Camp Rehab

>Editor's note: I wrote this back in July but never posted it. Please, enjoy the rant!

I went to New York. I moved to a new house. My son has developed all kinds of neuroses (?) neurosises(?) neurosi (?) crazy new personality ticks due to the move. I went to the beach. I am supposed to be searching for grants for Pillow Academy. I have slacked off in every aspect of my life. I never forgot about you!

My friend, Paige, wants me to chime in on the trendy super hot spot of the moment - rehab. I should title this entry: Rehab and the idiots who go there for publicity and not to get the real help that is offered. Prison is a close second on the celebrity top 5 summer respites.

What is there to say about Lindsay, Britney, Paris, Mel Gibson, Nicole and her alleged fetus that hasn't already been satirized and made fun of by absolutely everybody. Apprarently, you're nobody until somebody plans an intervention for you.

Did you see Alec's brother, Daniel Baldwin, on that ABC special report? His rehab place looked like a spa. I could use a rest and I'd like to go where the action is hot, the therapy is cool and the sincerity is lukewarm. Sounds kind of like camp. How's the food? Could I get a tan there? Can I study Kabbalah? Make a lanyard?

I'm so there!

Those Who Can't Do - Teach at Community College

I go back for round two of college for the feeble minded. I am the epitome of a college intructor gone wild in my utter lack of knowlege and ill-preparedness. I am so tired with worry at having to teach four classes full of young adults who don't know how to string a proper sentence together or spell but who are excited that they are in college. I don't quite know how to help them and it makes me sad, as well as, mad that I don't have enough information about the courses I'm teaching to fill an hour's worth of time.

On a lighter note.... How about that Brittney? Think she'll lose her children? Did you see the picture of her without her wig?

Those who can't do

Do you remember the movie, Coal Miner's Daughter? Do you remember the scene where Loretta Lynn is about to have a nervous breakdown on stage? Just before she collapses, she gives a little speech about how her life has always moved too fast. She tells her fans that her daddy told her that she had to run her own life and if she didn't, her life would run her. She tells everybody that one day she was just a little girl in the holler then she was married at 13 and then she started having babies and now she's up on a stage talking to her audience. That's just like my life except for growing up in the Kentucky Hollers, being married at 13, having four babies by the time I was 20 and oh yeah, I don't sing.

But I fear my life is running me right now.

All I know is that I was driving home from the beach last Sunday when I got a frantic call from a teacher at our local community college saying they were desperate for a remedial English comp teacher. She asked if I would like to jump in and start teaching the following week!!!

I have never wanted to teach. Never. Ever. Never!!!! I think teaching is a noble, high minded profession. It's just not anything I ever felt compelled to do. And now Mississippi Delta Community College is enlisting me to teach college students the basics of English Composition and by the way, could I do another class? It's reading. Reading - for college students!!!! What the hell?

After much soul searching and screaming to Super Steve that I can't do it. I relented and said I would because (a) it's only two half days a week in Greenwood;(b)it's more than double the meager money I made at the book store for 4 half days a week and (c)it's a challenge and I'm a sucker for ways to make myself crazier than I already am.

I don't know the first thing about teaching and I certainly don't know the first thing about teaching college students who didn't get the basics of English in the first place. I want them to love the power and beauty of a well written sentence and I want them to understand noun / verb agreements and what a preposition is and that it can't end a sentence. I want them to want to read for pleasure. I know that won't be the case. Even I never wanted to read required reading books. There was just something in me that rebelled about being told I had to do something.

Wish me luck. I hope I can find a way to make the classes palatable and interesting. I hope they don't eat me alive and call me a fraud. I start tomorrow.

Next entry: I will discuss why I went to NYC. Bring your notebooks because there may be a quiz.

Camp Rehab

Editor's note: I wrote this back in July but never posted it. Please, enjoy the rant!

I went to New York. I moved to a new house. My son has developed all kinds of neuroses (?) neurosises(?) neurosi (?) crazy new personality ticks due to the move. I went to the beach. I am supposed to be searching for grants for Pillow Academy. I have slacked off in every aspect of my life. I never forgot about you!

