Don't let anyone tell you can't make a difference. You can.

My middle child M's class recently participated in an incredible event called Respect Diversity. Respect Diversity does an art contest each year and this year's theme was "Rainbow of Color". M's class got an honorable mention for their submission, titled Rainbow Peace Wheel. Tonight they held the 2009 Respect Diversity program. Since M didn't really have to DO anything for the program, this is the kind of thing I normally would have tried to avoid. But we went, because I'm self employed and things like this are part of the reason.

So we went and listened to speaker after speaker, and then Respect Diversity gave a 50 anniversary Humanitarian award to Clara Luper and some of the kids (now very much grown ups) involved in the Oklahoma City sit in back during the Civil Rights Movement. CLARA LUPER WAS THERE. What an amazing icon of American history. I am in awe. For once, I am thrilled I went to one of these things. Perhaps I should go more often. The bump on the log thing is not becoming.....

I'm not sad about North Carolina's win this weekend.

Ya know, this past week was really crazy. And today, I'm not happy. My beloved dog Hammer is Naughty. So I purchased for my beloved a shock collar. Guess what, shock collars are USELESS when not turned on. Hammer gets out of the fence and into the neighborhood and to all who decided to take advantage of the weather, or who are simply IN THEIR OWN YARD taking out trash or cleaning out their car in their own driveway, or maybe enjoying an ice cold beverage, BEWARE.

Last night, Hammer went out in the back yard with his shock collar on. I am a single mom, so I delegate this chore to my children sometimes. Because it is impossible to keep up with the path of destruction left by three kids and two dogs.... It's definitely time for them to get off their duffs and maybe DO something sometimes besides breath, eat, play and poop. Before I know it, Hammer is out in the street in front of the house. Chasing him is a BIG JOKE because he will just run further away. So I try to figure out HOW he got out. Could be because the kids LEFT THE DANG GATE OPEN. I grabbed the remote to the shock collar and went after Hammer. I hit the vibrate button. No response from Hammer. I hit the shock button. No response from Hammer. Guess what, no one turned the collar itself on. And they left the gate open.... WHAT THE F????

Well great, no way to corral the little bugger. So I start warning the joggers and walkers going through the neighborhood near my house. I jogged alongside two joggers and told them my BAD DOG was up ahead and he would run at them, barking (ask my middle and oldest child how they encouraged that behavior in him....). They responded that he couldn't be as bad as this little spotted dog, about 20 pounds, brindle, who terrorized them a lot of the time. That little spotted dog, about 20 pounds, brindle? That's Hammer. The last straw for me was when Hammer cornered a guy walking his small daughter in a stroller. I've no clue how to get past the fact that my children are the reason he is out doing this. They think it is "funny" when he goes into attack mode. Tell that to the man trying to protect his toddler daughter in who was trapped in a stroller. HA HA HA! I need a beer. Stat!

Now ask yourself, what do we eat?

Last night my friend Whitney came over to talk loan consolidation. Loans being law school student loans, the kind you don't pay off until you are 85 years old. The kind you hope are forgiven based on the fact that you are cool and so therefore, you shouldn't have to pay them anymore. Unfortunately, nobody is that cool, not even me.

Recently, I had to purchase a shock collar for my beloved dog Hammer. Because he is naughty. Of late he has gotten out of the back yard and chased joggers, the neighborhood stray cats (okay, he gets gold stars for that endeavor), and anything else that moves up and down our street. The last straw was when Hammer went after a walker, a kind gentleman walking his toddler daughter in a stroller. The shock collar came in last Wednesday. Hammer tried to escape from the backyard, and after a little shock, he's been just perfect. Really. A good dog for once. I mean, I love him, but he is so, so terribly naughty.

Last night, while sipping wine and chatting with Whitney, my son let Hammer into the backyard. Nothing unusual there. But when Hammer came back in to the house, the fantastic shock collar had gone AWOL. It took me a little while to realize the collar was missing and I was disappointed. We'd had it less than a week and it was already gone?

