I feel sorry about my thighs…

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Posted on : 21-Mar-2017 | By : Amber | In : miscellaneous garbage, Rambling rambles

Ever have one of those days when you knew you needed to write but no words were applying for the position?

Yeah. That’s been me for – I lost count.

It would probably be easier if I had an actual exciting life, but that’s not a thing that I have. I LIKE my life, but I don’t know that anyone else finds the fact that in one week I got my dryer, dishwasher, AND stand mixer fixed as outstanding as I did. (Seriously, though, it’s so cool. It was like Christmas except it was March and I didn’t have to buy presents for anyone else, which kind of made it even better. Don’t judge me.)

I got my political ya-yas out writing a thing for unclesamsmisguidedchildren.com – you can read it if you want – and now I’m just staring at my own neglected blog going “but…but…yeah, I got nothing.” Which isn’t really true, because I do stuff ALL DAY LONG, but I don’t know that it’s interesting to anyone but me, and it doesn’t have to be, but I dunno that anyone is going to read about my stand mixer revival or the ghetto clothesline week I spent while the part for my dryer was on order, hanging clothes on my front porch and all over my dining room. I hung my underwear inside, I’m not a complete degenerate. Ain’t nobody wanna see that.

And yes, I know that only Faulkner can make a run-on sentence work. Fight me.

Oh! I got back in the gym. Yeah, I wasn’t really excited about it either, especially when I started trying to walk the day after leg day. I’m pretty sure someone lowered the toilet six inches, too. But, I do have to admit that I feel better about being me when I’m at least doing something there. It’s not pretty, and there’s still more of me than I’d like there to be, but I’m working on it. Now that it’s warming up and I can get back out hiking with the dog (I call it hiking, really it’s just walking, but it’s at the nature park so I call it hiking and you can’t stop me), I’ll feel even better. And Archer won’t be trying to eat my house. He’s 7 now, you’d think he’d slow down. I don’t even think he sleeps.

So, hopefully, I’ll be doing a few things this spring and summer – redecorating youngest’s room, painting the living room and redoing the floor – that might at least make for some pretty pictures, if not interesting stories of the epic fails I’m pretty sure are gonna happen. This is me, after all. In the meantime, here are a few links to some things I’ve enjoyed lately, and maybe you will, too.  Or not.  Embrace the possibilities.

My article at Unclesamesmisguidedchildren.com. Yes, it’s a shameless plug. No, I do not care.

My youngest’s Instagram, where she puts photography and YouTube, where she posts both original music and covers

My eldest’s Fitness and and Owl Pinterest boards, because – owls. Duh. And fitness.

Final thoughts:  If you’ve hacked me off, chances are you’ve already made your way into my novel.  Sorry not sorry.6a00d8341c5da453ef01156f30e5c7970b-800wi

New Year, New…wha?

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Posted on : 12-Jan-2015 | By : Amber | In : miscellaneous garbage, Rambling rambles, Uncategorized

I know you’ve heard it.  The “new year, new me” stuff that everyone starts spouting come January 1st. You know what? I’m not going to do that, because, really? I’m not at all interested in being a new me. I’ve worked really hard to get the me I have now – why would I want to chuck that all out the window and start over again?? Seems like throwing effort after foolishness, if you ask me.

I ain’t about that life.

Does that mean there aren’t some things I want to change, or do better? Heck no! But I don’t think it’s because I want a new me – it’s because I like the road I’m on, and want to continue to go down it. I hope that makes sense. If it doesn’t, well, I don’t know what to tell ya.

This year, I intend to continue writing. Writing, and writing, and writing, and I’m not shying away from things that might be “offensive” to some.  Truth is truth, and while I can do my best to speak it in love, and I do, I won’t water it down because someone doesn’t want to hear it.

I intend to continue being a gym rat. If you haven’t been in touch with me this past year, you might have just spit your drink all over your screen.  Have your laugh, wipe off your monitor, but it’s true. I don’t miss workouts. I get CRANKY if I think I might. I lift heavy. I sweat. Who am I??

I intend to keep decluttering my home and my life. The past few months have seen me tossing the debris, physical and emotional,  that comes with holding on too much and looking backwards, not forwards. I ain’t about THAT life any more, either, and it feels pretty darn good. I want more of it.

So – for me, the “new year, new me” isn’t something I’m even remotely interested in chasing. I think I’ll just keep on being the me I’ve been becoming for 46 years.  I kind of like her.