My friend, Paige, wants me to chime in on the trendy super hot spot of the moment - rehab. I should title this entry: Rehab and the idiots who go there for publicity and not to get the real help that is offered. Prison is a close second on the celebrity top 5 summer respites.

What is there to say about Lindsay, Britney, Paris, Mel Gibson, Nicole and her alleged fetus that hasn't already been satirized and made fun of by absolutely everybody. Apprarently, you're nobody until somebody plans an intervention for you.

Did you see Alec's brother, Daniel Baldwin, on that ABC special report? His rehab place looked like a spa. I could use a rest and I'd like to go where the action is hot, the therapy is cool and the sincerity is lukewarm. Sounds kind of like camp. How's the food? Could I get a tan there? Can I study Kabbalah? Make a lanyard?

I'm so there!

This is for you, Lisa Lisa

My friend, Lisa Melton, threatened me yesterday at the crawfish boil that I had better write a new post by the time she checks this blog again or ELSE! So, me being a little scared of Lisa, (she does Tae Bo) I heeded the warning. Checking 1.2.3...is this thing still on?

Cavitt is out of school. Lucy will be out on Friday. Summer is waiting with promises of lots of margaritas, fun and summer romance - Shoot, I forgot I'm married. Who hasn't had the Grease fantasy of summer loving even if one is approaching the inappropriate age being way too old for that movie? Maybe Super Steve will put on a leather jacket and sing to me like he's Danny to my Sandy.

Guess who's going on a trip to NEW YORK CITY this weekend? ME! I'm heading up north for a long weekend for a special visit with a special someone and her friends and I have a super special meeting with someone incredibly special. Isn't that special?

I will reveal all when I return from my weekend. I'll give you one bit of information - my long time friend, Ashley, is going along. She had better not drink a bunch of wine and start talking smack about me in front of these new people. She's been known to do that. I'd hate to start a brawl in the presence of gentle folk. It's important that they see me as the sweet, delicate, petite flower that I am. I'm guessing putting Ashley in the atomic sleeper would taint that image.

There's a hole in my foot

Who knew free-lance journalism could be dangerous? All I was doing was touring a new bedroom addtion for a story on home renovations when I stepped on a long sheetrock nail that went all the way through my thick wedge heels and punctured the ball of my foot. Are you cringing?

Don't worry that's normal because the woman who owns the house is a nurse and she looked ill with the idea of a nail all up in my foot. When I keeled over into a newly mudded wall holding my foot all I could manage to mutter was "Nail! In! My! Foot!" She kind of just stood there for a couple of seconds trying to process what I said while I was trying to figure out how to pry my shoe from my foot without a claw hammer. I had sheetrock mud all over one hand and I was still clutching my pen and paper in the other.

Finally, I handed her the paper and prepared to feel the nail slide its way out of my delicate foot that was desperately in need of a pedicure! It didn't make me feel too comforted that she was pretty grossed out by the situation.

But she took care of me by making several phone calls to various doctors around town because my doctor's nurse suggested I go to the emergency room for a tetanus shot. That was the most painful part of the day. The thought of sitting for hours in an e.r. and then getting a crazy bill for it was more than I could bear. I was prepared to suffer Lock Jaw if I had to go. Fortunately, my doctor got back to the office and I quickly got a shot and went back to work.

I'm clearly awesome and a dedicated pro and now I must put my foot up and hope dinner makes itself because the pain is setting in and I most definitely cannot do housework for at least a year!

Lil' Cavvy Cav gettin' jiggy wit it

Lucy and Cavitt's favorite restaurant is La Pinata, not because the food is muy bueno but because they have cheap toy machines that are as addictive as crack. My babies are completely hooked on draining Super Steve and me of every quarter in our posession because, Look, you can get a pinky nail sized plastic puppy dog or a sticky hand or a high-bouncing ball or best of all - fabulous jewelry!

