Happy Independence Day!

I wishing all my friends and family a wonderful 4th of July -
Happy Independence Day.

Extra Strength Can of Whoop Ass

We had to have a full Tribal Council at True Blessings Estate yesterday. The "incident" was SOOOO heinous that we called in close friends and even went so far as to include the bio-parents. The torches were lit, the meeting held, options weighed and that ungrateful, disrespectful, disobedient, bumpin' unglies all up in MY DAMN HOUSE like Diamonique after a night on the pole, smart mouth, talking back & got jokes little heffa got VOTED OFF THE ISLAND!

Yep, you heard me. We sent one of our Princesses right back to her DADDY. Right back to the house she asked us to "rescue" her from. Right back to having to take the bus or walking to work, to having to get her own damn groceries, to not having wireless Internet or her own TV. BOO FUGGIN HOO!

The fall of a Princess started a few months back when we started smelling ourselves cause we turned 18 and were graduating from HS. You thought you smelt GAW and forgot that the FM and the TravelDiva don't play. NOT ONE BIT. You KNEW, you heard numerous conversations about how we felt about tats & piercings. Wasn't nothing we could really do about the tattoo you came to us with. Fine. I made the gas face but let it slide when you got the belly button pierced, but told you that if I see anything stuck in her lip, tongue, eyelid - matter of fact - anywhere on that face, that I beat dat azz.

HUMPH. Didn't hear none of those conversations, huh? You went and got your tongue pierced and then had the AUDACITY to cop an attitude when I told you to take it out or after I snatched it out your mouth, I would be cancelling the graduation festivities as I rinsed the blood off my hand.

"But the hole will close!" Did you speak to me!? Did you utter an irrelevant question at me!? I didn't give a rats patootie if her tongue rotted out of her head. Not my problem. Get it out or get dead.

A few weeks later, the FM went into her room (shyt, our room - I own everything up in the MF'er - and NO we don't believe kids have a right to privacy. You want privacy, pay for your own damn house!) looking for some gum she had that he liked a lot. Instead of finding gum, he found a used raincoat on the night stand.

ALL TOGETHER NOW.....EWWWWWWWAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!! NAAAAAASSSSSSSTY!

Family tribal council was called. The young dumb azz was called into the FireMarshalls torture chamber office. There was begging for forgiveness. There was tears. Apologies all around. Lectures given. More like a pass in my book, but the FM wanted to handle it. FINE.

Then yesterday the FireMarshall went out to the Naval Academy to help the midshipman we sponsor move back in for summer training. He comes home and goes into his office. He doesn't think anything of the the Prince and middle Princess being home in their rooms. So, he's working in his office and he starts to hear a thumping above his head. At first, he thinks it is our new kitten that is jumping around, but it continues and is rhythmic. He goes upstairs and tries to open the Princesses door. Locked. Hmmmm....and then it gets interesting. The FireMarshall says what he started hearing made him think he was listening to a Ex-rated chex movie.

You read right. The little darling was droppin it like its hot with all the associated sounds and verbiage of a professional. Now, the FM handled it with a calm that was unparalleled. Them two were damn lucky that I wasn't home. You know the nice lady gloves would have come off, I would have reached back to my kickboxing days and did a front kick to that door, kicking it in and commenced to beating the life out of those two heathens.

The ONLY people having chex in MY DAMN HOUSE IS ME AND THE FIREMARSHALL!!!!

I would have sent the two of those "I so fuggin grown" kids to hell the same way they go here - NEKKID. BLOODY. SCREAMING!!!

The FireMarshall threw the little baztard out of our house. After a tongue thrashing, the not so humbled Jezebel went to work. There was no blood - WHY - cause I wasn't there. The FM proceeds to tell her that the little wanker is banned from our house, cars & property. We will have another tribal council when TravelDiva got home. Mkay. This crackhead gonna pop back off at the mouth that we can't keep her from seeing her boyfriend - "That's just crazy and unrealistic." and that she was going back to work and would talk to us when she got home. This heffa then when and put on Twitter that she was thinking about not going home cause she didn't want to deal with the drama.

