Tag Archives: my rep

oops! I had mail!

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Fishdog informed me today that he discovered a glitch in the code of my contact form page…therefore I haven’t received many of your emails! ACK!

So sorry about that. I did respond to all of the ones he found and forwarded to me. I am especially thrilled to report that I got fan mail from Romania! Woohoo! That’s a first!

The biggest question asked was “will there be a third book in the series.” I’m sorry to report that it doesn’t look like it, at this time. But y’all keep spreading your love for the series and who knows what will happen?

I read all of my fan mail and try to respond in a much more timely fashion. I promise. Nothing makes me smile brighter than reading happy notes about something I worked very hard on!

Thanks to all of you! (except for the anonymous ones that thankfully I didn’t have to read due to the glitch…)

In other news… well, it’s Friday. And I’m very glad about it. I think I’ll go to lunch with my college boy and after work, I will take a walk. It’s too pretty to stay inside…

Of course, you know that means it’s gonna rain now, right?

Happy weekend, y’all!

8 reasons

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I didn’t give birth to girls for several reasons. I’m quite sure that Fate knew what the hell she was doing when she kept me from mothering the female gender. You would think that because I’m an awesome female that would automatically make me an awesome mother to a female. Well if that’s what you think, your thinking is flawed.

8 Reasons Mel Did Not Give Birth to Girls:

  1. You know that song that you hear that just speaks to you? It played for the first time during the perfect moment and it just stuck? And you get a rush of love feelings like goosebumps, and flutters, and heart palpitations? (or is that just me?) Well, one of those songs for me when I was younger was MANDOLIN RAIN by Bruce Hornsby. What does this have to do w/ me not having a daughter? I was going to name my daughter Manodlin Rain. I wish I was kidding. I’m not. (I still love the song, BTW)
  2. My favorite color is pink, but there is no way in hell I would dress my little girl in pink unless it was a baseball cap. Or a football jersey.
  3. I would NEVER tape a bow to my baby girl’s bald-ass head. WHY WOULD ANYONE TAPE A BOW TO A BALD HEAD?
  4. I would NEVER put a big flowery headband on my baby girl’s bald-ass head. AGAIN. I JUST DON’T GET THIS.
  5. Just because my child is XX doesn’t mean she can’t learn to drive a boat, shoot a gun (if that’s what you’re into), play football (I had a helluva arm. Still do actually), go frog giggin’, catch crawdads, climb a tree, and get dirty. Apparently I’m in the rare minority of southern mommas who believe this.
  6. If I’d had a daughter, she would’ve been cursed with my hips. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sex-on-a-stick but I wouldn’t wish these hips on anyone. There’s a difference between curvy and dangerous curves ahead. I’m pretty sure my hips put me into the dangerous arena. Mainly because I knock into shit as I walk by; not because they’re so sexy they’re dangerous.
  7. I think super long hair on little girls is a waste of good playing time. I also don’t think girls should have to brush their hair if they don’t want to. I mean, that’s why we have ball caps and ponytails, right?
  8. She would’ve probably also inherited my mouth. It’s bad enough that I have boys with my smart mouth, but really, why would I want to bring another female into this world with the same curse?

I’m sure I could go on, but these are just a few reasons why Fate was smart enough to give me dirty, rotten, stinky (very stinky), unkempt, lizard-huntin’ boys.

Please enjoy the Mandolin Rain video…(seriously, I’m kinda back on the it would make a great name bandwagon!)

spring cleaning

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Today, Mel-O-Drama becomes Mel-O-Maid. Like my outfit?


It’s very rare that I get sick of the house. Seriously, as I explained before, I can ignore just about everything. Dishes in the sink, clothes on the floor, hairballs the size of goats…you name it, I’ve ignored it.

But, once or twice a year, the cleaning bug hits me. And today, I’m feverish with the need to clean. So, I’ve taken off work so I can whip the house into shape. It really is a 2-3 day job, but I’ll do what I can.

I have made myself a list (list making is also WAY out of character for me) and I am tackling that list one room at a time. When I complete a room, I will sit down for an hour and write (or write until my creativity dries up) and then I will clean another room.