 

Same me, and I'm ok with that.

Same me, and I’m ok with that.

I just want to smell nice, is that too much to ask???

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Posted on : 23-Mar-2012 | By : Amber | In : Dogs, miscellaneous garbage, Rambling rambles

I’m gonna warn y’all now, I’ve got strep throat and I’ve taken a LOT of meds, so I dunno how much sense this is gonna make. Not that it usually makes much sense any way, so, really, there’s no change.

As some of you know, we lost our old lady dog in January. The girls and I and Archer felt the loss a lot, and we decided that we needed to have another dog. Patrick did not decide this. We decided it for him, and he generously decided not to make too much of a fuss, because I know where he lives and he has to go to sleep sometime.

So, we looked around at the rescues, and found:

Stormie and the Girl Child

Stormie and The Girl Child

The dog, not the girl.  I’ve had the girl for almost 17 years.  She’s not available for adoption, unless you’re going to put her through college, then we might talk.

This is Stormageddon (points if you get the reference). She was found with her sisters in the woods, and was the only pup left at the rescue when we got there, and we took a chance on her even though she was quite shy (don’t ever do that, I’m a professional), and I’m so glad we did. She’s come all the way out of her shell, is sharp as a tack and just so much fun, even though she’s chewing through things she shouldn’t.

Archer isn’t sure what to think of her, but as long as she leaves his tennis ball alone, she can stay.

So, there’s the new family member, which has been fun, and the usual debris of life, which has been not so much fun but hasn’t been terrible.

The trip to the dentist to find out I’d cracked two fillings and now needed two crowns I could have done without, since my dental insurance doesn’t cover crowns, and they seem to be the most expensive things on the planet, right up there with gasoline and platinum.

There is a lot of interesting stuff coming up, though.  A dear friend is coming to town next month, and since she lives in California, and, well, I don’t, the chances to get to meet face to face are very, very few.  Because, you know, I’m not independently wealthy.  Or even dependently wealthy. I’m really looking forward to that, and I hope she doesn’t decide that I’m just too weird for face time. She’s a Southern girl, though, like me, so she doesn’t scare easily.

I’ve got a truckload of seeds for my garden, and I’m excited about that, even though I’ll probably kill them all before they germinate because my thumb is THAT black.  I manage to grow mold in the bathroom, and that’s about it.  I keep hoping, though, I keep hoping.  For the garden, not the mold.

I also got some knitting needles and managed to make a swatch that looked almost, but not quite, entirely unlike a scarf.  However, since I didn’t end up knitting my fingers into the weave, I’ll call it a win. I can crochet, I should be able to do this, dang it!

I still hate my neighbors. I take that back. I don’t know them enough to like or dislike them, but I surely do hate their behavior. One of these nights I’m just gonna snap, and I have a tendency to go to pieces so fast people get hit with shrapnel, and so I don’t know how that’s going to turn out. I figure I’ll end up turning the garden hose on them.  Maybe the pressure washer.

And – it just not occurred to me that the title of this post makes it seem like I’m smelly, and I’m not, but I was shopping for perfume earlier and was getting really down at all the kinds I can’t wear. I don’t do florals, I don’t want to smell like food, and I detest that sharp chemical smell that seems to be a mainstay in all couture fragrances. I do get a lot of things from Black Phoenix Alchemy Lab, which is delicious and decadent and all sorts of lovely “d” words. I’m just incapable of fragrance monogamy. Currently I love Anne Bonney, Hellcat and Sin. They’re all sweet and spicy and sensual. Go take a gander at BPAL and see what they have to offer.  It’s pretty impressive.

I’ve also been spending time on Twitter, partly because interesting people there will talk to me, and partly because I only have to come up with 140 characters at a time and even my brain can do that.  If you’re on Twitter, follow me there, and follow some of the folks there who make me smile, and laugh, and think:

 

@BarbFerrer, because she’s smart and funny and snarky and a heck of a writer.

@Omundson, because, well, HE’S smart and funny and snarky and a heck of an actor.

@Cincoflex, because she’s brilliant in so, so many ways.

@bridgettamanda because she’s a Girl Raised in the South and I adore her.

@TheBloggess because she’s The Bloggess!

 

So, I’ve actually managed to bore you to tears, and I’m going to take yet more meds and go to bed.  What? You expected something else? It’s like you don’t even know me.

 

 

Lightly grilled weasel. On a bun.