Super Steve and I enable their addiction because (1) it keeps them busy in the foyer of the restaurant where there is a very slight chance they will be kidnapped to Tiajuana and (2) it gives us a little more time to drink our margaritas in peace. If they never outgrow their obsession and have to go to a special Mexican-Restaurant Cheap-Toy-Machine Rehab then we, as parents, must attend Cheap-Toy-Machine-Anon meetings. I'm hoping it's just a phase and not a gateway to more expensive pursuits like the mechanical crane that fishes for plush toys. I don't think I could handle that!

The last time we went to La Pinata, Cavitt got a gold necklace with a dollar sign pendant. He was so overjoyed with his luck that he declared he couldn't wait to get some black pants, black shirt and black shoes to wear with his new jewelry because that outfit would make him super cool. When did my son become a rapper?

The Secret of my Success

I work at a great independent bookstore called Turnrow Book Company. It's something I thoroughly enjoy because I am exposed to so many books and we get advanced copies that the owner let's me take home to read. It's an easy little part-time job that I can forget about once I step over the threshold and I like that. I'm making a little pocket money and no stress is involved.

I also got to interview Grisham when he came in November and that was a thrill even though I'm not a big fan of his work. I was a Kappa Kappa Gamma at Ole Miss with his youngest sister. Of course, back then I didn't know her brother would be "John Grisham, world-wide best selling author" In fact, I didn't think she could possibly have any relative that could be very literary. She was, to put it delicately, a little rough around the edges.That's why when she told me her brother just wrote a book, I kind of shrugged and wondered if her brother was doing a how-to book about shotgunning beer or killing something.

She took me to her room to see a review a local paper did of "A Time to Kill." I didn't think too much about it until much later when "The Firm" became a best-seller and I recalled how I didn't make a big enough fuss about her brother back in 1988. Too bad I wasn't clairvoyant enough to buddy up with her and become her BFF so I could go to the movie premier. Oh, the regret!!!

Last night, the bookstore hosted three authors while debuting a new second story porch that patrons can lounge on with a cold beer in hand while browsing a book. Kevin Sessums, Vanity Fair and Allure magazine editor and now, #35 on the New York Times Best Seller list, read from his new book Mississippi Sissy. Sonny Brooks,an Alabama author, read from his unfinished manuscript. Davids Adams Richards, author of Friends of Meager Fortune, read from his book and Steve Yarbrough, End of California, introduced everybody. It was so great to hear people read from their own books. These people are at the top of their game and I was in awe and a little jealous because that's what I want be. I want to have a book with a real cover with my name on it to read from. This is my way of practicing "The Secret" I am putting it out to the universe and now I will attempt to do the work to make that happen. Thank goodness I didn't have to actually buy that crazy book to learn that bit of wisdom. I do something I call my daily "Secret" I Ching.

I grab the book off the shelf and randomly open it to see what the universe wants me to know on that particular day. Yesterday I found out that if I want money I have to visualize it and speak about money as if I have a lot of it. I had to say things like, "Money is no object for a big spender like myself." "My pockets are jammed full of mad money." I gleaned from those wise pages that I should just order the new Gucci bag I've been admiring on the internet because acting like you have money attacts the money molecules. That purchase shows the universe I believe I am rich and we all know rich people attract money. That's why they're rich. So by believing I am rich, speaking like I'm a millionaire and carrying the accessories of the rich will make me...a broke idiot. That's the real secret.

I give and I give and I give

Hi! I'm tired but it's been a whole month since I posted so sensing that my audience (yes, all two of you. Hi, mom!) was withering away without benefit of my profound insight, I am forgoing The Search for the Next Pussycat Doll, and instead I am putting a little somethin' somethin' down for your enjoyment.

See, I'm a giver!

My lack of posting wasn't an intentional snub. I've been so busy and mentally very,very lazy! Everytime I wanted to post, I would crawfish. I didn't feel confident to thread together a coherant sentance much less a paragraph.

I have wanted to post about everything from civil rights to Britney in rehab; from depression to an event that forever re-shaped how I perceive life and death. I never felt I could do any topic justice, especially the seriousness of Brit's predicament. You don't just gloss over Miss Spears' spiral into madness. You've got to have your facts straight and your theories about her bizarre behavior well thought out. I simply couldn't get myself together to do it.

