. Suddenly, I had no extra time. Yes, I blog, sure I interact with friends online, but these are all things I can do without leaving my desk or the work (thank God for the work! work = $$$) that we now rely on 100% to provide our income.

My mom used to say that she read my blog to “keep up” with what was going on with me since we rarely talk anymore. The thing is, I don’t talk on the phone much at all. 99.9% of my communication both business and personal is done via IM and email.

Now, my mom says she finds my blog crude and offensive. Which is fine, my blog was never intended to be a blow-by-blow factual accounting of my life. Not that it isn’t factual, but this is my recreation, my downtime, my play ground. I never had any intention of it being utilized as a way to keep someone abreast of what was going on with me.

The truth is? I lead a pretty quiet, boring life. I love my family both immediate and extended. It’s not a matter of evolving, changing relationships, but maybe it is. It’s just… well, my family comes first which means that business comes first or the family isn’t provided for.

And yes, there are still long days. But, things are getting better, business is getting easier to manage and things are coming together a little easier. That doesn’t mean it isn’t work. And, it doesn’t mean that I don’t miss out on things with my own kids - because I have. And, sure, it’s always a choice… I suppose I could choose to be homeless as well.

But all the hard work, would have been a little easier with support instead of criticism, understanding instead of complaints, and tolerance instead of a belief that my work ethic was nothing more than a personal slight directed specifically at someone. Oh, and a pat on the back? That would have been greatly appreciated.

To my mother and brother, I love you both. I’m sorry if I’ve disappointed you. I’m sorry if you have been hurt. I’m sorry if over the past year I’ve seemed less than friendly. And I’m really very sorry that neither of you can understand.

And, right now? I’m too tired to go on worrying and fretting over it anymore and I’m just too freakin’ busy, stressed, and exhausted to make the effort to smooth it over. I can’t do it all. I just cant.