BYATCH WHAT!!!!!

Some CHILDREN play too much. The FireMarshall got a piece of luggage (I told him a green trash bag would work), called that child's father to figure out where she was going, because she was not staying here - in the MF'ing LAP OF LUXURY - talking like she grown and paying bills up in this fugger.

GTFOOHWTBS!!!!

...and then we gonna cop more 'tude cause we put your azz on the Scared Straight Program.

Uh Huh. Not 3 hours after she was back with her fathers people did she post on Twitter how fugged her life was because now she was right back where she started from.

Marinate in that for the weekend little miss hotness.

I got a call from Princess Erin today with the report that the fallen is boohooing and wanting to come back "home". She "hates it there, it just awful".

Marinate in that. Think on it for the weekend.

...and then on Monday, perhaps the prodigal daughter can come "home" having thought about her life, about respect and discipline, about how to guard her words and actions, about shame. Perhaps she can formulate an apology and plan of action that has some contrition & remorse in it...a response that is bereft of excuses and smart azz responses.

We will see.

Have you ever had one of your children get all buck wild, challenge you and forget themselves? Did you pull a Scared Straight? What did you do? How did it all turn out?

UPDATE: Princess Cara's Garden

We are gonna have watermelons & peppers! This little container garden
business is fun. Maybe next year I'll build a box garden of
respectable size. I ain't tillin' no soil. Weeding, yes. (get the kids
to do it). Tilling the ground - hell to the naw.

WATERMELON!!!!

HELLA FUNNY!!!!!

This has to be one of Geico's best and funniest commercials. I scream every time I see it.

Bwaaaaahaaaahaaahaaa!!!!!

Princess Cara Goes To The Beach

TravelDiva Rant #626

I am a person of my word. If I can't do something, be somewhere - whatever - then I just say I can't do it. If I tell you I'm CAN do something, be somewhere and so forth, then you don't have to check up on me, confirm, double confirm, send me a billion reminders - I SAID IT. I'M GOING TO DO IT.

PERIOD.

It yanks my chain, gets my panties all in a bunch and makes me otherwise not such a nice lady, when people say they can do something and then they come up with excuses as to why they now can't, just don't do it - no show, do the thing in question all half the fugg azzed, and/or - the worst - get all fuggin snarky with you about what it is they said they can do but actually can't.

WTF!?

I sent a text to a friend asking if they could talk for a bit. Reply was yes. They call ME. Put me on speakerphone and they get snarky about how they can't really hear me and I'm breaking up. They hang up on me. Mkay. I call back and ask "Did you have me on speakerphone?"

"Yes, I'm busy trying to do a bunch of stuff, so I put you on speakerphone so I could type, look at the computer and talk to you."

WTF? I replied, "Well, if you were so busy then why did you say you could talk. Nevermind then. I talk to you later."

Then they wanted to tap dance about how they were busy & not feeling well & busy, but can listen while I talk - "So, talk." they said.

I tried to be polite and ask about how THEY were feeling and what THEY were working on and I get a snarky response - "I don't feel like answering a lot of questions, so just talk."

After a few pleasantries, I got the hell off the phone.

HUMPH. You knew damn well that you didn't feel like talking. You knew damn well you had a gazillion other things to do. SO, WHY NOT DAT HELL JUST REPLY TO MY TEXT "NO, I CAN'T TALK RIGHT NOW. CALL YOU LATER" or something.

Don't get snarky with me cause you LET me interrupt whatever the hell you were doing when all you had to say was NO. What part of that is difficult...the N or the O. Hmmmm.

And another thing - don't tell me about how you are just an azz when you're not feeling well - that is just an excuse to exercise bad behavior. Excuses are like belly buttons too - everybody friggin has them. The trick is to learn to be polite when you know you have a azz hole trigger or learn to say NO (or otherwise keep from general public until such trigger is in check).

This ends my rant. Grrrrrrr.

I hope you feel better. When you do, then I hope we can talk again.

