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Remember How You Hung Up The Phone?

Thursday, July 28, 2011

Dear Mom;

You've been gone for five years now. Wow, I can't believe it's been that long. I think about you a lot, especially when I look at Anna-Grace Elizabeth, your great-granddaughter. She's three now and has curly brown hair that's long enough for pigtails, finally. She has huge brown eyes and the personality of a "Robinson" girl.

I laugh when I remember you hanging up on Karli's dad when he called to tell you she was pregnant with Jakob. You eventually called back.

I remember you hanging up the phone when Karli was pregnant with Isaiah and she told you he was a boy. You really wanted a great-granddaughter, even though you loved him with all of your heart when he got here.

You even hung up on Karli when she told you Josiah was a boy. You were REALLY wanting a great granddaughter and you were 0 for 3.

The day we found out Karli's fourth baby was to be a girl I cried. I cried for you. I cried for the joy you would have had knowing another Princess was on the way.

I cried for you when she was born three months early and fought for her life.

I cried for you when I bought her micro-preemie clothes, and again when we brought her home.

Karli sent me pictures today and I cried as I saw Anna-Grace through your eyes. With everything in me I hope that you can see her. I hope that you have realized your dreams were fulfilled. There is another Princess in the lineage that walks this earth.

When I look at her, each and every time, I think of you and part of me cries. You would have adored her. I can see you smile at her "diva-ness." She's all girl. She's all about the shoes, the nail polish, her hair, prissing about and the color purple.

I hear your laugh when she does some silly thing like cocking her head and raising her eyebrows.

She brings you back to me. Through watching Anna-Grace grow I still have my mom.


Ya Just Never Know

Wednesday, July 27, 2011

I try, I mean I really try, not to talk about my kids on this site much. I mean, I really fight being a "mommy" blogger. After raising kids for 29 years and still having 4 at home I'm all mommied out. But tonight is an exception.

See my son, I'll just call him Michael (kinda like I did when he was born), just started his new job. He's been looking for a job forever and he's lucky he finally found one. His first day was yesterday.

He works taking in donations for Goodwill. He accepts the donations, writes receipts, sorts the junk items, and loads them onto trucks to send to the other centers.

Michael's not much of a talker so I was asking lots of questions.

"So what kind of things did you take in yesterday?"

"Well, clothes, furniture, a raccoon, knives, lots of ammo. Ya know, just stuff."

"A raccoon?"

"Yeah, he was stuffed."

"Well Michael what was the most interesting thing you took in, the thing that you'd buy for yourself?"

"A grenade launcher. It was pretty cool."

"What was the weirdest thing you took in?"

"A crack pipe."

"WTH? A freaking crack pipe?! Why in the hell would anyone donate a crack pipe? What box did you put that in?"

"The haz-mat box."

Kid is being pretty boring at this point. Nothing is seeming to get much of a reaction out of him at all. I had to get more inventive with my questions.

"Did you take in any used underwear?"


Well that didn't get a reaction.

"Michael, what was the most disgusting thing you took in?"

"Sex toys."

Now I'm spewing iced tea.


Totally straight faced he said "I told you sex toys Mom."

"How did you know it was a sex toy?"

"Well for one it was pink. For another is was see through."

"And out of that you get that it was a sex toy? Was is shaped like anything?"

I mean this is a pretty sheltered kid. Maybe his imagination was getting the best of him.

"Well Michael, was it shaped like anything?"

Michael picked up his iced tea, took a sip, I think in the hopes of avoiding the question.

Then his Dad asks, "Well Michael was it shaped like a tillie-winker?"

Michael chokes on his tea, finally cracks a smile and wipes the tea off of his mouth and off of the table.

"Well Michael, was it shaped like a tillie-winker?"

Who in the hell says "tillie-winker?"

The kid that never laughs burst into uncontrollable laughter.

"Enough said. You've answered that question."

"Wait, Michael," I asked, "what box did you put that into?"