Why? Life, baby, Life - that's been the problem . Real life and all its boringness has sucked my will to write right out my heart, hands and mind. I've been busy cleaning this little house of mine so I can sell it and get one where I will live in for the next 10 - 50 years.

Cleaning may not sound like much of a hassle but the Cookstons and their lively little dog live like happy little piggies in a sty. No serious buyer would want our house if they happened to pop in on us with less than 24 hours notice.

The amount of trash and clutter that accumulates in our home in one day is staggering. I can mop and vacuum but a few hours later, one would never know we owned either household tool. The laundry, the sheets, the KITCHEN, Oh my Lord, does it ever end????

To top it all off, I despise household duties and I get ZERO satisfaction from doing my chores. It would be different if I could bask in the beauty of my clean and orderly house but NOOOOO, as soon as Frick and Frack get home from school everything I worked so hard to get done gets undone.

Where's the glory? Where's the beauty? I'll tell you where it is...it's under Capri Sun wrappers and Doritos bags. It's under the rocks that Cavitt pours out of his tennis shoes onto my freshly mopped floor. It's under the filthy clothes that get tossed carelessly wherever they get peeled off. The glory is outshined by the sparkly watermelon flavored toothpaste caked to my kid's sink and counter. The beauty is marred by the pee and poop on my rugs. I can't take it!!! Please buyer(you know who you are)Hurry! and purchase my house so I can stop the insanity of trying to be a compulsive cleaner.

Now that you know the reason for my vacation I promise to update at least 4 times a week no matter what! That's quite ambitious, you may think. But you know, I'm a giver!

And what have you been doing?

Got a dog yesterday named Biscuit. It's technically Cavitt's puppy that we picked up from the pound but he and Lucy have tag teamed this poor rescued mutt with so much love, hugs and constant attention that Biscuit probably wishes he wasn't such a lucky dog. The shelter probably sounds like a spa to little Biscuit about now.

Somebody stop Britney Spears from total ruination!!!! Somebody stop me from caring!!! Poor kids. I've been in desperate straits before but I didn't freak the freak out like Miss Spears is intent on doing in front of the whole damn world. Why in the world did she have babies just one year of each other and marry such a weasle-looking loser? Why won't she just get some help?She needs some one on one with Dr. Phil and Oprah - maybe they could straighten her out.

Watching her meltdown is like watching O.J. drive slowly down the highway with about 10 police cars behind him. I just can't look away even though I know I should just to preserve my own dignity.

Anna Nicole and Xanax

Goodness, it's Thursday night and I have so much to share...where do I start?

I flew to Phoenix last Friday and boy, are my arms tired, plus, my nerves are shot!!!! I hate to fly but the trip was so, so fun. Did you know that fat people aren't allowed in the Phoenix/Scottsdale area? They let me in on a special visa. I felt very special and very large!

On the way to Jackson to get to the airport, I was feeling quite anxious, so I remembered I had a friend who had Xanax. I called her and she said, "Sure I'd love to be your drug pusher come right over. "

When I got there, her husband said she was in the shower but it was all right to go on back. Not anxious to see my friend all nekkid, I hesitated but she assured me her nekkidness was all hidden behind the shower curtain. I'm real shy about seeing other people's bits and parts.

My friend, okay her name is Ann - Ann Fann - it really is! Shut up about how funny that is. What's even funnier is her full name, including maiden name, is Ann Little Fann. Doesn't she sound like an Indian Princess? Well, while Ann's all lathering up in the shower, she yells to me, "Just look in the bottle on the vanity. Do you see the pill all marked with bars?"

I think to myself, Yes, I think I do and dump the contents out.

"Break off one bar of the pill. You'll relax," said Ann.

So, I pick one part of the pill out of the jar that has already been broken off - I think. It looks like what I'm supposed to be looking for. I popped it off in my mouthreally fast because I was really anxious.

Then Ann yells through the fog, "Wait until you start to board the plane before you take that or you will be OUT!"

Oops, too late for me!

