Donna Summer died yesterday, taking a little piece of my sparkle with her. She was the inspiration behind my first pair of heels when I was a kid…Hot Pink Candies…
Man I wish I still had those shoes…
In happy fun time news, my Tree Frog graduates from High School tomorrow night. I’m so very proud of you son…
It’s weird, not blogging.
You know that saying when it rains, it pours? I swear it’s like someone opened Pandora’s box of ugliness over the past week or so and all I have to protect me from the rain is a shredded umbrella.
Anyway, I was deleting some anonymous mean-girl type comments on my blog this morning (this is becoming a very frustrating habit. I love how being “anonymous” gives people balls on the internet) when I ran across an entry from 2006 that made me smile…
So I share that smile with you:
8 year old logic
So, I was “coaching” my youngest son’s soccer team last night. And by “coaching” I mean I was standing in front of the bench yelling “Follow your kicks! Attack the ball! What are you waiting on, an invitation?” Yes, I’m a helluva coach.
In my defense, I did refuse to coach anymore because it’s getting to the point where you have know the rules. And I don’t know diddly about soccer. I should. I’ve given birth to 2 soccer players who have both been playing since they were 3 years old. But no. The soccer rules and I have not become one in the universe. But, I’m coaching because fishdog signed up to coach both boys. Which would be fantastic if the boys didn’t play at the same time. And since they have been playing at the same time, I’ve been “choosing” the lesser of two evils by coaching the 8 year olds. And by “choosing” I mean, not having a choice at all.
Where was I? Oh yes. “Coaching” soccer.
My son, Rader, is very determined and competitive. Soccer is a team sport and we (I say we because if I HAVE to coach the games, I should get some credit) try very hard to make the kids understand that. But last night, the kids didn’t understand anything. It was more like kickball than soccer. Herding snails would’ve been easier.
Rader decided he was Superman Soccer last night and took it upon himself to win the game. Forget the team. He didn’t need no stinkin’ team. He was Rader the Fearless. He could do it. And he did score our only two goals. (we’re not going to mention how many goals the other guys scored) But he also managed to wind up bashed around quite a bit. He took one hit to the nards that had him sitting for a while. I thought for sure he’d be talking in a higher octave for a day or two.
“Rader, what’s the deal? Have you forgotten you have 3 other teammates out there? They can help you if you let them.”
He sighed and did a semi-roll of the eyes. “Mom. It’s obvious they don’t want it bad enough. Besides, you can only help those who help themselves.”
Can’t argue with that logic, I guess.
In other smiley news, Happy Birthday to my best male friend, a man I consider a brother, and Ian’s godfather…Nick-O-Lust. I love you man…I miss your vodka inspired 20 minute messages and I can’t wait to hug you again when you visit in May. xoxo
I’m feeling a little nostalgic today, so I thought I’d repost one of my favorite Rader stories. This is from 2006:
My 8 year old had a really, really, really bad day at school a couple of weeks ago.
It was so bad, he came home and told me about it. He told me everything–except for the part where he was extremely rude to the assistant teacher. He absolutely refused to do anything she told him and apparently had a couple of ugly things to say to her in the process.
All this happened on a Friday. On Monday, I get a note filling in the missing pieces of the story. We do the “do you know what you did wrong?” talk and he tells me he’d just had a really bad day and took it out on Mrs. G.
I said, “Well, you should draw her a picture and tell her you’re sorry.”
So he did. I didn’t see the finished picture, but I saw him writing the note to Mrs. G. He told me that afternoon that Mrs. G. really liked his picture and that was that.
Until this morning when I ran into Mrs. G…
Mrs. G: Did you see the picture he drew me?
Me: No. Should I have?
Mrs. G: Laughing Oh Lord, yes.
Me: Worried now. Um. Why?
Mrs. G: Well, (snicker, snort) he drew me a picture of a donkey.
Me: gasp. this didn’t start off promising.Mrs. G: At the donkey’s head, he wrote my name and drew an arrow. “This is you.”
Me: grimacing
Mrs. G: And at the rear end he wrote, “And this is what I’ve been.”
Well, that did it. I started laughing and couldn’t stop.
Me: Well, I guess he can recognize ass-like behavior afterall.
Mrs. G. went on to say that it was by far the best note of apology she’s ever received.
I should say so.
Because I’m feeling lazy and also because I like this story, I think I’ll repost it here for your reading pleasure… 
Kissing can be good (very good), bad (very bad), and sometimes it can be downright ugly. And yes, even very ugly.
This is a story about a downright (very) ugly kisser. The names have been changed to protect the innocent.
I was in 8th grade and in love with a boy named Conan*. Conan was everything I thought I wanted in a boy. He was funny, handsome, tall, athletic and did I mention handsome? I wanted me some Conan like I wanted the newest pair of Gloria Vanderbilt jeans.
A mutual friend of ours was having a party and it was going to be my first boy-girl party. (shut up. things were different back then.) Unfortunately, my mother decided to chaperone said party as well, but that’s a different part of this story and one that will remain locked in the vault.
That night, I decided to try to look like a girl. I wore my hair down (it was always in a hat or a ponytail), put on makeup (according to mom my eyes looked like spiders from an Alfred Hitchcock movie) and even wore a shirt without a sports logo on it. See? I could totally be a girl.
