Babies.....

Say "hello" to my very first grandchild, Hailey Rae-Ann. (Teeny, tiny little thing, isn't she?).

It doesn't feel real to me that I'm actually somebody's Grandma but I'm beyond proud anyway!!

When I e-mailed people and posted on Facebook and made up a photo album about little Ms. Hailey's grand debut, I never once thought to say "bouncing baby" girl. That just occurred to me.

How many times have you heard that someone gave birth to a "bouncing baby" boy or girl? A LOT, right??

How'd this come about?

I've never seen a bouncing baby. Have you?

I suspect that if you tried dribbling one (and I'm not for one second suggesting that you DO try this!!), they wouldn't bounce. I suspect that, what WOULD happen would not be amusing, either. Or very pretty.

Joining the fray

Well, I haven't been here for a while and I'm wondering if my three readers missed me at all. (Lie to me, guys..... throw me a bone!!)

And, I wouldn't want to disappoint so my return is on the fringes of the Jon and Kate hoopla because I wouldn't want to be the only one not sharing my useless opinion about this "poor family".

Now here's where it gets kind of funny because - as annoying as the whole idiotic situation is (and as idiotic as the whole annoying situation is) - I'll be watching the "season premiere" on Monday night. (Not really. I'll be at the casino but my youngest daughter promised she'd tape it for me). Honestly - it's out of sheer morbid curiousity. I just have to hear what Jon and Kate have to say after all the b.s. that has been swirling around.

Not that they'll address any of MY questions. Like..... Kate? How can you complain about the press and attention that your family gets while you are still haggling for another two seasons to parade your poor kids on TV?? See..... publicity doesn't go looking for Joe Anonymous on the street. It waits for a door to be opened. Like YOU did. 'Member?? You 'member!!!

Here's one for both of you - Jon AND Kate..... if standing before God and family and friends the FIRST time you got married and promising to be together forever isn't enough to make you actually do the work to make your marriage last, isn't the fact that you did it a SECOND time - with your 8 children as witnesses???? Or are you just such vapid publicity-hounds that you consider that mockery acceptable?

Jon?? Have you managed to sock any of the money away from the inflated amounts you all received for this show so that you'll have something to draw on? Your child support is going to be astronomical, you know.

Oh, and lest I forget - and this is just for my vicious "entertainment" - Jon? Will you get your balls back or does Kate get to keep them in some kind of property agreement?

Battles at the Mall

There are a couple of blog entries I have made on "MySpace" and the points made and questions asked are still "valid" so I figured I'd post them here.

Following is the first:

Why isn't it legal - and openly encouraged - to bitch slap those perfume nazi's at the mall? I'm not talking about the ones inside Dillards or Macy's (since I can't afford to go in there anyway) that you can easily avoid by sidestepping the stores. I'm talking about the ones that are in the employ of those "kiosks" that you HAVE to walk by just to get from JC Penney's to FYE to wrap up your Christmas shopping.

The kiosk at our mall that I'm referring to sells some kind of seaweed extract/all natural/homeopathic crap that they want to squirt on your hands and they do everything short of tackle you and knock you to the ground trying to get your attention to ask if they can apply a bit of this miracle lotion while you, on the other hand, are trying to thunder past and not make eye contact which - in a bustling scene such as a mall packed with Christmas shoppers - is damn near impossible or, if you ARE able to avoid eye contact, you run the risk of either 1) walking one way and looking another and, quite possibly, tripping over a small child; or 2) looking so intense in your angry efforts to avoid the seaweed spritzer that you come off as a hostile stalker.
On my latest attempt to walk sideways and look backwards, I failed miserably and smacked right into the perfumed lotion pusher. Here is how that encounter unfolded:

Her: (while using moves any defensive football player would be proud of in her (nearly successful) efforts to keep me from bolting): Can I squirt some "Seaweed Miracle Crap" on your hands?
Me: (madly trying to escape): No.
Her: (now trotting to keep up with me): Can I ask you a question?
Me: You already did.

At this point I actually broke into a run. Bear in mind, this is no small feat for someone of my age and rapidly expanding body habitus. And I didn't stop until I reached the escalator which would take me safely to the food court where I could comfort myself with a hot buttered pretzel.

Now, see.... if there was justice in the world and we were free to exact whatever force necessary to deal with these ever-present pests, I would have been perfectly within my legal rights to inform her (to quote Alan from "Boston Legal") "You've made the strategic mistake of pissing me off" and then, quite calmly, poke her in the eye with my car key.