I sure hope he wears gloves. 


Ten Really Bad Things, Well Maybe Five

Sunday, July 24, 2011

This weekend totally sucked. Motorcycle trip was the trip from hell. So I'll try to come up with ten five really bad things that DIDN'T happen this weekend.

1) I didn't go to jail for hunting down and beating to a pulp the punks that stole helmets and riding glasses from the bikes this weekend.

2) The skin under my watch and my kick ass, biker babe bracelet didn't get sunburned.

3) My latte wasn't made wrong when I FINALLY found a Starbucks.

4) There wasn't a deer around any corner I encountered, although a poor chipmunk lost his life.

5) The llamas at the hotel didn't spit at me when I fed them.

Anything not listed in the above items, feel free to believe it happened.


Open Road!

Friday, July 22, 2011

There's been a lot crammed into this week. I feel like it's been an entire month long in just seven short days. Most of it I have no memory of, I really think I need to be checked for Alzheimer's, or maybe just cutting back on the benzos might help my short term memory.

One really cool thing I do remember is that Wednesday I went to bike night at Four Corner's Saloon. Isabella was an eye catcher, she especially caught the eye of two reporters. They both wanted interviews, but being that she's a bit on the aloof side I had to do all the talking. It was fun, she was beautiful and the night was a success.

My girl, Isabella

Tomorrow she and I are taking a weekend ride out to Sister's, Oregon. It's going to be great! Mid 80's, sunshine and my girl and me on the open road! 

It'll be nice wind down time from this week. Back Sunday sometime, hoping the kids survive or at the very least don't burn my house down.

Maybe I'll post a few pics this weekend, maybe I won't. We'll see what I get. 

Until next week,


Tears In Heaven Redux

Wednesday, July 20, 2011

It's that time again. If you don't know the background please click on the links to read about Isaiah's story. Yesterday was to have been his 7th birthday. Please read the background. Educate yourselves. Educate your kids. Had we known that one can be asymptomatic with herpes Isaiah could have lived. Here's another link about what happened. Here's another link.

Also, sorry this isn't the best quality. You Tube took the sound so I had to upload it from Blogger. If you click on the arrows on the bottom right it will take the video full screen and the text will be easier to read although the quality will be poorer.


I'll Never Understand

Monday, July 18, 2011

Bipolar rules. Bipolar tattoos. Bipolar conspiracy theories. Bipolar cool. Are poodles divas? Arrogant, loud, road rage, excited signs of being bipolar. Are you a bad mom if sometimes you don't want to be a mom?

These are all keywords that led to my blog this week.

First of all, "bipolar rules." The rules for being bipolar are pretty simple, take your meds and try to act normal, whatever normal is.

"Bipolar tattoos?" What the hell would a bipolar tattoo be? A penguin that spends his summers on the North Pole and his winters on the South Pole? I just don't get this.

"Bipolar conspiracy theories." I'm so stuck here. I mean, what is going through that person's mind? Did we really shoot JFK? Maybe we were behind the Watergate burglaries. Bigfoot. Maybe Bigfoot was bipolar. The only conspiracy theory I know of is who in the hell keeps racking up credit card bills at Nordstrom on my credit cards. It's not me, I swear!

"Are poodles divas?" Well, yes and no. My standard poodle wears a swarovski crystal collar which screams diva, but other than that she's a pain in the butt that's becoming increasingly closer to being featured on Craigslist!

"Bipolar cool." Heck yes! Bipolar is cool, it's always a thrill ride, never a dull moment and we always seem to be getting packages in the mail. Mine usually come from Nordstrom or Nike, now that's cool.

"Arrogant, loud, road rage, excited signs of being bipolar?" I know a few of these people and none have confessed to me that they are bipolar. Maybe this fits into the "bipolar conspiracy theory" category? Just between us, I think it has more to do with the "Y" gene than bipolar.

