What Blindness Cannot Do.

We’ve all seen this touching poem written by an unknown cancer patient.


It cannot cripple love, it cannot shatter hope

It cannot corrode faith, it cannot eat away peace

It cannot destroy confidence, it cannot kill friendship

It cannot shut out the memories, it cannot silence courage

It cannot invade the soul, it cannot reduce eternal life.

It cannot quench the Spirit.

All this is true, and more.  I am living proof.  But it’s not just true about cancer.  It is true about any situation in our lives.  I know I have passed my positive attitude on to Danny.  I hope he keeps it throughout his life.  I offer this regarding blindness:


It cannot silence sound.  It cannot stop creativity.

It cannot dim vision.  It cannot eliminate motion.

It cannot reduce self-respect.  It cannot erase intelligence.

It cannot still hands.  It cannot destroy heart.

It cannot limit dreams.

 Here is my internal inspiration!

Danny playing at Big Sur Creek

And here is the inspiration found in my inbox this morning.  A blind photographer.  Can you imagine?  No?  Well thankfully Pete Eckert could…

Amazing, right?  I wish no less for Danny in his lifetime.


You Can’t Judge a Book by It’s Cover

I watch America’s Got Talent every summer. It’s one of my favorite things about the summer TV hiatus. I like to think of it as a kinder, gentler version of American Idol. Plus it hearkens back to the variety shows of my childhood which I dearly loved.

This fellow (he’s not really a “gentleman”, per se), Kevin Skinner, was on the show Tuesday night. I have several observations on his performance.

Primarily, Mr. Skinner has got to be one of the most endearing, humble men I’ve seen on this show in a long time. Quite refreshing, actually. And, yes… amusing as all hell. Though I did think it very rude and unprofessional of Sharon Osborne to laugh at his accent when he said “Garth Brooooooks” with that deep Tennessee twang. I had to shelve the whole judgmental thing when he said he was a chicken catcher,though, because then I was laughing out loud, too.

Really? People have that job? Unbidden visions of Chicken George (I don’t KNOW why) and my too often used metaphor of “herding chickens” when attempting to get my kids (and Daddy’O) somewhere en masse sprang to mind. Not attractive visuals.

All in all, I was feeling very bad for Mr. Kevin Skinner, ex-chicken catcher (10,000 chickens per night, oh my!) who was looking decidedly uncomfortable. Then he sang to me.

Since I’m acting on the assumption that you’ve watched the video you know exactly what I’m talking about when I say “he sang to me.” Garth Brooks, himself never did as fine a job with that song – never made me feel as if he were holding my hand at the end of our bed pouring out his heart to me in verse. Never have I heard laughter stop so abruptly.

I believe Keving Skinner’s days of catching chickens are over. My pleasure for him is tainted only by the fear that his country simplicity may open him up to much more laughter before his singing can silence it.

Ballgame or Bust

I believe D may be heading into yet another obsession. He still has yet to give up his fascination with pretending to be in a vehicle (car, bus, truck or motorcycle) with his seatbelt on (any belt or length of cord will do) driving to the DMV or, most recently, a baseball game. However, he has insisted on listening to baseball games in the car for 2 weeks in a row and has demanded we watch the baseball video I made of B’s team over and over again.

He has to listen to the video before he goes to bed each night – that’s 5 nights running now. And yesterday he watched/listened to it at least 8 or 9 times in a row. It is a 17 minute video. I can’t do that kind of math on the weekends but I know it was a lot of minutes of my life I will never get back again. I suspect I’ll lose a lot more before it’s over, too. It’s a nice video if I do say so myself. Even if none of the team could make it work in their DVD players or their computers. Stupid software. Why it works in both of ours I’ll never know. There is a soundtrack and everything: Take Me Out To The Ballgame, Centerfield, etc. It’s pretty cool. I’m sick of it.

A good thing did come of it though. I did catch D singing this really great song this morning.

His ability to remember all the words to most any song after hearing it a few times always astounds me. I guess most kids do this but B never did. I’m still not sure he knows any songs all the way through. He was just never very musical that way (but he does wail on the harmonica). So it’s not like I think D’s a child prodigy or anything… he just amazes me. And, well, I guess that’s what it’s really all about.

If I read my kid right, he will be all about baseball 24/7 within the next week or so and taking the couch or chair to the DMV will be a thing of the past. I might actually miss this one. It was pretty easy to just bring a belt with me anywhere I went. What am I going to do once baseball season ends? Hmmm. Perhaps I should make use of my TiVo while the gettin’s good.

An interesting little addendum to the video story… After he finished singing I started to replay the video for him. What kid doesn’t love to hear his own voice? Holy Guacamole! He lost his sh!t! Completely freaked out! He started sobbing and yelling “No, no. I don’t want that.” But he seemed genuinely distressed. Makes me wonder what he’s thinking. Like someone stole his voice or something. Evil video elves, maybe. Huh.

Assuming the position

When I left for work this morning at 6 in the A M, gasoline in my sleepy little town was $4.07. Expensive? Yes. I thought so. We are typically 3-7 cents more expensive than the rest of the area which is notoriously the one of the most expensive in the State. At lunch time I drove into town because it was cold and rainy and the single apple with peanut butter I was planning to eat didn’t sound warm enough.

I gasped when I passed the Chevron & Shell stations in town to see gas had gone up again to $4.11 & $4.13 respectively. Outrageous! Highway robbery! Literally.

