I have this ball bouncing around in there, smacking the sides of my skull and rolling around my brain rendering me an idiot

I know I have a lot of male commentors so there's a good chance you missed my post at www.skirt.com, it's a woman's online magazine that has politely accepted my request to blog for them. So what did I do? I posted about boy stuff. I'm just a rebel and I'm never, ever, ever gonna be any good. Now go read this post so you can follow along with the rest of this one. So I guess I have a "Bracket" now?

Apparently "it" is starting again, tonight. The madness I mean. If I have one more guy explain the crazy world of Brackets to me again my brain will explode. You know how it is when you really don't give a flying crap about a particular subject? Or your brain is too busy to process useless information. Or no matter how hard you concentrate you're just never going to get, oh say the Flux Capacitor, Quantum Physics or March Madness NCAA College Basketball Brackets.
The information that is being forced into my brain, because I was foolish enough to listen to the guy at work and fill out a bracket, cause it's free, is giving me brain damage. This information is going in and I think because I can't process it, has formed into a ball of useless knowledge. Without the ability to understand the bracket concept or just not wanting to, I have this ball bouncing around in there, smacking the sides of my skull and rolling around my brain rendering me an idiot.
How much longer does the Madness last? I use my brain almost everyday and have become very fond of it, I'd really like to keep it intact as much as possible. I've got myself closed in my office at the moment. Eventually I'll have to use the facilities. Do I have to avoid my family all weekend?
The guy at work, the one that started this, I have him under control. He doesn't speak of it. Would you like to know why? Cause I'm kicking his ass, that's why. He's going down. He's probably out of it already. A girl is beating him, me.

When things go missing

"Why is the dog's tongue blueish/green?"
This snapped Boy #3 to attention and he crawled into the dogs little house. All you could see were his butt and his feet.

Can we just go off topic for a minute? Of course we can, it's my blog.
The fact that Boy #3 dove into the doghouse cannot be ignored. Both of his older brothers were in the vicinity and they could have easily gave him a swift kick in the butt and locked him in. Like they've done before. I really don't know how Boy #3 survived his childhood. Anyway my baby exhibited bravery far beyond the call of duty. I just needed to point that out.

He emerged from the doghouse with a chewed pen, only half of it.
"Ah, that explains the discoloration. See if you can find the other half. Please let it be in there."
Once again he emerged, "Dad, here's you spare keys. I found the rest of the pen."
"I guess it's time to get rid of that old comforter in there, she has it ripped to shreds, too many hiding places."
The dogs sanctuary, her little place to go unwind after a long hard day of neighborhood watching, is where our old comforters go to die a slow painful death. She's a comforter killer, sometimes she gets them before their time is up. She has a thing for the stuffing, she guts them.
When things go missing her house is the first place we look, it use to be Boy #2's room. His room is the second place we look for all things lost. He's a non-returner, a keeper of all, he loses things. The husband has him putting up a deposit on the tools he borrows and I didn't feel the least bit guilty sending him out in the cold late at night to buy me tape so I could finish my Christmas wrapping. He's got to have about 27 rolls of tape in his room somewhere.

I guess you can say we had a productive Sunday. The dog only ingested ink, not plastic, she has a new pillow in her house, the husband has his spare keys and Boy #3 didn't get locked in the doghouse. I don't ask for much.

Still Winter Zombies

Northeast Ohio has four seasons, Almost Winter, Winter, Still Winter and Construction. We are, at this moment, in the intolerable season of Still Winter. It's the season that tries man's soul, separates the men from the boys, the season of despair, children literally bounce off the walls in complete and utter boredom, women crying in the streets, it's the season we go bat crap crazy.
March 10, 2011 and we have yet another winter storm looming in the distance. It is poised to strike at 8:00 pm this evening. We seasoned Northeast Ohioans after being fed this information, go about our day in a zombie-like state. It is futile to complain. Bring it.
Back in the season of Winter we would run to the store after hearing news of the impending doom and stock up on provisions. Not now. Now we will eat our young if we have to, we are Still Winter Zombies after all.
"Snow?"
"Yes, snow."
"More snow?"
"Approximately 4 to 12 inches, depending on where you live."
"It's been raining for 3 days, more snow?"
"Yes, snow."
I've started talking to myself, out loud.
"The floods, what about the floods?"
"I imagine they will still be there when this new snow melts."
"In particular, the flood at the beginning of our development precious. The one that has plagued our commute to work and such."
"That will most likely become a sheet of ice, making our ride into work interesting, tricksy, you might say."

I do believe I'm at the bat crap crazy stage now but I'm trying to keep it under wraps. I had a 15 minute conversation at work today about pencils, that can't be good. But who wouldn't want to hear about the best pencil ever made? The Dixon/Ticonderoga, I never knew it was the best, I listened with interest.

Remember to feed the dog, we'll be back Sunday

Since it's our money and not theirs until we are dead, the husband and I ran off for the weekend and chipped away at the kids inheritance. I very much miss the days when the boys were young but you can't beat packing one suitcase, carrying it to the door, looking back at whoever might be listening and say, "Remember to feed the dog, we'll be back Sunday." It's a high that you really can't explain unless you've traveled with children. Neither of us threw up and we never had to threaten anyone that we would "pull this car over right now."

Taking these weekend trips are for us and us only, so there are no souvenirs involved either. We don't want to spoil them. They have come to rely on mom's ingenuity, free stuff. On this trip I scored eye makeup remover, a couple tea bags, a hot chocolate pack, hand lotion, a still wrapped in cellophane cup and coffee cup, a coffee package specially made for hotel coffee makers, a pack of creamer and a small pack of salt. These will be dispersed among my children. I brought home some matches but at the ages of 24, 21 and 18, I still don't trust them with a pack of matches and probably never will.

Which button, which button?

"I just don't understand. There's a POWER button and an ON/OFF button and I turn it on by pushing the POWER button?"
"No. Mom how many times.....?" Boy #3 is exasperated.
Standing in front of the fairly new TV like I always do with the remote when I try to turn it on, I consult my offspring, the exasperated one.

"You push the ON/OFF button."

"Oh that's right, I always forget. I don't want to push the wrong one because then I really don't know which one of these five smaller ones to push to fix it, you know......" Boy #3 had retreated to his room during my confusion. That's alright, it's not like I don't know where he lives.

Most of the time I just leave the TV on now so I don't have to turn it on, especially if no one's home. That's why I have the memory lapse's.

Boy #1 came over Sunday, out of the corner of my eye I could see him point the remote towards the TV.

"Nooooooo." I dove in front of the TV just like a Secret Service Agent taking a bullet for the President. "Which button did you push?" I looked at the TV and the screen was blank. "Which button, which button?"

"Did you take your little green pill today?"

"I have to get your brother involved now, he's losing his patience with me."

"You don't know how to turn on your own TV?"

I smacked him on top of his head with the remote and called his brother.

"This is...there's got to be....what the hell? Why is this so difficult."

"I'm going to look up how to program it."

"Would you please, this is disconcerting."

"Don't use your big writing class words with me. What does that mean?"

______________________________

I had so much fun in my Writing Class that I'm taking another, starting March 16. I think I've learned a lot, I'll be knocking your socks off very soon.