"Are you a bad mom if sometimes you don't want to be a mom?" HELL FREAKING NO! It makes you human, or maybe it makes me a bad mom. Sounding like a conspiracy theory more and more.

I can't wait to see what keywords next week brings.


Missing? Or Was I?

Sunday, July 17, 2011

I didn't realize until I received an email this afternoon that I've been MIA. Thinking back I guess it's true.

The last few days are a blur of sleeping, laundry, arguing and more sleeping.

This afternoon I got this awesome email from a friend of mine over at Chrome On The Range.

Missing: on, or near, the west coast of North America: one Diva.

Blond. Well-developed. Average size for a Diva. Subject to significant changes in emotions. Bordering on insanity (a gift from her children).

May be wearing black motorcycle leathers. Rides a shocking pink Harley Davidson motorcycle.

If seen, please take her to
1. A shooting range,
2. a good "watering hole,"
3. Home.
All, some, or at least the last of the above.

Reward offered. (The reward is the pleasure of her company.)

"Missing notice" posted by


He made me feel loved in this extraordinarily sleep filled, tension filled weekend. Sleep is something that I don't get to indulge in as ofter as I wish. Truth is that I've been sleepy all weekend.

I've also been disappointed because of the weather. I was supposed to ride down to Salem for a motorcycle rally but the rear tire on my Harley needs to be replaced I just discovered. I didn't trust riding that far on a "really needing to be replaced" tire in the rain.

So, thank you to Bear, it's nice to be missed. Now, it's time for some more Diva hibernation.


No Words

Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Most of you know of the baby Anna-Grace.Today was her three year appointment with her cardiologist. When she was 8 months old she was in heart failure and had to have open heart surgery. This was after being born three months early and weighing in at only 2 pounds.

There are no words to describe seeing her at the doctor today so healthy and alive.

you can barely see her scar

There are no words to describe watching her eat a graham cracker with peanut butter while she held her purple balloon.

There are no words to describe watching the child that was to die wearing my shoes this afternoon.

There are no words I can write, or speak, that can express my gratitude to the doctors and nurses that saved her life. Thank you just doesn't seem to be enough.


Evidently I Don't Provide Enough Summertime Entertainment

Monday, July 11, 2011

My youngest son and my grand son must be bored, terribly bored. But they are kinda cute.


You're SO Not Gonna Get Away With That!

Sunday, July 10, 2011

I won’t be naming any names in this post because it just wouldn’t be right, but some of my Oregon and Washington peeps will know exactly who I’m writing about. This morning we walked into Starbucks and saw a man we knew from years before. We saw this man many times a week for about 8 months straight. It was a intensely unpleasant relationship.

Follow me back in time, lets say, oh, to 1994, that’s where the story begins. My husband and I went to a car dealership to trade in our car for a new one. The loan officer pulled up what we owed and asked to see the papers on our old car.

She ran some numbers and told us that the last dealership had pulled some rather unethical practices, not only on the car we were trying to trade in, but on the car before that as well. All together we lost around $10,000.

 To make a very long story somewhat shorter we found out that this particular car dealer had TONS of complaints with the attorney general’s office in Washington and Oregon for the same thing that happened to us, plus many more highly questionable practices. A typical dealership might have one or maybe two complaints. This dealership had hundreds.

We were first pretty civil. We called the General Manager and told him our story. We wanted to give him a chance to take care of things. We were told “I don’t care what happened. I’m not afraid of you and I’m certainly not afraid of the attorney general. God bless you.” With that the general manager hung up the phone. Well that pretty much pissed me off and sent me looking for an attorney.

We found an attorney and contacted the hundreds of people that had filed complaints against this dealership. We formed a non profit corporation that would fight back. We started only to get the dealership, whose advertising featured a man (the owner) that was in every one of his commercials wearing his signature eye glasses, to make right the wrong that was done. He always promised “If you don’t come see us today, we can’t save you any money.” Ha, ha and HA!