Immediately I thought was that one of the kids removed it and I just wasn't paying attention. Along this thought line, I yelled at my children, "WHERE IS THE NEW COLLAR?"

My son pops over to the table and states, "D. A. M."

My first thought, my sentiments exactly. My second thought, why did he just spell damn? (albeit not exactly the correct spelling for this situation) Uh oh.....

Me: "What?"

My son: "D. A. M."

Me: "Excuse me?

E: "Don't Ask Me."

Me: "Okay." {thank goodness it wasn't the other dam(n)}....

She looks at me with venom in her eyes and it is getting on my nerves

Today was quite an adventure. I worked a little in the morning and then I went to assist my mother with an endeavor called Lunch on Noble. Lunch on Noble is a ministry that feeds disadvantaged people lunch on the weekdays every single day. D and E went with me and they were so helpful and it was really nice. Well, anything is nice compared to the constant fighting among siblings, the fighting that makes the alternative of stabbing myself in the eye seem like the wise choice.

After Lunch on Noble, the kids and I went to pick up M and ran some errands. One of those errands signifies the truth about me. I am OLD. My daughter is able to get her driver's permit in July. Driver's Ed is not the cheapest thing in town, although I wasn't facing debtor's prison over it. I just have this problem with parting with my money. Last night, at the escondido, I was reading some little weekly publication put out by the brilliant people who market our fair city. And there was an ad for driver's ed. Parent taught driver's ed. Guess what, it is WAY cheaper. So now, I am a teacher. And all of you should stay off the roads.

I also mowed my yard today. It is only March. It is already too hot outside to grill. I am not kidding. It is ridiculous.

I have a Coca-Cola problem.

Tonight, both of my daughters are having sleep overs at someone else's house. YAY! With both girls out of pocket, I always like to go do something with my son, just the two of us. Tonight we went to visit our favorite escondido, Ted's. It is a popular place and you almost always have to wait a spell before being seated. To entertain himself, E held the door open for people coming in and out. He did so without cheer, but everyone was very kind to him. A few people offered him tips and that got a grin out of him. At one point, I went in to visit the ladies' room and when I returned, E advised me that everyone had been saying thank you except...... me. I didn't thank my own son for holding the door open for me. How RUDE.

Well, I am sure you all know Karma, that ugly thing that rears its head more often than not. Tonight, I got a visit. I am pretty sure it was because I was so lacking in manners with my own child. You see, when I sat down on the bench to await the call of my name telling me dinner drew near, after visiting the ladies room, the underwire in my bra snapped and came through the fabric at about the mid point. I am not a big fan of being stabbed by random metal pieces. And indeed I had been. I have a bloody scab to prove it. No, I will not show you.

I'm lame. I cried during Hotel for Dogs.

D: What is this? [as she unloads the dishwasher]

Me: A bud vase.

D: A butt vase?

Me: A BUD vase, with a d. But you can call it whatever you want as long as you just put it up.

D: I'm going to call it a butt vase. I am going to name it Julie.

[Me thinking.... GREAT]

You caught me under false pretenses

I do hereby acknowledge and declare that I have flaws. There, now that I have made my declaration, I can proceed to eviscerate some flaws I found rather distasteful today. I took my children to the movies this afternoon. The wild weather fluctuations have made my face hurt, almost like I fell on it, except I didn't fall on it at all. Needless to say, I might be a little snippy right now, but I don't care. I'm going to turn my filter off and say things I will regret later.

Don't come to the movie theater after not bathing for 48+ hours and having smoked the entire time. You smell bad. My nostrils are burned from the stench. If Dwayne Johnson hadn't been so pretty and inviting on the big screen, therefore providing a wonderful and pretty constant distraction, I would have vomitted from having to smell you the entire time. I guess I don't understand the logic, but evidently smokers think they smell smokey, therefore, why bother bathing, because smoke odour should totally cover BO/Poo Bottom. Right? Not so much. Instead, said smokers smelled like BO/Poo Bottom/AND SMOKE. Not what perfume designers are clamouring to bottle and sell to unsuspecting consumers. Eau de PooSmo. Catchy, but not fragrant in a good way. Also, SHUT UP. I did not pay money to hear you talk. I paid money to hear Dwayne Johnson talk. K? That is all.