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Posted on : 25-Nov-2011 | By : Amber | In : Dogs, exercise, miscellaneous garbage, Rambling rambles

I decided that my title doesn’t need to have anything to do with the post. I find that decision takes a lot of stress off of me. It’s a win/win, really.

So, it’s pretty obvious that I won’t be able to finish my book by the end of NaNoWriMo. However, I’m writing regularly, I’m not UNhappy with what’s making its way onto the page, AND I’m farther along in the story than I’ve ever been before. I’m counting it a win. And I’m continuing to write. Fairly pleased about that.

Thanksgiving was – calm. Peaceful, even. Just myself, Patrick, the girls and my parents. Of course, despite the fact that there were only 6 people at the table, there was an 18lb turkey, a ham, and four pies. Four.

I ate all the food. Ever. I don’t think I’ll need to eat until, say, 2014 at the earliest. I even had to do the dreaded “pop the button” on my jeans. I’m not proud, but there it is. We’re a southern family – we cook way too much for these things.

I’ll work some of it off tomorrow, since Archer boy is going to hang with the sheep for an hour or so. Ok, so he’s the one that’s going to be running around with the sheep, but I have to take him there. That counts for something, I believe. It should, anyway. That’s what I’m going with. Dunno what I’m going to do when it’s time to start him on cattle.

Here’s a picture of Archer. Just because.

Archer with the ever-present tennis ball

Rhiannon wanted a ukulele for her birthday. I blame Amanda Palmer. She got one, though, and now Brianna wants one, because darn it if they aren’t the cutest, most fun little instruments ever. R immediately set out to learn “Somewhere Over the Rainbow”, which she did in about 15 minutes, and I found you just can’t help but smile when I hear it. 10 year old, playing the ukulele and singing “Somewhere Over the Rainbow”. I dare you to have a bad day afterwards. Dare. You.

I’ve had the urge to write something political, but this just isn’t the forum for it. I KNOW it’s my blog, and I can write whatever the heck I want, but I just don’t want this one to be the “heavy” one. Of course, it’s the only one I have, so I’ve either got to write it here, start another blog for what might be one entry that nobody reads, or write it down in my personal journal and call it all good. We’ll see what happens. Probably if I lie down long enough the urge will go away. That’s what usually happens to my urge to do housework. Or exercise.

This is what I really want to be doing, but it’s closed today. The range, not my man. Yeah, that all came out kinda wrong, but take it as it is.

Patrick at the range. Because hot guys with weapons are even hotter.

I did NOT participate in the Black Friday madness. Not only am I planning to shop at local small businesses as much as I can for Christmas gifts, I don’t want to encourage a practice that has retail workers giving up time with their families because they have to work at obnoxious hours. Family time is too precious for that, especially in families where both parents must work. Nope. Not gonna do it.

And, because I spent last Thanksgiving with this guy and his family as well as my own, here is M. I miss this little booger so much it hurts. I miss his family so much it hurts. *sigh*

Sweetest baby boy ever. Ever ever ever.

Wow. I stink at this whole updating regularly thing.

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Posted on : 28-Oct-2011 | By : Amber | In : Dogs, homeschooling, miscellaneous garbage, Rambling rambles, Uncategorized

I’ll try to make the post worth your while though. You might want to pour a drink. I find it helps in dealing with me.

So I’ve been TRYING to get into the whole “homeschooling for a new year” thing since the end of August, and to be honest, I still feel like I’m swimming upstream. Wearing ankle weights. And a sweater.

We’re managing, but I haven’t managed to attain that zen attitude I keep hoping for. Maybe I’m just not a zen sort of person. Maybe it’s because my man is sitting next to me yelling at Texas in the World Series. Maybe I’m the one that needs that drink. Stop judging me.

You’d think, with Halloween so soon upon us (wow, that sounded posh), that I’d be more excited. Don’t get me wrong. I’m excited. I’ve invested so much time making sure that my daughters truly appreciate the macabre and bizarre that I could miss the actual donning of the costumes/sugar coma and still enjoy the moment. Thing is – well, to be honest I dunno what the thing is. I think I’m just in one of those weird places I get when the days get shorter and P. yells at professional athletes. I need to spend more time with Archer the Wonder Dog. That makes me, if not zen, then at least not bitey and snarly. And I cook more.

Archer the Wonder Dog

My pup makes me happy. Handsome boy, isn\’t he?