As a group we decided to put together a picketing campaign. We started out with about a hundred people that were dedicated to the same thing we were. We wanted the people that were harmed through unethical practices to get their money back. We didn't want anything more than was fraudulently taken.

For eight straight months we picketed. We picketed in pouring rain, snow, ice and sunshine. Nothing kept us away from our weekend picketing campaign.

We did TV news interviews, newspaper interviews, magazine and radio interviews. The dealership hired PIs to follow us trying to intimidate us. They planted “bugs” in the plants, along the sidewalks we paced with signs, to hear what we were up to. They tried to scare us, they belittled us, they bullied us, they tried everything to get us to stop. Nothing worked. We kept picketing and did so until justice was served.

We had some killer signs. We had a huge shark, one of my favorites. One of our guys had a sign that read “This guy screwed more people than Wilt Chamberlain.” Even our little 3 year old carried a sign from his stroller. It read “My daddy says lying is wrong.” We had a huge toilet sign, we even had a “wall of shame.”

On the wall of shame we posted all of the bad deals that had been made. We handed out fliers that outlined how to buy, or lease, a car without being taken to the cleaners. At the time the State of Washington had very lax leasing laws that the car dealers used to their advantage. The consumer was at a huge disadvantage.

For eight months this dealership took us to court and for eight months the courts ruled that we had every right to picket and alert consumers to the shady practices the attorney general had already identified.

In the end every consumer that had been harmed got every cent back that they’d lost. How they lost the money, and the practices used by the dealership, would take several more posts and this post is just giving you the background so you can understand the significance of what happened this morning.

In the end the dealership paid out over $12 million dollars in fines, restitution to consumers and lost revenue. In the end we got the laws in the State of Washington changed.  In the end our little non profit group helped turn around countless questionable car dealerships. In the end we got the owner of the dealership to agree never to sell cars in the State of Washington again, ever, without our consent.  In the end the consumer won.

This morning when we walked into Starbucks a man was watching us as we entered. He watched as I said “Hey, look, that’s ..................” He watched me as I said his name, he heard me as I said his name. He probably thought I recognized him from the commercials he had done after being “let go” by that dealership we picketed. He ended up coming to Oregon and bought his own dealerships. He made his own commercials. I know he thought I recognized him from those commercials.

We decided that after 17 years it was time to bury the hatchet. We walked over and you could tell the man recognized us, but he wasn’t sure where from. As soon as he heard our names his countenance changed.

But we were friendly, even shook his hand. He told us that he just moved to our little town and named a street he lived off of. “That’s funny. We live off the same street.”

“Oh really? Where?”

“The first cul-de-sac to the left.”

“Oh, I see lots of children playing there when I drive by.”

“Those kids are our children and grandchildren.”

He then told us exactly where he lived, kind of funny for some one that had once been our sworn enemy.

He, the ex-general manager of that first store our little group picketed, lives right across the street from us, behind our friends’ house. His family moved in just last week.

This week I’m going to put together a “welcome to the neighborhood” basket for him and his family. I think it’s time to begin anew.


I Thought I Was Ready

Wednesday, July 6, 2011

If you look under my bathroom sink, somewhere between the mountain of plastic containers holding tons of hair products, lotions, and things I have no idea what they are, or why I have them, you'll see filled gallon sized baggies.

In those baggies are just about every toiletry item I need for a motorcycle trip. There's, you know, normal stuff like fingernail clippers, Q-Tips, a small container of baking soda for brushing my teeth (tooth paste makes me gag, I mean really, really gag to the point of throwing up gagging), travel sized Dial Shower Gel, an extra contact (yes, "an" as in one, I only wear one contact. I use one eye to read and one eye to for distance), contact lens solution, etc.

The idea being that all I have to do when I'm packing for a motorcycle trip is throw the baggie in the suitcase and I'm ready to bolt. There are a couple of things that aren't in the baggie: a shower scrubby, hair brush and blow dryer. I usually throw those things in the morning of the trip.

