Tag Archives: fishdog

a wee crush

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I realized last night when my oldest son smiled with pride and squeezed my neck cuz he was so pleased with himself for bringing up his dismal grades and when my youngest son put in the Weird Al CD and began to sing along word for word that I have a small crush on my children.

Which is actually a nice change of pace for me, since in the not too distant past, I’ve contemplated killing them several times.

I guess that fine line between love and hate applies to motherhood as well.

And then there’s the Fishdog. Sometimes I wonder how I deserve him. Last night, when I was completely tired and cranky, he fixed me soup and offered to pack for my San Francisco trip. A trip he’s not even going on. Honestly, that was just the sweetest thing. I was tempted to take him up on the offer, but then I realized his good intentions would backfire because he’d probably pack nothing I would want to take. So, I declined and packed for myself this morning.

Anyway, it just dawned on me that love really is a funny thing. (could I fill this blog with anymore cliches today? I mean, really?) A day comes along like yesterday that makes me forget all the stupid things they do and all the reasons I want to smack them and abandon them on the side of a dirt road in the middle of Deliverance-land.

In honor of Rader’s fascination with Weird Al…I give you Close But No Cigar(hey look, another cliche!)…there’s nothing quite like watching your 9 year old sing this… what a goofball.

mother’s day

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Usually, we do a movie for Mother’s Day but this year, the only thing that the boys were willing to take me to was Spiderman 3 and it’s not on my to see list. Looks a bit too melodramatic even for me. I like my cheese on a cracker, not on the big screen.

So I told them I wanted to plant an herb garden this year and they could help. Imagine the joy they felt in their hearts to know they were going to have to help Mom plant stuff instead of going to a movie.

In their defense, they managed to assist me with my tomatoes and peppers pretty much without complaint. But about five minutes into the herb portion of the planting, they wandered off toward the water hose and a mud puddle–where they spent the next 3 hours making a total mess of the backyard, but having a damn fine time doing it.

Here’s the product of our labor:

I had Fishdog and the boys buy this planter spefically for my herb garden. Isn’t it awesome? I planted 9 herbs: Lemon Basil, Dill, Thyme, Cilantro, Roesmary, Lemon Verbena, Parsley, and Oregeno

a close up

In the back row I have 3 tomato plant and the other 4 pots contain various peppers. I love homemade salsa, don’t you?

Here’s the front flowerbed that I finally managed to mulch on Sunday after spending all last weekend weeding and planting. If all works out like I’ve planned, all the empty spaces will soon be filled with wildflowers

View 2

The side garden (it’s really all one big garden) This is where my roses are planted. They are doing beautifully now!

and just for fun, here’s a pic of my bearded irises from the other side of the house.

i’ve been a very good girl…

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I know, you’re shocked. How can a woman who has a Naughty River be a very good girl? Seems impossible, I know. But it must be true because the gods don’t answer the prayers of bad girls.

And today, my prayers were answered. (no, I didn’t win the lottery. Obviously, I haven’t been that good)

Today, the rain came and my heart did a little dance and sang a little song.

Am I happy for my flowers? Well, yes, that’s the cherry on top of my happy sundae, but it’s not the three scoops of ice cream.

I’m happy the rain came because I was being guilted into playing softball tonight.

By my husband.

Yes, he’s a bad boy, using the guilt card on me…she who rarely feels guilt. But oh, when it comes to The Fishdog and my loyalties, he knows how to twist the knife.

You see, I haven’t played softball in 3 years. A long time ago, I was a very good player. Today, I am a pretty good player with a lot of rust.

I stopped playing for the company team a few years back because I got sick of being at the fields 4 nights a week. Our summers were shot and it got to the point that the game I loved was becoming the game I loathed.

I made the mistake this year of telling Fishdog that I would be his backup-back-up-back-up-back-up player for this seasib. So he added me to the roster…and wouldn’t you know it, 4 girls were traveling for work and 1 had the stomach bug. My time had come to step up to the plate…so to speak.

And I really, really, really didn’t want to.

I silently prayed for rain. I did a couple of rain dances in the bathroom. I left the windows on my car down. I was contemplating washing my car when a rumble of thunder tickled my ear.

Could it be?

Could I really be so lucky?

Another roll of thunder tumbled through the sky and my heart began to patter to the beat of my rain-dancing feet. The sky turned into a roiling shade of gray. Lightning flashed.

But no rain came.

Or so I thought…

Apparently a flood hit where the softball fields are located and they canceled the games for tonight.

See, I told you. Obviously, I’ve been a very, very good girl and Fishdog got lucky that I didn’t have to miss LOST to go out to battle the chiggers and mosquitoes in the world softball.

i’ve been a very good girl…

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I know, you’re shocked. How can a woman who has a Naughty River be a very good girl? Seems impossible, I know. But it must be true because the gods don’t answer the prayers of bad girls.

And today, my prayers were answered. (no, I didn’t win the lottery. Obviously, I haven’t been that good)

Today, the rain came and my heart did a little dance and sang a little song.

Am I happy for my flowers? Well, yes, that’s the cherry on top of my happy sundae, but it’s not the three scoops of ice cream.

I’m happy the rain came because I was being guilted into playing softball tonight.

By my husband.