I HAVE been writing, which is a good thing, and I’ve been doing it the old fashioned way. No, not stylus and wax, I’m not that old. Shut up. Fountain pen and paper. This has been good for my creative process, and for my manicure, because I’m sort of a beast at the keyboard. I type violently. I don’t know what this says about me. However, I am discovering that I can still type with nails! I am discovering this right now. This instant. It pleases me.

Writing this way must be good for my creative process, because I’m having very vivid dreams, that I actually remember, and my characters are starting to stand up for themselves and tell me what they’re really thinking, and I’m pretty sure that means I’m becoming more in touch with my creative side. Or more insane. Either/or, really.

I am glad that cooler weather is here, because sweating when you’re just walking to the car is just not on, and my pups really, really, really don’t like the heat. Of course, Ceili the Elder Dog doesn’t like the cold, either. She does like raw chicken, so there is something left in the world that makes her happy. Cooler weather also means, maybe, Archer will get to play with the sheep some more, and that will make him happy. And tired.

It will also give Bri more of a chance to work on her action photography, and Rori a chance to, well, be a kid on a farm for a few hours. There could be baby ducks. There will at least be eggs, and she’s got a good imagination.

If Texas loses tonight I’m going to have to buy a pound of taffy and force feed it to Patrick. I don’t know how much longer I can take the yelling at the television without doing something suddenly and all over the place.

I have a short fuse. Deal with it. Or don’t, really. It’s all ok.

Yeah, I know, but my life is a time suck – don’t judge me!

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Posted on : 12-Feb-2011 | By : Amber | In : miscellaneous garbage, Rambling rambles, zombies

I realize I need to update this thing more often. I kinda stink at things like that, so if you’re looking for me to entertain/enlighten/enrage you on a daily basis, that probably isn’t going to happen, unless you want to pay me to do so, and then I might think about it. Maybe.

The thing is, despite being home most of the time, I never seem to have the time available to update as often as I want to or think I should. I’d offer a reason, but I really don’t have one, and I’m not good at excuses, since they all come out something like “I would have updated but I had to attend an emergency meeting of ‘Citizens Against Zombie Attack’ because we’re preparing for the upcoming zombie apocalypse”. Which might or might not be the truth. Most people tend to disbelieve me when I tell the truth, funnily enough, so I tend to just stay silent and glare. I save lies for my writing.

However, because I’m made of awesome (shut up, I could be, in some cultures), I’m going to attempt to update more than I have been lately, which shouldn’t be too hard, really. The fact of the matter is I’m basically boring and a bit unhinged, so I haven’t wanted to wear anybody out with my ramblings and wordy insanity.

Also, and this is off the subject but not really, what IS it about my posts that invites hundreds of comments from Russian escort services and Canadian drug sellers? Do I have something secret written in Cyrillic, that maybe I wrote in my sleep or something? Am I moonlighting as a purveyor of purloined pharmaceuticals? Maybe I used the word “perv” too much. All I know is I wish they’d quit leaving those comments, because they make me feel dirty, and not in a good way.

Before you leave, you should go to my friend J’s blog; she’s a fantastic writer, and you won’t regret the time you spend there. Plus, she’s a lot more interesting than I am, and she updates more. J’s blog; tell your friends.

*Cough, hack*

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Posted on : 07-Dec-2010 | By : Amber | In : miscellaneous garbage, Rambling rambles

Yeah, so I should have updated this a lot sooner, but I’ve had ebola the flu, so if you’ve got a problem with it you should come over here and let me cough on you so you can share my pain. Deal with it.

I’m TRYING to get into the Christmas spirit, but as you can imagine, the plague cholera the flu tends to put a damper on the holiday mood, as you can imagine. Or don’t imagine. I’m not sure I care at this point.

There is a tree. There are lights on the tree. My line of advent calendar boxes are strung between the living room and the dining room. There is, however, no candy in the boxes yet. Don’t judge me; have I mentioned I’ve got typhoid fever the flu?

There is also a bottle of Dewer’s, which everyone keeps telling me will help make me feel better, but all it does really is make me sleepy. That might be the reason my dude keeps making toddies for me to drink, now that I think about it, because if I’m asleep I’m not complaining about how crummy I feel and making demands for hot tea and chocolate. I just thought he was trying to take advantage of me.