The first night of the trip last weekend I got to the hotel hot and tired, ready to jump in the shower and get off the road grime. I got the body wash, the razor, the shampoo and the, wait, it's wasn't there! The sacred scrubby! I'd forgotten the damn scrubby!

How in the hell does one get CLEAN without a scrubby? It's the greatest invention EVER made, well besides Christian Louboutin stilettos, and I FREAKING forgot it! I was reduced to using the very un-diva like hotel wash cloth.

You can always tell they're Christian Louboutin by the inside of the heel being red. Heavenly.

Have you ever tried to get a hotel wash cloth to lather up? Have you ever thought about exactly WHAT else those wash clothes have washed, or attempted to wash? I don't care if the hotel's laundry service leaves them in a vat of bleach for hours on end, the entire thing is creepy. It's like lying on the hotel bedspread that you know is never cleaned. The very bedspread that other disgusting, dirty people have done disgusting, dirty things on. Why did I even write that? I feel all gaggy now. I digress.

I had no choice but to try to use the stinkin' hotel wash cloth. At that point the road grime was more of a disgusting thought to me than the wash cloth. After washing and conditioning my hair I reached for the dreaded poor excuse for a body cleaner. I wet it and applied the bath gel. No lather, no damn lather. How in hell am I supposed to get clean? By this time I know I'm going to need a xanex, I mean, I don't do dirt. Sweat from working out I can handle, for a short time, but dirt? No EFFIN' WAY!

I did my best and even though the wash cloth was covered with road grime, I still felt dirty. D.I.R.T.Y. I tell you!

Oh well I was to be home soon and my heavenly scrubby would be awaiting me. I guess it's a small price to pay for being able to ride in the wind in such a beautiful place as Oregon.


Republicans Recycle?

Sunday, July 3, 2011

Just because I'm Republican doesn't mean I don't believe in recycling. I do. As a matter of fact I've done so tonight with this post. Being on a motorcycle for three days and coming home to problem after problem has left me totally burned out. 

So here's a post from last year. I kind of wish it had been from tonight, the quiet kid part anyway.  

It was really, I mean really, quiet around our house tonight. There was no arguing, no screaming, no dogs yelping. I heard no crying or anything being thrown. Something had to be up. This just doesn't happen in our house.

Most days I feel like this. Even though I'm a stay at home mom and my kids have never been to daycare.


I was beginning to think that I'd taken one too many Xanex. I crept into the living room not really knowing what to expect. Had the dogs taken revenge? Had the kids locked themselves out on the deck again? Had they all eaten that chicken that's been in the fridge for the last, um, several weeks?
This is what I found:

Ok, there's two.

and another

one more

Jake makes five.

Anna-Grace makes six.

They were in the living room within 15 feet of each other. All were there but Michael who was down in his room doing homework, or what he said was home work. No one was making a sound. I'm grabbing my calendar, this is never going to happen again! Oh wait! I need my iPhone to document this once in a lifetime occasion!

Jeff wasn't too happy though. He was a little more than irritated that every child was on some sort electronic device, even the baby. He gave them the "when I was a kid I was never in the house" lecture.


They looked at me and I gave then the "just roll with it" look. They looked out of the window at the hail coming down and the rain blowing sideways then all 12 eyes were back on their still lecturing father. They knew better than to say a word. They let him finish his rant, said the obligatory "yes sir" and went back to being OUIET!

I know he has a point. But there are days that I only want quiet! I don't care if comes from a roll of duct tape or an iPhone.

There are times around our home when iPods and kids mean a sane mom, and a sane mom doesn't happen everyday.


Conquered The Tail!

Saturday, July 2, 2011

Made it safely all the way across Oregon and down the Devil's Tail and back. Home tomorrow!

 Ready for the day

Real nutrition

Why I wear a full face helmet with the face shield down!

A few critters got in my way

 The canyon

Long ride ahead of me tomorrow. Leaving Baker City about 9 AM. Be home around 6 PM, then a shower and straight to bed.

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