...OH! And that teen heffa that came into my home and said that she thought my kitten and his litter box in the basement bathroom was disgusting CAN USE THE BATHROOM AT HER OWN FUGGIN HOUSE...and in the words of The FireMarshall, can get the fugg out our house and stay out. My kitten LIVES HERE and is family and has his own covered bathroom in the bathroom. YOU DON'T. GTFOOHWTBS.

I hate some of those damn spoiled azz, pop off at the mouth any ole friggin way ain't never got their azz beat kids.

I swear ya'll gonna have to come bail me out of Jessup. I'm gonna shank a mofo in a minute.

Where is my tazer?

New Job Randoms from The TravelDiva

I got me a new gig as the Director of Sales for a Healthcare Technology type company. It's a small company so I'm more like the jack of all trades (Dir of Sales, Marketing, Training).


I am having a blast.


There is one MAJOR adjustment - after being in pharma sales for 20 years and never having to be in the same place all the time, having to report to an office for a 9-5 gig is just a major drag.


I have to now plan what to wear EVERY day. You see, as an outside sales rep, I could put on the same dag on suit (if I wanted) for the week - maybe change the blouse - because the same person never saw me twice in the week. Now I gotta THINK about what I'm gonna put on and thus far, I have been over dressed every day.


I just don't know how to do business casual - that includes jeans on any particular day of the week. The Queen Mother, who has worked in an office environment for over 30 years, volunteered to help me out.


Lunch. I have never, ever had to think about what I was eating for lunch. I was either providing a lunch at an inservice or taking a client out or something. Now, I got to pack myself a lunch - EVERYDAY - cause I'll be damned if I'm spending $10 a day downstairs at Joe's Deli and I ain't eating Taco Hell, KY Fat Chicken or ButBuster King either (which is within walking distance).


I am WAAAAY to organized and efficient and need to figure out how to slow my roll. You asked me to create a survey, send it to all the existing clients and get a response in time to compile a report for a corporate sponsor - we need this back in the next two weeks. Okay. I cranked that puppy out and sent it out to the first client, cc'ing the Executive Director.


She freaked. "Leeeeesa! I didn't expect you to do it so fast. I want to review all the questions first. OMG! Leeesa! I love you but you work so fast. Okay, don't send anymore out....blah, blah, blah....I'll get back to you tomorrow."


She don't know who she hired, does she?


Today I did the survey, called 15 clients, designed all the materials and brochures for an upcoming conference in July, designed the layout for the display stand and podium (which we don't have YET) and a few more random things all before 2pm.


That means I got plenty of time to occassionally play on FB, Twitter and catch up on my Google Reader. I have to remember to clear my history every day though. It NONE YA BEES WAX what I do with my time.


I have an assistant. DA HELL I'm supposed to do with an assistant. Today I had her take a tape measure and draw me a diagram of the office because we need to install 4 new cubicles (which I was asked to plan and design). That damn diagram was like an architechs rendering.


Now what to give her to do?

It is SOOOOOO friggin quiet in this offfice that I had to bring in a set of speakers so I could listen to the radio off my iPhone. Let's make some noise up in here.

I don't get paid enough, but the money will come when you are doing something you love...and I'm having the best time EVER in 20 years in the sales game.

Becca is a Triathlete!

Today, Becca completed her 1st EVER Triathlon!!!! Talk about proud. We acted a plum fool over this so much that GBaby and I were looking at each other and saying, "Why da hell WE crying?" But cry we did. I cried when Becca go in the water, held my breath the whole time she swam and when she got out of the water with her usual cheesin' grin, I lost it. I was boo hoo'in.

We couldn't boo hoo long cause I had to hump it from the swim area to the first place we could see her on the bike and as I reviewed the map I realized that if we didn't haul azz ourselves, we would miss her at 23rd & Virginia Ave. Robin & I ran from the far side of the Lincoln Memorial and up 23rd, realized that she was going to go under us, hauled through a park with two men doing "yoga?", hurdled the fence and made it with minutes to spare. GBaby & Pier fast walked it and made it just in time to see her go past.

Another Cheese Eatin' Grin. Becca was making this thing look easy.