Halloween Turns Us Into Pervs and Other Things…

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Posted on : 06-Nov-2010 | By : Amber | In : miscellaneous garbage

My friend and I were doing the candy thing on Halloween, because she’s made of win like that, and I noticed that Halloween turns us into total pervs, offering candy to strange children with the blessing of their parents. I should be more surprised than I am.

“Hey, I’ve got candy, too! Come over here!” Yeah, that’s not pervvy at all.

I might also mention that this was just days after my friend spent a week in Hades being a bone marrow donor for a complete stranger. Did I mention that she’s made of win??

If this were a political blog, I could go into a big, long discourse about the recent election, but it’s not, so I won’t. Don’t judge me.

On a personal front, I’ve decided that I’m hooked on the new Hawaii Five-0 reboot, which I’m renaming “ManPain with Pineapple”, which if you’ve watched it you’ll understand, and if you haven’t this isn’t making much sense, but I’m finding it difficult to worry about you because you obviously have poor viewing habits.

I might post pictures of my kids in their costumes, but I might not. Trust me when I say they were adorable.

Thankfully, Brianna’s boyfriend and her friend’s boyfriend did trick-or-treat escort duty. Otherwise, I might have insisted on firearms. And wooden stakes.

Row, Row, Row your house…

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Posted on : 01-Oct-2010 | By : Amber | In : general complaining, miscellaneous garbage

It’s raining. Not sprinkling, not spitting. It’s RAINING. Like – big honkin’ drops that laugh at your umbrella and crash through the fabric like Pelosi through our tax money. Normally I like living in this state, near the river which is near the ocean which means we get a lot of pretty cool weather interspersed with hurricanes to keep things interesting. This isn’t even a hurricane, but I’m beginning to forget what the sun looks like and since I’m homeschooling my kids and my youngest is taking Astronomy this year, being able to identify the sun is sort of a requirement, yanno?

We also live in a city that needs a $500 million drainage system upgrade, but since our city is either poor or stupid or both (see previous post about my house redo woes), that isn’t going to happen anytime soon, so across the street the neighbor’s backyard has become a small lake, complete with floating dead critters and raw sewage. They’re also lucky enough to have a basement, so I guess technically they can say they have an indoor swimming pool, if you don’t mind swimming in other folks’ poo.

Awesomeness.

Despite this, they did NOT cancel school today. Well, ok, they did, in that they said “if you haven’t sent your kid to school yet, don’t”, at around noon, which was a big ole’ kick in the behind to the parents that HAD sent their kids to school, trusting that the school knew what they were doing. I homeschool – I know they don’t know what they’re doing.

Buses aren’t amphibious vehicles, ya’ll.

On the other hand, since we do school at home, my girls didn’t get a day of busywork because most of their teachers couldn’t get into the parking lot. They had to actually learn something. The horror.

They can have a day off if we get a hurricane. Unless we get one of these:

My idea of a houseboat

’cause if I get one of these, they’re totally having to continue with their education.

Edit – my friend Cinco, who is one of the best grammarians around, pointed out a boo-boo in the above, which I’ve fixed, ’cause she’s always right about stuff like that, and about stuff in general. I love her with big, fluffy pink hearts.

Payback time..

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Posted on : 09-Sep-2010 | By : Amber | In : miscellaneous garbage, Rambling rambles, Teenagers

While I’m hoping that this blog might eventually help me become rich launch a productive writing career, I’ve discovered that it has an excellent bonus that I can cash in on here and now. I can use it to embarrass my teenage daughter. Awesomeness. I was asked if I was writing about zombies again, and I probably should, ’cause writing the about the undead rocks hard, but in reality I wasn’t, at least until she asked me that with that “my mom is a complete headcase” look in her eyes, so of course I had to. It’s in the rule book.

So, apparently it’s ok for her to do things like yell “loodle loodle loo” on roller coasters and pretend to be a kraken in public fountains – wait, that was a movie teenager, my bad, but she’d totally do it if she thought she could get away with it, so I’m leaving it in – and of course nothing I’ve done yet can measure up to her announcing at the top of her lungs outside of the Disney store “I HAVE A WEDGIE IN MY BUTT! CAN YOU GET THE WEDGIE OUT OF MY BUTT??” Yeah, she was 3, but she totally looked older, and now I’m known as the wedgie mom in that mall, so it’s a good thing I shop somewhere else now.

I’m not, however, allowed to blog a teensy bit about zombies. ‘Cause, that’s embarrassing, apparently.

It’s a good thing she’s cute, and is old enough to do things like laundry.