So I said "Thanks" and left. I got in the car with Super Steve and left for the airport. I waited for the calming effects to take place. About 30 minutes down the road, I started to get a little nervous... Did I even take the right pill? Was I going to pass out and then what? Was I Alice in Wonderland waiting to get bigger or smaller.

I confessed to Super Steve that I went to Ann's house for Xanax and warned him to watch me. I waited and waited but the only crazy side effect of my acid trip was that I thought I heard constant Anna Nicole updates on CNN. Surely that was just the drug because for a prestigious news channel to only be concerned about Anna Nicole Smith's five possible baby daddys and untimely death would mean I was trippin' hard core - right? Other than that -no other side effects. No tiredness. No sluggishness. Just a constant drone of Anna Nicole Smith coverage.

I would rather have passed out but through the placebo effect of Zanex I arrived in Phoenix unharmed and without a hangover! I just had the strangest dream of the Bahamas.

Cavitt Said

My son, Cavitt, is days away from turning 5. If you know this child or if you don't, he is the personification of CHEERFUL. He wakes up in the morning declaring, THIS IS THE BEST DAY EVER!!! He once told me I was the starriest star of the most beautifullest mommies. That was the same day I said, "What is it that you want? I'll get it for you," as I melted into a puddle on the floor from sweetness overload.

No, he's not always happy, happy, happy. He whines, stomps his feet, yells LOUDLY, he's kind of a slacker for a 4 year old but even with all that, his usual operating mode is quite simply - HAPPY. He's also very naturally very funny! He's like my little wind up toy that I just sit back and watch. I am endlessly entertained by him which is so ironic since I really disliked him for the first 4 months of his life. I had post-partum depression and that is a post for later. I promise to talk about it but first I want to relay three exchanges I've had with Cavitt recently that have tickled me!

#1
(Scene: Lucy, Cavitt and me drive by Little Red School House Park.)
Lucy: Mollie said there used to be a school there but it burned
Me: Yeah, It was there when I was little.
Cavitt: What kind of school was it?
Me: It was a school for, uh, mentally challenged; retarded children
Cavitt: But it burned??
Me: Yes.
Cavitt: Did you go to school there, mama?

#2
Me: Go with Daddy to Dollar Tree because I need to rest
Cavitt: You don't feel good, do you, mama?
Me: No, I feel kind of sick.
Cavitt: Do you have chicken pops?
Me: No, why do you ask if I have chicken pox?
Cavitt: Because of all those red dots on your face.

#3

Cavitt: Mama, Can you sing Oprah?
Me: What?
Cavitt: Can you sing Oprah?
Me: What's that?
Cavitt: You know, (does his best warbley falsetto voice) Oprah, like grown -ups sing!!!!

Whining and wine

There's been a minor ruckus in the mothering world that started with a blogger named Melissa Summers of http://www.suburbanbliss.net/ She wrote about playdates and having a cocktail or two during said date- not for the kids but for the adults. When I read her post, I thought "Now, that's my kind of playdate. We could be friends." But, alas, she lives in Detroit.

I didn't think too much more about it because where I live drinking is a big part of socializing. If there is free time and I consider having children and their parents over as "free time" then I am probably, more than likely going to offer the other mother a glass of wine or other adult beverage if it's 4 p.m. or later.

Plenty of people have had a lot to say about Mrs. Summers post - some pro, and some vehemently con. The cons thought the children were in danger, that they were going to become alcoholics, at best and crack addled prostitutes at worst. Then, about two weeks ago, Summers was invited to be on the Today show where Merideth Viera asked her what the difference between a mother and a paid baby sitter were and the debate raged on whether mothers could be trusted to drink responsibly while caring for their chillun'.

What's funny about all this is if they were in living in Mississippi especially, in my neck of Mississippi, there would be no debate. Somewhere, we, as parents have become so neurotic about our children's little psyches, self-esteem and perfection. My opinion is that my children have joined my world. They are an extremely precious to me and because of them I try conduct myself in a way in which they can be proud. They are always formost in my mind when I make big decisions. But, I also strive to create a harmonious and loving marriage with my husband. I try to live a life pleasing to God and make a good name for myself within my community and in my professional life. I also like to have a social life with my family and without because I am a grown up.