We went up to GW Hospital, bathroom check & a Star.b.ucks break and we jumped on the metro to Federal Triangle to catch Becca at about the 1 mile mark on Constitution & 12th. We got there about 10 minutes before she turned the corner.

Cheese Eatin' Grin.

While she did the 2.1 more miles, the four of us humped down to the Finish and posted up for the grand finale.

And I started bawling again and couldn't hold the video camera steady enough to get video of the finish but I managed still pics.

Becca crossed the finish line at about 2hours 15 min with that grin that has suckered me into a many crazy things. She made it look like she could do it again right then and there.

Great Job Becca!!!!! YOU ARE A TRIATHLETE.

Well...I Finished

That is the best I can say about my showing at The Baltimore 10 Miler...I Finished...and DAMN PROUD OF IT TOO! I wasn't fast and I wasn't last. I finished 1687 out of 1811 women (in the top 93% - BWAAAAHAAAHAAA!!!) with a 5 mile split of 1:07:36 and a finish of 2:15:25. That's a 13:33 pace. YEP - slow as cold molasses but those hills were DOOOSIES!

The only thing that kept me going - especially at mile 8 1/2 when I looked up (see pic below) and that last 1 1/2 mile was totally up hill and I just wanted to say FUGG IT, CRY, and just mosey my way back - was my Pick-Up Pal, Tom. Pick-Up Pal is a "Global Rideshare Community" that the organizers of the Baltimore 10 miler used as a way to get us runners to carpool as parking was a premium at the Maryland Zoo where we started. Tom say my message that I was a driver and had space, contacted me and I had a buddy. Knowing that Tom was waiting for me at the Finish Line kept me moving.

...And he was right there at the finish waiting with a hug. He was a really nice young man - rising Senior at Towson studying Public Relations - not another potential axe murderer as my husband fondly describes many of my "FB & Blog" friends. Thanks, Tom, for the company, the hug and the support. I felt a little alone the night before having nobody on the course with me that I knew, but my Pick-Up Pal made it all okay.

Next up...the Rockville 8k Twilight Run Fest in July. WHEW!

Why Do I Do This To Myself

Well, tomorrow is the Baltimore 10 Miler. I haven't really trained
like I should have, haven't run more than 6 miles at a time, I'm still
slow as cold friggin molasses and let's not even talk about hills. The
damn death of me.

I could bow out with all my excuses, but naw...I've manned up and
decided that slow and steady - I can do anything. I might average
12:30 miles, but so be it. I'll finish.

Think of me between 7:30 and 9 am tomorrow. I'll need all the good
vibes I can get.

Baby Bangs!

Baby Bangs?! DA HELL! GTFOOH with this crazy mess. I am just DONE! A hair piece for bald babies?! For real doh?!

Don't let me catch not near damn one of you with this mess on you childs head. EVER!

My kidneys hurt from laughing at this mess. Just let me catch one of you...and don't EVEN get mad when I snatch you baby wig off. You know you are wrong.

...and now I know that this whole working in an office with your own big azz computer and the ability to multi-task and do more than one thing at a time is gonna be the my undoing. STOP posting this stuff (Kelly) and GET OUT OF MY INBOX.

Perhaps I should just log off?

First Harvest

Princess Cara and I harvested the green beans today! GO US!

I HATE to Brag...

I don't want to brag or make anybody jealous or anything, but I can still fit into the earrings I wore in High School.

I'm just sayin'. Don't hate.

...P.S. I need my friends to stay out of my inbox. I work in an office now and people can hear me bust a gut. I still haven't mastered the inside voice. That means you, KS

UPDATE: Princess Cara's Garden

Although we lost the broccoli - who knew you were supposed to pick it
before it bloomed, HUMPH, it wasn't worth picking - it looks like we
just might have a bountiful harvest after all.

We added Miracle Grow to our watering routine this time. I'm kinda
skerred I'll wake up tomorrow to mutant ninja plants.

AND NO, Terri, I will NOT be getting goats now.