Ash Wednesday

Okay, readers (yes, I know there's only two of you but I'm always scouting for more! Who doesn't love indigestion-inducing rants over trivial crap??) I have a question for you.... if you just came from Ash Wednesday Mass and every simple moron pedestrian AND driver between the church and the Sonic you are heading to for a grilled cheese sandwich that you can scarf down on your way back to work gets in front of YOUR car and you call each of them a colorful name, do you lose any of the grace and/or blessings that you might have gained by attending Mass in the first place??

And if not, how about if you flip off the driver of a semi-truck that nearly hits your car because he can't drive said truck and waits until he's halfway past the point of needing to start turning before actually doing so?? Will THAT do it?

Just wondering.

Safety is our number one.....problem.

That's right, Casey Kasem. Safety is our number one problem. And moving up fast - at number two with a bullet - would be "We have our heads firmly implanted up our butts and can't get them out!".

I had to go to a government building the other day to file some papers for work. When you enter this building, you have to go through a security "check" before you can get to the elevators to get where you are actually going. This security check consists of - get this - walking across a great expanse to the back of the lobby where a security "guard" sits surrounded by a wooden divider of sorts. On one side of him is a conveyor belt on which you have to put your purse, cell phone and whatever else you are carrying so that it can be x-rayed. On the other side of the "guard" is a metal detector that you have to walk through.

So, you might find yourself asking, what exactly is my problem with this. Well, folks, I'll tell you.... my problem with this is the massive stupidity in play in anyone thinking that this is an answer to security problems.

First, the only employees that are protected from a crazed gunman are those in offices that you need to take the elevators to access. The people in the library right off the lobby - that's that open door several feet before you get to the security "guard" - and the "guard" himself are completely unprotected. Or do they really think that the wooden divider will protect this guy from anything??

But that's ALMOST better than my youngest daughter's school. There, you have to stand behind bullet proof glass and be buzzed in by the school secretary. Wonderful. Right?

Wrong again, Charley!

The bullet proof glass on the inside of the school does nothing for those children (my daughter included) and their teachers who are in the modular classrooms outside.

Well, you say "Gee whiz! They put up a fence around those modular buildings." Of COURSE they did. And I don't know any criminally-minded gunman that would think to jump over the fence to get where he was going.

Silly me to worry!

Now my older daughter goes to a school where there is, similarly, bulletproof glass between the person trying to enter and the actual lobby, office and classrooms. That is, if you go in the front doors. If you go in the backdoors, there are wonderful signs advising you that this is a gun-free zone.

Again, silly me to worry. Everyone knows that mad bombers and the like respect signs about not carrying guns.

I take back my earlier statement. I don't really think safety is our number one problem. I think it HAS been replaced by the previous number two - the general public having their heads stuck where the sun don't shine!

Eight isn't enough.... it's too many! (Especially when it's actually 14!)

I won't "piggy back" or "copycat" all of the posts, blogs, journal entries and media coverage articles and interviews that you have already - undoubtedly - grown sick of regarding the now-famous "octuplet mom".

I will just say that I hope you all will PLEASE use your God-given gift of good sense and NOT fill this woman's pockets by buying any potential books or reading any interviews or tuning in to see her defend herself on Oprah, Barbara Walters, Nightline, 20/20, Larry King or whatever medium she uses to satisfy her greed.

And, no I DON'T think it's unkind, unfeeling, unthinking or ignorant of me to say that she is being greedy.

She loves kids so much? She can learn that 14 is too many. She needs money to feed them and clothe them and get them medical care? She can stop going for implantations and start going on job interviews.

Today's worry list.....

Most people don't publish "worry lists". But most people aren't the expert worriers that I am. Honestly, if stressing over something was an Olympic event, I'd bring home all the gold. If obsessing constantly was a job, I'd be bringing in a six figure income. If.... well, I'm sure you see where this is going.

On my "list" for today:

Bad weather (which equals bad roads. Which equals me needing to bum rides because I don't drive on bad roads);

Being able to bum rides;

Money;

My Dad (Don't ask me why. He's 72 years old and, sometimes, I think he's healthier than I am);

Money;

My oldest daughter;

Money;

My unborn grandchild;

Money;

These stupid "dizzy spells" that won't go away;

Mon..... well, again, I'm sure you can see where this is going.

I'm sure tomorrow's list will be very similar. That's one of the reasons that I'm so good at this. I don't worry about a HUGE varied and diverse laundry list of things but, what I do obsess over is consistent and constant to the point that I've honed doing so to a fine art. Which, again, would benefit me if it were an income-producing venture. Maybe then it would provide the means to pay for the surgery to repair the gaping hole that it has produced in my stomach. That's only fair, dont'cha think??