I will soothe your pain

I have plenty to talk about. I have it all stored up around here somewhere. But alas, there is so much data I am having retrieval problems. Maybe it is my firewall. Because I am figuratively brain dead right now, I am doing a Meme (I still don't know that actually means, but that hasn't stopped me yet).

This Meme involves our good friend Google. And you google "{your name} thinks" and "{your name} doesn't" and then list them, 5 of each. See, no challenge in that at all. If you are reading this post, consider yourself tagged.

THE THINKER

1. Julie thinks Kevin is a psycho.
Oh Kevin, I didn't mean it at all. Sorry it is all over the internet now.

2. Julie thinks she's a nun.
Well, duh. I mean, I can't have angel wings, being a nun is the next best thing, right?

3. Julie thinks she has 40 dollars.
And it was wishful thinking indeed.

4. Julie thinks of a unique way to tell the public of the eagles’ plight.
Sniffle

5. Julie thinks Dorothy is a lesbian.
And now Dorothy knows the sordid truth about what Julie thinks about her....

TO DO OR NOT TO DO

1. Julie doesn't locate utilities.
So quit asking.

2. That fact that Julie doesn't write love songs is just the tip of the proverbial iceberg.
Just a second, I am looking up the word proverbial.

3. Julie doesn't have any stickers.
But she prefers the scratch and sniff stickers, if you are so inclined.

4. Julie doesn’t do diagrams on the board or long dissertations.
I also didn't do Dallas. Wasn't me at all.

5. Julie doesn't have any current challenges.
Julie is also a liar.

All right, now you. And GO!

Pure Energy

She pulled her seat belt on and we backed out of the driveway and onto our street and then proceeded to drive out of our neighborhood, while the rain/sleet/whatever hailed down on our car in a fury. My oldest child looked at me fearfully from the passenger seat. Her bottom lip quivered as she attempted to form the words, "Are you going to make me walk home today?" Now, I am never cruel or mean to my children. EVER. But today, I couldn't help myself. So I looked at her solemnly and announced that I had court and therefore, we had no options. She would have to walk and I really hoped she remembered one of the umbrellas. I then resumed singing along with the song on the radio and tapping my fingers non-chalantly on the steering wheel. I just want you to know that I consider it a work-out how hard I had fight to hold my breath to keep from bursting out laughing. I was able to keep the serious facade up for an entire 40 seconds. Of course, by the time I mentioned I was kidding, she had made the decision to ignore me the entire rest of our 5 minute ride. What EVAH.

I got a request to post photos of our new dog. The problem with that is she is YOUNG and she has all of this energy. If doctors could tap that energy, they could totally make a new diet pill and make millions and millions. Plus, think about how much you could get done if you were never tired. The point of this paragraph is that our new dog is very hard to photograph because she is THAT busy. I'm going to give you a visual of what she looks like though, because I am nice like that. There is a movie called The NeverEnding Story. In that movie there is a white dog with scales, who also flies, named Falcor. Skippy doesn't have scales, and she isn't white, but she reminds me of Falcor. If her name wasn't so cute, I would totally have to call her Falcor. She loves to take toys from Hammer and then run under the couch. She is just short enough to get under there. Then he barks and carries on because he can't get to her. Anyway, I made D hold Skippy semi-still for a photo! It sort of worked.

She has these short wittle wegs and she RUNS as fast as she can and I talk for her in a high pitched voice. She cocks her head when I talk for her like that and I know she is thinking, "My, what a cute voice you have given me," and is not in fact plotting to murder me while I sleep because she would totally sound like Zooey Deschanel and not a nagging wife if she really had a voice.