One thing I’m really looking forward to is my beer. That’s right, I have beer to get me through the day. Haha. I get to drink beer while you sad little people have to wait until tonight. There’s a good chance I might be teetering by the time you actually get home to pop open your first bottle. Let me say it again, Haha. Yeah, I’m rubbing it in, it’s what I do.

I’m getting back to cleaning my dining room. My new BFF, Dyson, is providing fantastic company. He was worth every penny I dished out for him. I should pay for my friends more often…

spring cleaning

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Today, Mel-O-Drama becomes Mel-O-Maid. Like my outfit?


It’s very rare that I get sick of the house. Seriously, as I explained before, I can ignore just about everything. Dishes in the sink, clothes on the floor, hairballs the size of goats…you name it, I’ve ignored it.

But, once or twice a year, the cleaning bug hits me. And today, I’m feverish with the need to clean. So, I’ve taken off work so I can whip the house into shape. It really is a 2-3 day job, but I’ll do what I can.

I have made myself a list (list making is also WAY out of character for me) and I am tackling that list one room at a time. When I complete a room, I will sit down for an hour and write (or write until my creativity dries up) and then I will clean another room.

One thing I’m really looking forward to is my beer. That’s right, I have beer to get me through the day. Haha. I get to drink beer while you sad little people have to wait until tonight. There’s a good chance I might be teetering by the time you actually get home to pop open your first bottle. Let me say it again, Haha. Yeah, I’m rubbing it in, it’s what I do.

I’m getting back to cleaning my dining room. My new BFF, Dyson, is providing fantastic company. He was worth every penny I dished out for him. I should pay for my friends more often…

my rep and my weekend in tupelo

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Apparently, I’ve gotten myself a reputation. Not only am I so very domestic, but I can also out drink you while wearing my French Maid costume. I’m not even gonna tell ya what I can do with that feather duster…

So this past weekend was spent in Tupelo, MS for soccer District tournament. Now, I know some people aren’t big fans of Tupelo…(see question and answer #5) but I’m here to tell you there are worse places on earth. (Pine Bluff, AR comes to mind…)

There may be a few bad things you can say about Tupelo (as a whole, the city really is void of much character) but they have one thing in their favor–they love their soccer. And it was so nice to attend a well organized event with good parking, a nice concession area, nice restrooms, and plenty of soccer fields and places for fans.

We had an 8:00 a.m. game both mornings. (God, help me, but I had to be up at 5:00 both days…) On Saturday we arrived and the team started to warm up while we parents stood around drinking (slugging) our coffee and taking in our surroundings. We noticed three big Xs dividing the fan areas so we asked what they were for. Apparently, the fans for each team were to pick a side and stay there–to avoid any fights. They’ve had a history of out of control parents at District before and so they had field marshals posted at each field to make sure the rules were adheared to.

Um, fights? Over 9 year old soccer?

We laughed and rolled our eyes. Sheesh. Could you imagine being like that over 9 year old soccer? Some people just need help.

And then, on Sunday at our 8:00 a.m. game, I finally realized exactly why those Xs were there…and I had to stop myself from becoming one of those parents. (and probably becoming one of those jailbird parents…)

There was a Big Man with an accent (I think it was British, but I really couldn’t tell because of all the blood rushing in my ears) who did a lot of yelling at the other team from the sidelines. Enough yelling that I actually wondered if maybe he wasn’t the 2nd coach and just positioned on the fan side to help out. He was obnoxious, but mostly I could ignore him.

I pretty much drowned out his voice and just stuck to my own way of supporting–with generally positive cheers and the occasional, RUN! But nothing out of the ordinary. But when our coach questioned a call and wondered whether it was our ball or not, Mr. Big Man yelled “We’d like for you to keep playing for us, but really, it’s our ball this time.” I said something like “Nice. Very nice. I bet that made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.”

And I let it go, because I wasn’t gonna be THAT parent.

I wish I hadn’t. I found out later that he’d been yelling things like, “Don’t let that fat kid beat you.” “What a weak kick, how did your team make it to District?” Blah blah.