A mere 3 hours later that same Shell station had changed their price to $4.17. Holy crap! So glad I’m not driving anywhere for the holiday weekend! I toodled slowly back to my town off-the-beaten-path due to downed power lines and a v-e-r-y slow detour. Ack!!! The sign on my gas station read… are you ready for this?…

$4.25 !!!!! And the one across the street was $4.29!!!!!!!!! In case you can’t do the math through the fog of confusion, that’s am $ 0.18 and $0.22 increase in a mere 9 hours!!!!!

I don’t get it. The gasoline the stations are selling this afternoon is the very same gas they had in their tanks this morning. The gas they probably had in those tanks 3 days ago. The gas I know was not previously sold at a loss. Somewhere in my brain (or maybe they exist on a cellular level) are the universal memories from our ancestors about calculating retail markup.

Wholesale price x Markup percentage + State, Federal and Local Taxes = Retail Price

Therefore, gasoline received in a given shipment should always have the same price until another shipment is received.

When exactly did it change to this whacked formula?

Wholesale price x (Markup percentage x percentage of public need)
x journalistic fear mongering + Taxes = Retail Price

Which lasts exactly 1.2 hours.

I heard on the World News last night that price projections by the end of the summer are between $5 and $6.

What are we going to do?


In other less expensive news…

Here is a video of D for your enjoyment. Please be noting the mad musical skilz of my youngest rug rat. Also the cheeks.

D is for…

Dentist… which is who I need to go see for my aching molar.

…Drowsy… or more like …Dead tired… which is me after a week filled with work starting at 6:00 A.M., blood work, a Parent/Teacher conference, a two-day class @ work taught by someone w-a-y too into his subject, an IEP, our tax appointment, a trip with the kids to the library and 3 hours at the PTA Art/Science Expo.

…Drum. Here is D playing his first drum solo at the Instrument Petting Zoo at the Art/Science Expo.

…Delusional... What my child is if he thinks he’s ever getting a set of Drums.

…Dumbass… The name for a parent who cannot seem to watch her language in front of a preschooler with the mind of a steel trap and the tongue of a sailor.

and the coup de gras…

“D is for dammit.” The words spoken nonchalantly by my youngest as I was changing his Diaper.

Liar, liar, pants on fire! plus video!

Help! I need the blogosphere’s sage opinion.

Last night B lost his 2nd front tooth. Well, as I’ve mentioned before, B is a proud possessor of the Portuguese Packrat Gene. So, of course, he always wants to keep his lost teeth and NOT give them to the Tooth Fairy. This has always surprised me. It seems in direct opposition to his love of money. In this case, however, genetics must win out. The need to horde completely worthless items is so strong that the Tooth Fairy has only managed to lay hands on one of four baby teeth.

Daddy-O and I may have made a fatal mistake with the last baby tooth that came out a few weeks ago. It was an upper front tooth. An important tooth. (We tried to shoot it out with a Nerf gun but B chickened out. We did manage to make it work for the one he lost last night but that is another story. ) At any rate, he really, really wanted to keep the tooth for sentimental reasons. Bah! Only my kid! So he wrote a note to the Tooth Fairy & explained very poignantly how important it was to him & asked if he might not keep the tooth & still get paid. And the Tooth Fairy stupidly agreed.

Back to last night. Be actually managed to NOT chicken out on the launching of his loose tooth. We tied a string to said tooth. Tied the other end of the string to a nerf dart which was then placed into a Nerf gatling gun. B then shot the dart into the front door. The offending tooth was ripped out of his mouth! It was AWESOME! And all caught on film. Which I will post tonight for your viewing pleasure. No. Please don’t thank me.

As you can imagine, though, being his first gatling-gun-shot-tooth, there was a higher-than-normal amount of sentimental attachment to said tooth. So, once again, he penned a letter to the Tooth Fairy asking to keep his tooth. He’s obviously got her pegged as an easy mark by now and thinks to keep the tooth and score some loot. I tried to warn him that she wasn’t going to let him keep getting away with that. But B just shrugged it off.

So, I went to bed without any clandestine visits to the Bunkbed From Hell (you just try to get under a pillow on the top bunk without waking a kid when they collect C-R-A-P next to their head. Lesson: Don’t move your kids to a bunkbed until they have lost all their teeth.).

B gets up this morning & tells me that, indeed the Tooth Fairy had left him his tooth AND a dollar and some change. Imagine my surprise! I know it wasn’t Daddy-O because he has been in bed with the flu since Monday night. (Ugh! My home life sucks in so many ways right now! But that is another post!) Unless there really is a Tooth Fairy, my child out & out LIED right. To. My. Face.

My question to you, blogosphere, is this: What do I do about it?

Do I just ignore the lie & let the Tooth Fairy persona live on?

Do I call him on it outright & blow the whole Tooth Fairy thing sky high?

Do I call him on it & say that somehow the Tooth Fairy let me know that she didn’t give him any money?

It goes completely against my grain to just let him get away with a lie – particularly a blatant one! But I also don’t like to prematurely dispell childhood illusions… I am so torn. Daddy-o, in typical man fashion, is no help and has simply deffered to me. So I will deffer to you! Ha!

Help me Blogiwan! You are my only hope!


As promised earlier… video of B shooting his tooth out with his Nerf gun.

Isn’t that cool!!??? Totally ignore Daddy-O in the background. He’s on my list right now.

After talking with people all day about the Tooth Fairy Incident my friend at the pharmacy came up with a great solution. She suggested having the Tooth Fairy write B a letter claiming knowledge of the lie. Genius. Pure genius!!!

I had someone at work write the note so as not to have my handwriting recognized. And here it is…

So what do you think??? I’ll put it on his bed tonight. Now for the real question…

What in the hell will I do if B DOESN’T confess his lie???