Yes, he’s a bad boy, using the guilt card on me…she who rarely feels guilt. But oh, when it comes to The Fishdog and my loyalties, he knows how to twist the knife. He may be a goofy SOB, but when he wants to, he can really turn on the charm…

You see, I haven’t played softball in 3 years. A long time ago, I was a very good player. Today, I am a pretty good player with a lot of rust.

I stopped playing for the company team a few years back because I got sick of being at the fields 4 nights a week. Our summers were shot and it got to the point that the game I loved was becoming the game I loathed.

I made the mistake this year of telling Fishdog that I would be his backup-back-up-back-up-back-up player for this seasib. So he added me to the roster…and wouldn’t you know it, 4 girls were traveling for work and 1 had the stomach bug. My time had come to step up to the plate…so to speak.

And I really, really, really didn’t want to.

I silently prayed for rain. I did a couple of rain dances in the bathroom. I left the windows on my car down. I was contemplating washing my car when a rumble of thunder tickled my ear.

Could it be?

Could I really be so lucky?

Another roll of thunder tumbled through the sky and my heart began to patter to the beat of my rain-dancing feet. The sky turned into a roiling shade of gray. Lightning flashed.

But no rain came.

Or so I thought…

Apparently a flood hit where the softball fields are located and they canceled the games for tonight.

See, I told you. Obviously, I’ve been a very, very good girl and Fishdog got lucky that I didn’t have to miss LOST to go out to battle the chiggers and mosquitoes in the world softball.

14 years and counting

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Happy Anniversary, Fishdog.

Heh. I miss the days of oversized spectacles and small waists. And Fishdog with hair. Lots of glorious hair. Funny what 14 years can do to ya:


2 kids and a couple of pantsizes later and still going strong.

planning ahead…

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This planning ahead thing is a fairly new concept for me.

The fam and I are headed to sunny Florida in two weeks. Since we’ll be gone for 11 days, the Fishdog and I have decided it might be prudent to start planning now.

So yesterday at lunch, we began to plan by making lists. Now, I’ve never been a list maker. I’m more of an organic, go-with-the-flow kinda gal. List making has always been too structured for me. You MUST complete this list or you have failed! Aaaagh! That goes against my go-with-the-flow nature!

But, I’m glad we made a list, cuz I see Fishdog has a lot to do before we leave.

I really can’t wait to head out. We’re going to Tallahassee for a couple of days to visit the GeraciClan. Then we’re headed down to Orlando to do the Disney/Universal Stuidos thing for a few days. We’re meeting my parents and my brother and his family there. We’ve rented a big house with a pool, so it should be a lot of fun. (with the help of a fermented beverage or two. That is a lot of family in one space…)

Rader hasn’t been to Disney yet. He’s 9, so it should be just about right for him to truly enjoy the rides. I’m excited about riding the Incredible Hulk Coaster with Rader. Totally stoked. Ian likes coasters, but he’s not fond of upside down…I prefer upside down over long drops. The Incredible Hulk Coaster has 7 inversions. Awesome.

After our Orlando stint, we’re traveling to the coast for a day or two. Ahhhh, the beach. I’ll get to see my friend and now my face crack dealer, Angie, and her sweet six month old baby. And if it all works out, I’ll get to meet Mr. Angie.

Then it’s home again. Fishdog will be busy with laundry on Sunday while I rest. Laying out on the beach can be exhausting!

intellectual fat

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I’m not exactly sure what intellectual fat is, but apparently my youngest son has it. He said it’s the stuff right under his eyes.

Intellectual fat sounds pretty special. I decided right then and there if I was gonna be fat, I should most definitely be intellectually fat.

What purpose does intellectual fat serve?

Let’s explore.

First off, if intellectual fat is only located beneath your eyes, then I think its purpose is obvious.  According to Fishdog, skinny people don’t have intellectual fat. That’s what they get for being skinny. So when they age, they get wrinkled. Those of us intellectually fat folks will not wrinkle and therefore we will look better than the skinnies. Intellectually fat folks age like fine wine. Fishdog says they all just need to eat a sandwich so they can get curvy like his hot mama. (or his hot TWFKAM).

Now, if intellectual fat can be located in other spots, then we must investigate.

Consider the possibility that intellectual fat could be located around the brain. Does that serve as a natural helmet for those who refuse to wear one? Or does it feed the brain to make intellectually superior people? I’m gonna go with #2 because frankly, people who refuse to wear a helmet can’t possibly have any intellectual fat anywhere in their system.

If intellectual fat is around the ass, then is that really very intellectual? What purpose does the intellectually fat ass serve? I suspect that’s where mine has landed–maybe if I sit on it a while, the reason will come to me.

happy birthday, fishdog!

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Today’s my beloved’s bday.

We’re gonna spend it eating pizza, drinking beer, and going to the movies. Then we’ll come home and have more beer and probably watch more movies.

And maybe I’ll kick his ass later when we fire up the Unreal Tournament.

Should be a good time.

Everyone pop over and wish the Fishdog a happy day.

happy birthday, fishdog!

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Today’s my beloved’s bday.

We’re gonna spend it eating pizza, drinking beer, and going to the movies. Then we’ll come home and have more beer and probably watch more movies.

And maybe I’ll kick his ass later when we fire up the Unreal Tournament.

Should be a good time.

Everyone pop over and wish the Fishdog a happy day.