People down here don't do a lot of reading about child rearing. Either you raise your children right or you don't. You don't have to follow the latest baby experts teachings in order to raise a little genius or ensure they get into an ivy league preschool. Plenty of mothers breastfeed because it's said to be superior to the bottle. They love that they are bonding with their babies in a way that is uniquely their own. I applaud those mothers and I know a lot of them.

Then there are terrible mothers, like me, who didn't breast feed. I felt it to be a bit creepy and I hated being the only person between my baby and the abyss of a starvation. I didn't even consider letting my children share a bed with my husband and me. They just had to cry. I never did flash cards drills with my children . Never. Not once. I do, however, read to them.

Guess what - they seem to be alright so far. Lucy is a first grader who is sweet and is one of the best students in her class. Cavitt is bright and happy, with no attachment issues because he wasn't fed from my breasts.

As mothers, we have so much to fret about. Are we raising our children the best way? Are they getting the right nutrition? Are they normal? Is 8 years old too old not to be potty trained? You know, the normal worries. I try to keep things in perspective and not worry what the latest parenting trend may be.

First and foremost, I want my children to feel secure and loved. I want them grow up to be independent thinkers and doers. I want them to have friends and do well in school. I want them to develop of a love for God. I want them to be able to mix me a good stiff drink. If I want to drink in front of my children - so be it. They live with me.

People in the rest of the country may say we in the South are small minded and poorly educated but I'll pit my honor student against their honor student any day. I don't need Brooklyn, Park Slope, intellectual hippie mothers to tell me the best way to discipline my child. I'll do my best - right or wrong. They can go protest disposable diapers or find their baby a milk sibling (see: http://www.babble.com/content/articles/features/personalessays/baumgardner/breastfriends/ ).

I have fond memories of my mother coming to kiss me good night after she and daddy had been to a party. I remember the sound of her charm bracelet tinkling in the darkness as she leaned over the bed. I remember inhaling the faint smell of bourbon and cigarettes mixed with perfume and mink. It was an exotic, festive aroma that clued me in to a world that I wasn't old enough yet to experience.

I don't think I was too screwed in the head from knowing that my parents drank socially. I was a witness to some of their livlier parties and I remember having a great time running around with the other kids while our parents laughed loudly from the other room.

Listipalooza with Extra Listy Goodness

Music I love right now:
Cat Powers' album The Greatest
Joseph Arthur's album Nuclear Daydream
Justin Timberlake's single What Goes Around Comes Around ( my secret shame)

Books I'm reading:
Mississippi Sissy - Kevin Sessums
Liar's Club

TV shows I watch to nourish my mind and deepen my spiritualality
The Real Desperate Housewives of Orange County
Top Chef
Wife Swap
America's Next Top Model
Project Runway

Times I was almost killed taking carpool this week:
1

Times I thought You Tube is awsome this week:
4

Times I thought You Tube is the vehicle in which the anti-christ will make his grand entrance:
too many to count - does everybody need 15 minutes of fame?

Times I thought MTV is be the downfall of civilization:
6 - especially when I caught a couple of episodes of Next and My Super Sweet 16

How often I have googled my own name this week:
1 and it was lame

What came up when I googled "what Lisa wants"
more control; a family; to bang Mike and practice her Arabic...mmmm I never knew.

Funniest website I've read in a while:
www.thingsmyboyfriendsays.com

Take me to your plastic surgeon

What has happened to everybody's face? Well, maybe not everybody's face but Hollywood faces and rich lady faces? It's like women of a certain age with means are morphing into other worldly creatures and listen up, they are taking over.

They have listless, impossibly doe-eyed eyes that don't shut completely. The better to peer into your soul and steal it with. They have potruding, razor-sharp cheeks bones that have been lifted to new heights. The better to shred your self confidence with. Their skin is smooth and has a phosphorescent glow from so much glycolic acid. The better to spot others like them so they can start a new colony on earth. Their lips are pouty and plump. The better to suck out negative thoughts from people who wonder if that look is a little too over the top.