Conan noticed me and we flirted and slow-danced all night. Finally, the moment had come and it was time for Conan to kiss me. (I believe it was a Lionel Richie song that was playing)
He didn’t so much kiss me as he did eat my face.
And his tongue? It wasn’t so much as touching mine as it was filling my mouth. I’m pretty sure I was chewing on it, in hopes to survive without choking to death.
It was the biggest let down ever. A dude with so much potential, a dude I had crushed on for several months, a dude who couldn’t kiss worth a damn.
I was shocked and of course, completely disappointed. But Conan was everything I wanted except for the kissing part. Maybe I could help him improve? I tried that night several times but unfortunately, his tongue kept getting bigger. I found myself wondering how he kept that thing inside his mouth.
So here’s my question, can a bad kisser be retrained? Or do two bad kissers just wind up together because nobody else wants them?
*not O’ Brien 🙂
I’m sad. Former Warrant front man Jani Lane was found dead in his LA Hotel. (I know, slightly cliche, but whatever) I was a big fan of the hair bands back in the day and saw Warrant live 3 times.
Ah. Those were the days of bangs with their own zip code, short skirts, ripped pants, and looooooooong jackets (with shoulder pads, of course). RIP Jani Lane. Thanks for the memories. 
In other news, El Jefe and I are thinking about going to dig for diamonds this weekend. Or maybe take in a wax museum. Wax museums creep me out so that should be interesting if we decide to go…. if you don’t hear from me on Monday, you’ll know they came alive and made me one of their own…
Saturday afternoon, I popped over to fishdog’s house to pick up the kids. He wanted to show me he’d cleaned out the storage area (where he had very nicely boxed up all my romance novels in one box). We popped below the house to have a looksy. It was very neat and tidy. Who knew?
So I woke this morning with TOTAL ECLIPSE OF THE HEART playing in my head. I swear, my brain likes to mess with me. It made me dream freaky crap last night and then it gave me the earworm from hell.
Thanks, brain. You are awesome.
I always think of the summer before 9th grade when I hear that song. We were at church camp (true story!) and I had a crush on a boy named Darryl. (Not his brother Larry or his other brother Darryl.) Darryl was an older boy… he was going to be a junior to my freshman. He had blond hair, blue eyes and he wore a blue bandana tied around his head. He was just dreamy in a mid 80s sort of way.
After lights out, our camp counselors would always sneak off to the lake to get baked commune with nature, and we always snuck out to the rec area to make out play ping pong. Darryl kissed me played ping pong with me that night while Bonnie Tyler wailed about her heart’s total eclipse.
When church camp was over, I never heard from Darryl again. He was a ping pong playa and my heart was eclipsed. Totally.
Maybe I should have set my eyes on his other brother Darryl after all…
And for fun, here’s the Literal Video Version of Total Eclipse of the Heart…
Embedding is disabled. If you haven’t seen it, I highly recommend clicking the link and watching. Funny stuff right there.
My statcounter has been really interesting lately. A fairly new reader from Arkansas has been digging through my archives on a weekly basis. I’m glad someone is enjoying my blog so much they want to read my archives! Of course, seeing all the links this person clicked made me wanna dig through them again, too.
Here are some of my favorite blogs that I’ve found so far:
September 2005
A Rader Blog: If it’s green; it matches
An Ian Blog: Laugh or cry?
An Everybody Blog: On Farts and Billy Ray Cyrus
October 2005:
HAPPY HALLOWEEN!
Looking for Laughter
How fun it was to go back through some of my older posts. Life has changed a lot since then, but the happy memories are fresh again. Thanks for the reminder!
Maybe I’ll post some random links to some archived blogs each week. I’m especially enjoying how different the kids look!
Happy Friday! I’ve got a big weekend planned with just the boys. Yardwork, movies, Hog Game, and lots of hanging out and I’m sure laughter. Because they do make me laugh all the time.
Random pics of the day:
I figured since I was digging up the past today, I’d show you guys some pics I took in 2006. These are from my neighborhood in Oxford on a brisk fall morning.
Y’all have a fabulous weekend!
(ETA: not sure if the video embedding is working. Here’s the direct link.)
This is when I fell in love with Madonna…and Matthew Modine. Have you ever seen the movie Vision Quest? I heart it with the love of 1000 cupids. If you haven’t seen it…put it on your RETRO MUST SEE list. (note to self…buy copy of movie to watch over and over and over)
I heard CRAZY FOR YOU on the radio this morning and knew I had to blog about it. Music is a very powerful 
thing and can take you back to a moment in time faster than anything else (except for maybe scent…but that’s another blog!) Every time I hear this song I’m transported back to the mid-80s, my first crush, and listening to this song over and over and over again on my TURNTABLE. (shut your mouth. I had a cassette player, but it was easier to be a repeat offender when you played your records.)
Even though I got my heart broken eventually, this song still brings a rush of all the good feelings that comes with falling for someone. And I think I’ll listen to it all day, because that rush is the best high ever.
What are the songs that can take you back?
Bitchin' Fiction: Musings by author Melissa McKenzie / Melissa Francis 