Mom's Views from Senior Week

I'm back home from being the Kool-Aid Momma for Senior Week. I survived, but I'm tired as hell. The kids were great, well behaved (for the most part) but ya know I had to sleep with one eye open and both ears open to keep things on the up and up.

I only had to Release the Kracken a couple of times and like I said before, the "good" kids snapped to and corrected their ill advised ways while the ones who were looking for trouble scattered like roaches. I really hate saying this, but while managing 15-20 teens as well as the riff raff that came in from locations all around OC, I noticed that there is a significant difference in how black & white kids are raised and their reactions to discipline. You see, for the most part, the black kids are accustomed to getting yelled at, threatened with violence, beat down and respond accordingly with a "Yes, Ma'am" and behavior adjustment. The majority of white kids (except the ones with crazy azz white momma's like mine) look at you like you violated them, they want to talk back, give you the side eye and rebel more. They don't know that kind of bullish will only make a Momma like me INSANE and start crackin' skulls. I thought it was a fluke, but I had to warn way to many white kid that if I got another o_O about my instructions I would poke said eye out of the socket.

Go figure.

The other thing that just sent me over the moon, was these young girls thinking that there are absolutely no consequences to ho'in. That little hookah that decided to stay out all night with her MAN after explicit instructions were given that we were rolling out at 10am and if you ish wasn't packed then you was gonna get left didn't know who she was dealing with. I told them kids to put her shyat in a trash bag and leave it on the deck...if she ain't here, let her momma come pick her up for her MAN's crib somewhere in OC. DA HELL I LOOK LIKE.

Humph. One of the other girls was all sympathetic (yeah, I bet I know why wit your stank azz attitude and behavior too) and begged the Prince to go and pick her up. You BEST be glad he was raised right and showed some mercy cause if I was doing the driving (I was staying for the day with the Queen Mother) that heffa woulda been left 'splaining to her mother why she was not sleeping where she was supposed to be.

HO'ISH BEHAVIOR HAS CONSEQUENCES. I'm gonna need some of you little suziQ play ho's to wise up.

Why are girls just always require HARD AZZ lessons & a beat down. JEEZE.

The boys (Prince Jordan & his crew and Charlee's crew) that were on the trip all achieved their Young Men Badges. I was impressed by their respectful behavior, cleanliness & chivalry. These boys were raised right. They can be rowdy, loud and dabble in a little bit of shenanigans but if I gave any of them the o_O , scolded or asked them to do something - they were on top of it like stink on a dog.

I was so impressed. Why are boys just so much easier?

I got such a kick out of all the kids yelling - "MAAAAAHHHHHHMMMMMM!" in unison whenever I showed up. I'd be walking on the beach to try and take pictures or they'd catch me on the boardwalk and everyone would turn around like - DA HELL? All dem kids hers?. Funny.

All in all, I had a good time. Nobody got hurt. Everybody arrived alive...and they are still talking, telling stories and laughing about Senior Week 2010. I'm glad they had fun and it was my exhausted pleasure to be a chaperon.

Enjoy this video of some of my pictures from the week.

Random Thoughts from the Kool-Aid Momma

I am in Ocean City acting as the Den Mother to 15 18year old kids that just graduated from high school. Senior Week will be the death of me.

This is my second year at this...and I know why no other parent wanted to do the duty. It wasn't cause of work or whatnot. They just didn't want to see and deal with all these teens.

Fortunately, I can be equally the Nice Lady & that Crazy MF'n Lady you don't want to fugg with.

I love overhearing the kids say, "Don't fugg wit Ms. Steptoe, ya know she was in the Army and shyt. She'll fugg you up."

Damn Skippy.

I have been contributing to the deliquency of minors though. So shoot me.

Youth is wasted on the young. WASTED.

It amazes me how many young kids, especially girls, don't have a mother that will speak da truff to their face. Why did I have "church" up in here with some random girls and they were eating it up and asking questions like it was 1st time knowledge.

SMH. Gather round, girls, gather round.

I'm falling in love with some of the young men that are here. Young, yet respectful. Yes, Ma'am. Please. Let me get that for you, Ms. Steptoe. The young men are doing all the cleaning and keeping things straight. I am duly impressed. Some of these boys have been raised right.