Prime examples of the new E.T. look are:

Nicole Kidman: weirdly pixie-ish


Janice Dickinson: evil super model weird


Joan Rivers: just plain wrong and weird


Melissa Rivers: following in her mother's footstep's weird


All the Desperate Housewives: weird, weird, weird and desperately weird

Even Paris Hilton is weirdly hot. Is that pout of her's real? It was such a relief to see Meryl Streep on the Golden Globes. She looked normal and beautiful - So did America Ferrara (?) and whoever Jennifer Lopez goes to is doing a great job. She's beautiful without looking crazy.


See, if Hollywood and the rich are doing these things to their faces it won't be long until it reaches the masses. Imagine a country where all the women have the same expressionless face. Is this just a new way of keeping women down - by using vanity to keep us from speaking out and using our voices? When you speak out, you frown and that causes wrinkles.

I watched Taxi Driver the other night and I noticed how the 1970's standard of beauty is so different from today's. It doesn't even match up. Cybill Shepard is georgous but she has thin lips, a long nose and by today's standards - large hips. If some Hollywood executive were casting this movie today, he would probably get someone like Scarlet Johanssen who is beautiful. She has the pouty lips, large breasts and no hips that are in vogue. Robert DeNiro would probably still be cast in his role at the same age he is now.

I'm not saying all plastic surgery is bad. I had a breast augmentation 13 years ago but that was different because that was me and we're not talking about me and if you could have seen how flat I was you would have contributed to the fund. But enough about me, I'm making a point about other dillusional people. All I'm saying is that aliens have landed and they all go to the same plastic surgeon.

Little Miss Supermodel

My 7-year-old daughter is a self-described "tom-girl" and "girly girl" all rolled into one. I call her Ellie Mae Clampett because she loves all critters great and small.

She has never ever been afraid to pet a stingray or sturgeon at the aquarium. She proudly posed for a picture holding a small alligator in Natchidotches, LA. Anything fluffy, scaly or slimy is beautiful in her eyes.

Once when we were replacing the lining on the pool, somebody found the largest spotted bullfrog I had ever seen in the wild. It stretched from my middle finger to my elbow. That's an eyeball estimate because I was not about to get that close to a vicious, blood sucking amphibian but Lucy was fascinated. She immediately plucked it from the man's hand and galloped over to show me. On the way over she kissed it a few times. As I threw up in my mouth a bit and tried not to scream like a scared sissy, I marveled at her bravery and loving spirit.

On the other hand, she's lately become obsessed with super models and their suggestive poses. She came into my room and pulled up her shirt, sucked in her stomach and stated that this was a supermodel tummy and then she let out her breath and told me that her tummy was a kid's supermodel tummy. Then she asked me if hers was good kid's super model tummy.

Later at bath time as she was getting undressed

Lucy: "It's okay if supermodels take pictures with no clothes on because they do this." She strikes a demure pose with her hands placed strategically over her nonexistent chest and her legs crossed.

Me: "Why are you so interested in models. I thought you wanted to be a vet."

Lucy: "I DO want to be a vet but what if we're walking down the street and a man with a modeling business tells me I should be a super model?"

Me: "You tell him thank you but you've got better things to do - like school."

Lucy: "But what if he tells me I HAVE to do it because I'm so beautiful?"

Me: "We'll figure it out when it happens. Bathe!"

Lucy: ( insistent)"But he says I have to."

Me: (Taking advantage of a quality learning/ character building moment)"Do you want to do that? I think it's more important to go to school. I'd rather you be smart and kind. You're already beautiful. You don't have to prove it and I never want you to do something like that just because someone says you have to. You don't!"

Lucy: "This is how a supermodel poses in a bathtub." She sucks in her cheeks and poses on her side making sure to cover up certain body parts and looks vapidly off into space.

Me: "Guess what, I'd better not ever catch you posing naked (nekkid)! Think about school!"