Hi Aunt Sandy!

I just noticed in my little feed that my Aunt Sandy has come to see my blog, all the way from the beautiful state of Pennsylvania. HI AUNT SANDY!!! I'm sorry there haven't been pictures or fun kid stories lately. It is because my camera is out of commission. Every time I turn on the camera it says "card not initialized." Before all of my friends tell me to take it out and put it back in, I did that. I also did everything the owner's manual said to do. So now, we wait.........

Freakishly Awesome

Today, Chuck Norris turned 69. That is 70-1. I am in shock. He seems so 40-50 to me. If you talk to him, tell him I totally meant that in a nice way. I don't want him to knock me into next year or something.

I have discovered this week that there ARE limits to how nice I can be in any given case. In dealing with some people, I would really like it if Chuck Norris was my co-counsel. Then I could be like, "You don't want to give me income information even though you have to under state law? Hmmm... Chuck, what do you have to say about this?" Now, Chuck moves pretty fast, so I don't know that we will ever know how he handled the situation. But I assure you that my opposing counsel would never give me lip about giving me stuff they are required to give me EVER AGAIN. I wouldn't even be smug about it. I would be all nice, but don't think I wouldn't remind them about Chuck if the need arose.

Unfortunately, Chuck is not a lawyer in Oklahoma. I am at a loss. I am not even sure it is considered being "nice" if you are gritting your teeth and talking in a monotone. So instead of sticking my foot up opposing counsel's, uh, well, I am talking about them here, to the world wide web. And let this be a reminder to stop making me so angry.

Getting the carpets cleaned. Which is why I hate carpet.

On the radio this morning, I heard that it is not Daylight Savings Time, it is Daylight Saving Time. Do you know what this means? I have been saying it wrong my ENTIRE life. Read if again if you are sitting there going, wha?

I really don't mind springing forward. But falling back is my favorite. Of course, I associate the falling back with fall and then winter and of course, those are the months where I do not have issues with being TOO HOT. Yesterday, it bordered on hot here. Today, it is supposed to reach 86 degrees. In the first week of March may I remind you. My projections indicate that we will reach 100+ degree weather by May. By then, I will have packed and moved to Canada. Don't worry, I will send you a post card.

Tonight, I decided we were having eggs, bacon and toast. Completely uninspired. I have recently gotten more, uh, public service oriented. Right? I am trying to reduce my environmental impact and stuff. SO, I got cage free eggs, because chickens have rights too. Also, because somehow if chickens are out of cages, the environment smells better or something. So there I am, cracking open the eggs, when I discover a dark brown ball of something in one of them. I tried to ignore it, so then I cracked open egg 7 in a series of almost a dozen. And IT had some red stuff in it. Like blood. Kind of a lot. For a larger person, I am VERY picky about my food. And the embryo and subsequent bloody mess totally ruined the egg thing. So after I threw up a little bit in my mouth and removed the evidence, we did quesadillas. And bacon.

Then a guy called. And basically accused me of NOT being an attorney. So I told him he could.... Wait, no, I told him he could verify my veracity, intergrity, and such at our bar association. Which he should have done before he called to accuse me. I mean, he could have eliminated the call to me. Then I never would have known that maybe I wasn't an attorney after all.

In other news, our female rescue doggie, Rennie, well, she got the snip this past week. Primarily because I think it is the responsible thing to do, but also because a certain cocker spaniel next door has been coming over, asking if he can take her out to the drive in. Like I am falling for that. E, my nine year old son, was curious about this surgery. So I told him a LOT without really telling him anything. Then he wanted to know if it hurts when you have a baby and they cut the cord. And about how they have to cut the cord at both ends. I suppressed my laughter. Then I weighed the outcome if I told him about the placenta, and how the mother doesn't feel anything, and then I lied and told him baby's come when the stork brings them. The cord, it is a thing of fiction. Also, don't worry. You are a boy and boys do not have to deal with such things.