If I had heard that, I’d have gone for his throat. Probably it was a blessing that I’m so good at ignoring assholes and completely tuned him out. What is wrong with people? I’ll never understand the idiots of this world.

my rep and my weekend in tupelo

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Apparently, I’ve gotten myself a reputation. Not only am I so very domestic, but I can also out drink you while wearing my French Maid costume. I’m not even gonna tell ya what I can do with that feather duster…

So this past weekend was spent in Tupelo, MS for soccer District tournament. Now, I know some people aren’t big fans of Tupelo…(see question and answer #5) but I’m here to tell you there are worse places on earth. (Pine Bluff, AR comes to mind…)

There may be a few bad things you can say about Tupelo (as a whole, the city really is void of much character) but they have one thing in their favor–they love their soccer. And it was so nice to attend a well organized event with good parking, a nice concession area, nice restrooms, and plenty of soccer fields and places for fans.

We had an 8:00 a.m. game both mornings. (God, help me, but I had to be up at 5:00 both days…) On Saturday we arrived and the team started to warm up while we parents stood around drinking (slugging) our coffee and taking in our surroundings. We noticed three big Xs dividing the fan areas so we asked what they were for. Apparently, the fans for each team were to pick a side and stay there–to avoid any fights. They’ve had a history of out of control parents at District before and so they had field marshals posted at each field to make sure the rules were adheared to.

Um, fights? Over 9 year old soccer?

We laughed and rolled our eyes. Sheesh. Could you imagine being like that over 9 year old soccer? Some people just need help.

And then, on Sunday at our 8:00 a.m. game, I finally realized exactly why those Xs were there…and I had to stop myself from becoming one of those parents. (and probably becoming one of those jailbird parents…)

There was a Big Man with an accent (I think it was British, but I really couldn’t tell because of all the blood rushing in my ears) who did a lot of yelling at the other team from the sidelines. Enough yelling that I actually wondered if maybe he wasn’t the 2nd coach and just positioned on the fan side to help out. He was obnoxious, but mostly I could ignore him.

I pretty much drowned out his voice and just stuck to my own way of supporting–with generally positive cheers and the occasional, RUN! But nothing out of the ordinary. But when our coach questioned a call and wondered whether it was our ball or not, Mr. Big Man yelled “We’d like for you to keep playing for us, but really, it’s our ball this time.” I said something like “Nice. Very nice. I bet that made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.”

And I let it go, because I wasn’t gonna be THAT parent.

I wish I hadn’t. I found out later that he’d been yelling things like, “Don’t let that fat kid beat you.” “What a weak kick, how did your team make it to District?” Blah blah.

If I had heard that, I’d have gone for his throat. Probably it was a blessing that I’m so good at ignoring assholes and completely tuned him out. What is wrong with people? I’ll never understand the idiots of this world.

how very domestic, indeed.

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Main Entry: do·mes·tic
Function: adjective
Etymology: Middle English, from Middle French domestique, from Latin domesticus, from domus
1 a : living near or about human habitations b : TAME, DOMESTICATEDdomestic cat>
2 : of, relating to, or originating within a country and especially one’s own country
3 : of or relating to the household or the family
4 : devoted to home duties and pleasures domestic>
5 : INDIGENOUS
– do·mes·ti·cal·ly /-ti-k(&-)lE/ adverb

Anyone who knows me, knows I’m anything but domestic. Basically, the only way I can get myself to clean my house is to have people over. And even then, the company I’ve invited has to include folks I don’t know very well–because let’s face it, if you know me, then you know how I live.

I’ve determined that in a past life, I must’ve been a frat boy. I can leave dishes in the sink for days. I don’t even see the empty beer bottles and coke cans and pizza boxes strewn about the counter. And when I get undressed, I’ll throw the clothes in the hamper if I’m standing in front of it when I disrobe. Otherwise, they land where they land.

Motherhood has helped me overcome my domesticated issues somewhat. I’m better about the dishes…sorta. Actually, my theory is I usually cook so someone else can clean. And a few days later when nobody has picked up on my theory, I break down and unload and load the diswasher. (BTW–the dishwasher always has dishes in it…it’s just a cabinet that happens to clean.)