I remember wanting to be plucked out of obscurity by someone saying I just had to come with them because I was so special/ beautiful/ talented. I hope she always feels so confident about herself because she is beautiful and wonderful but if I ever see her in some pictures, naked as a lima bean, there's going to be hell to pay or at least a lot of money involved!

New Year, New ways to fool myself

Well, well, well it's time to get serious about New Year's Resolutions. I like to give myself about a two week window of time to get serious about the new year. It's important for me to be well-rested before getting all resolute about a random list that's supposed to make me a better person. I have a long list of things that I have been trying to accomplish for what seems like forever but I really think 2007 is going to my year!

"Why this year?" You may ask.

Because I believe in the tooth fairy, magic, that Oprah can see me through the t.v., plus, I have the optimism of a pampered pekinese puppy!

There's always the "lose weight" resolution. Only 10 years ago I wanted to lose 10 lbs but really any punk can lose that. So I held off. This year I have a real goal - lose a whopping 30 lbs. Let the games begin!

Write more - become the next David Sedaris or Amy. Um, maybe I'll just just write something, somewhere. Do bathroom stalls count?

Read more and not just PerezHilton.com. I plan to read loftier things, like "People" or "O.K.", maybe something more European like "Hello" for a little international flavor.

Be a better person, blah, blah, blah.

This list is boring perhaps this year I should:

Gain more weight in the new year. Have more eating contests.

More laying around on the couch and read more "In Style" magazines or Lane Bryant catalogs, Tell the kids to be quiet while I think about dinner with my eyes closed.

Learn two or three great drink recipes. Teach Lucy to become my personal mixologist. Get Cavitt to start wearing a tuxedo and ask me what I would like for a snack.

Make some new friends on the internet who are into ninjas. Buy some throwing stars and stealthily hurl them at my husband when he's not acting right. Hmmm...he might be into that.

Learn to bend metal with my mind.

Check back to see how I'm doing.

The time is ripe for writing

I promised myself that in 2007 I would start a blog. I am starting something that my husband can't quite wrap his head around because he is much more reserved, private and dignified than I am. I am going to start something that most of my good friends think is a colossal waste of valuable drinking time or story-watching time. They think reading blogs is something like watching for UFOs. It's a perfectly fine past time for wild-haired, scruffy people who mutter to themselves as they walk down the street but do you really want to ask them to speak up so you can hear?

Well, by the grace of the sweet baby Lord Jesus, here it is! My blog. My wild-haired, scruffy mutterings. My record of my inner voice / voices that won't let me sleep at night. I think it's going good so far, don't you?

What? Why is your forehead wrinkling up that way? Why are you looking like that? Don't go a away. I really like you! Sometimes great genius takes a while to settle in. Give it a minute or a decade. Call me!!!

I got the name special funny from a movie that I can't remember the name of or maybe I heard it somewhere...an Asian sounding man says in a whiny voice, "You think you so special funny. You not special! You not funny!" Anyway, it's really funny the way it plays out in my mind. You should hear it. If anybody could tell me the name of the movie then I could get some rest.

I live in a small town in the Mississippi Delta. Greenwood is home to the blues, catfish, lots of poverty, Viking Ranges and a whole bunch of funny, crazy fools that I call friends. I am a free lance writer and I work part -time at a bookstore. I have a wonderfully sane husband named Steven and two children: :Lucy, 6 and Cavitt, 4. My sweet angels are very good looking, super intelligent and special funny. They are a source of great entertainment and frustration- -so's my husband. He doesn't really like me talking about him because, like I said, he's real dignified-like and he has a respectable career. Please read the following disclaimer:

Any thoughts, words, quotes, intellectual musings or lack thereof are mine and do not in any way, shape or form reflect Steven's thoughts, ideologies, private fantasies, morals, etc., etc Amen. My husband shall be henceforth and everafter referred to as Super Steve in this blog. I take responsibility for all content posted here unless I've been drinking and then I blame the devil, who looks nothing like Super Steve. I don't even think they've met except at the bottom of a glass of cognac but that's a story for another post.

P.S. I put money away weekly for future therapy sessions that my children will probably require to come to terms with their maternal issues. If you would like to contribute, email me.