Or, they have the fear of Ms. Steptoe in 'em.

I had to "Kirk Out" (new term?) tonight when the PO-LICE showed up taking about keeping it down. I went da hell off. And I mean like Bl.air Wit.ch friggin crazy off. I told them that if they couldn't keep it down then the party would be turned into a friggin (and I used the real curse word) boot camp and I'd be body slammin mofo's like they was my personal PT byatch. I'd make the Ar.my S.tro.ng look like pussies.

Maaaaannnnn. They calmed down PDQ. The riff raff left.

BTW...I did 25 clicker board pushups to the shock and awe of my charges at the Ar.my St.ron.g traveling show, got me my t-shirt and then flew an Apache in the simulator. HUMPH. I still got it.

I may be short. I may be plump...but I'm FIT FINE...and modest. Something that can not be said of 98% of the teens here in OC and several of the women of a certain age hanging here this week.

I'm just gonna say NO to the women over 40/50 with cellulite & vericose veins. Just cause your are thin does NOT mean it is okay to wear that bikini and let us see your sagging skin, veins and cellulite. It's nasty. You ARE NOT cute. AT ALL.

I'm just saying.

IlaGator and the Queen Mother are joining me here tomorrow. Now this should be fun.

Charlee's Graduation

23 Years Ago Today...

...I married my friend. Happy Anniversary! It still is a wonderful
journey.

We Choose Love.

The Scare

Last night I took Princess Cara to a Soccer League Tryout...doing my Soccer Mom thingy...and everything was just hunky dory. I had my lounge chair & book; I looked up at the appropriate moments to cheer and give encouragement; I gave the o_O to the soccer parents that needed a Valium (it ain't that damn serious); I chit chatted with the "normal" parents.

Cara came off the field during a break and said that her chest hurt and that she felt tired. I thought maybe she just had a stitch or cramp. We sat it out a turn, did some stretches, drank some water and she wanted to go back in. I let her. She was playing 2 on 2 and all of a sudden slowed down. Her knees buckled, hit the ground and she fell face first into the grass.

I was like a rocket out of the launcher going across the field to get to Cara. She was face down and when I rolled her over - her eyes were upon but she was unresponsive. I rubbed her sternum (maybe she knocked the wind out of her) to see if I could get a response and after a few seconds she started to look around and then started wailing.

I simply don't recall how in the world I was so calm.

We immediately went to Howard County General (which was about 1 mile away) and we began the journey to figure out what happened.

EKG, heart monitor, blood work, and a chest x-ray. After a little screaming over having her blood drawn, the nurse gave her this huge stuffed bear and we were graced with that a beautiful toothless smile. All the tests and NOTHING. Which is actually a good thing. I'm glad everything came back negative, but I also want to know why my baby fell out like that. The ER doc insisted that we take Princess Cara to a Pediatric Cardiologist and even made an appointment for us for 9 am this morning.

...did I mention we also had Princess Charlee's graduation today too. I'm running on fumes & Makers Mark right now...

Cara had another EKG & an Echo at the cardiologist and everything looked fine. However, because they don't like it (NOT GOOD) when kids just pass out during exertion the cardiologist wants to do a exercise stress test on Cara to try and recreate the event to isolate the cause. SIGH.

Princess Cara is running round the house talking about how "FUN" the 'ologist is and that she gets to play on his toys & video games. Uh Huh.

I'm glad she is doing okay and back to her usual mini-diva self. She sure has a knack for being a drama queen. She has the FireMarshall at her beck and call (prolly already had that) - she is definitely working the pout & doe eye "I'm sick" look. HUMPH.

I want to thank all of my friends and family (including my FB & Twitter fam) for all the prayers and well wishes - for the calls and texts. They kept me grounded & focused when I could have easily been a basket case. I'm still running on adrenaline and alcohol. ER, Graduation, Work, Graduation Party, Graduation Parties to attend and our Anniversary. The show must go on. Without all of you - I know it would be/have been unbearable.