So, when Killer called me domesticated in the comments of my last post, I kinda took offense. Me? Domesticated? Hardly.

But, I think he might be onto something.

What has changed me, you ask?

My new Dyson DC17 Animal

Yes, a vacuum cleaner may have just changed my life.

First a little history. We have 2 dogs and 2 cats. All of them are hairy little bastards and shed constantly. Well, in the past 4 years, we’ve gone through 3 vacuums. Too much hair–not enough suction.

But not anymore thanks to this bad boy. That Dyson is my hero. As a matter of fact, my friend Andrea suggested that I name a hero in one of my books Dyson…consider it done.

This little monster works better than anything I’ve ever seen. My only complaint is that it’s a little difficult to learn how to put some of the pieces together, but then my rocket science degree didn’t cover brilliant vacuum design.

If ever you can’t find me…just look for me in the House of Dyson. I’ll be the one up front worshipping at its altar.

how very domestic, indeed.

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Main Entry: do·mes·tic
Function: adjective
Etymology: Middle English, from Middle French domestique, from Latin domesticus, from domus
1 a : living near or about human habitations b : TAME, DOMESTICATEDdomestic cat>
2 : of, relating to, or originating within a country and especially one’s own country
3 : of or relating to the household or the family
4 : devoted to home duties and pleasures domestic>
5 : INDIGENOUS
– do·mes·ti·cal·ly /-ti-k(&-)lE/ adverb

Anyone who knows me, knows I’m anything but domestic. Basically, the only way I can get myself to clean my house is to have people over. And even then, the company I’ve invited has to include folks I don’t know very well–because let’s face it, if you know me, then you know how I live.

I’ve determined that in a past life, I must’ve been a frat boy. I can leave dishes in the sink for days. I don’t even see the empty beer bottles and coke cans and pizza boxes strewn about the counter. And when I get undressed, I’ll throw the clothes in the hamper if I’m standing in front of it when I disrobe. Otherwise, they land where they land.

Motherhood has helped me overcome my domesticated issues somewhat. I’m better about the dishes…sorta. Actually, my theory is I usually cook so someone else can clean. And a few days later when nobody has picked up on my theory, I break down and unload and load the diswasher. (BTW–the dishwasher always has dishes in it…it’s just a cabinet that happens to clean.)

So, when Killer called me domesticated in the comments of my last post, I kinda took offense. Me? Domesticated? Hardly.

But, I think he might be onto something.

What has changed me, you ask?

My new Dyson DC17 Animal

Yes, a vacuum cleaner may have just changed my life.

First a little history. We have 2 dogs and 2 cats. All of them are hairy little bastards and shed constantly. Well, in the past 4 years, we’ve gone through 3 vacuums. Too much hair–not enough suction.

But not anymore thanks to this bad boy. That Dyson is my hero. As a matter of fact, my friend Andrea suggested that I name a hero in one of my books Dyson…consider it done.

This little monster works better than anything I’ve ever seen. My only complaint is that it’s a little difficult to learn how to put some of the pieces together, but then my rocket science degree didn’t cover brilliant vacuum design.

If ever you can’t find me…just look for me in the House of Dyson. I’ll be the one up front worshipping at its altar.

the evil wizard does exist!

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Put the camera away, Fishdog.

Dad, Mom’s getting pissed. Put the camera away.

Ack! Birds!

I understand there is some video available of said Pelham incident. But if I have anything to do with it, that video will never see the light of day…or the light of Fishdog’s blog.

edited to add: apparently photobucket is having some technical difficulties with its slideshows. Hopefully, it’ll be working by tomorrow. If not, I’ll post a link to the pics with their captions. 🙂

the evil wizard does exist!

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Put the camera away, Fishdog.

Dad, Mom’s getting pissed. Put the camera away.

Ack! Birds!

I understand there is some video available of said Pelham incident. But if I have anything to do with it, that video will never see the light of day…or the light of Fishdog’s blog.

edited to add: apparently photobucket is having some technical difficulties with its slideshows. Hopefully, it’ll be working by tomorrow. If not, I’ll post a link to the pics with their captions. 🙂