Princess Cara is blowing kisses at everyone. "I feel better, Mommy!"

I think we are gonna give Karate and/or Dance a whirl this time.

UPDATE: Princess Cara's Garden

> The garden is making great progress. We have green beans forming,
> about 10 tomatoes, squash & zucchini looking fab...even the
> watermelon is doing good.
>
> Go Garden Go
>

Happy 23rd Anniversary to WP Class of 1987

Today is the 23rd anniversary of West Point Class of 1987 Graduation Day! Most of us were not even that old the day we graduated...and here we are. Congratulation to my classmates. Thanks for all the wonderful memories and friendships.

...and as a side note...in 10 days The FireMarshall and I will also celebrate 23 years of marriage. 1987 was a great vintage!

Happy Anniversary!

2010 USNA Herndon Monument Climb

We are very honored to be a sponsor family to a couple of midshipmen every year. When The FireMarshall and I were Cadets at West Point, our lives and sanity were saved on numerous occasions by the sponsor family we were assigned. They were a Godsend.

Well, we don't live close enough to sponsor West Point Cadets but we are close enough to the Naval Academy and when I found out they they have a Sponsor Family Program, we signed up. We always ask for 4 kids and every year only about 1-2 of them end up coming around. That's okay - the ones that don't ever come around - ya'll sure do miss out, 'cause you know we be the "KoolAid Momma House". We know how to have a great time over here.

This past year we were assigned 4 Midshipman and only one, Mohammad Kahn, ever took us up on the offer to hang out...and he does a lot. We love it.

Mohammad was over last weekend and he invited us to come and watch the Herndon Climb. I have heard about it for years; saw it on the news; but have never seen it for real. I packed up the camera bag and trekked out to the Naval Academy.

I got there early, got a great spot and waited TWO HOURS for the thing to start...TWO HOURS for a climb that took 2 MINUTE & 5 SECONDS. Why so short this year...cause they didn't even grease the dag on thing. Why, you ask, did they forgo YEARS of tradition...cause the Superintendent was dissatisfied and concerned with the possibility of injury associated with the climb and wanted to stop the whole tradition. BAH HUMBUG to the Vice Admiral. HUMPH. Sounds a tad wimpy and whiny to me.

N.E.Way...it was fun to watch and to see the joy on all the plebes faces that they were "Plebes No More".

Congratulations USNA Class of 2013 on officially making it to the end of plebe year.

Happy 45th Birthday to The FireMarshall

Today is my knight in shining armours 45th Birthday. Yeah, yeah...I'm always calling him my Knight - CAUSE HE BE. Now sometimes his armour is a little rusty and dented and his white horse is a tad dirty, but Ron is and will always be my Knight! THE FIREMARSHALL ROCKS! I had some classmates that he really enjoys seeing over for a little BBQ last night and we had a blast. Tonight is the 24 on the 24th Series Finale Party so we are just hanging with our friends.

I made this video for The FireMarshall's 40th Birthday...Enjoy.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, FIREMARSHALL.

I'm Gonna Go Broke...

...playing the gosh darn Tooth Fairy.

Tooth Fairy Economics

Princess Cara lost another tooth today. That sucker was hanging by a "thread" for days but she refused to let us get it out. Today, she had a grilled cheese for lunch and it came out. There was much fan fare and hoopla at the school as we had to go to the school nurse who had these little plastic treasure chests to put the tooth in so we could safely bring said tooth home.

Of course, Princess Cara came home squealing with excitement..."Mom! Call the ToothFairy!!" Followed by incessant questions..."Did you call? Is she coming? When will she come?" Sigh. I can't believe I am still at this kid game.

Then I started to get the serious questions...What is the going rate for a tooth these days? I hadn't the faintest idea...so I went to Google and after playing a couple of rounds of Pac Man (50th Anniversary) I found The Official Fairy Poll and the TFI (Tooth Fair Index):

With the announcement of the 2010 Official Tooth Fairy Poll ® , the “Tooth Fairy Index (TFI)” is showing that the value of a lost tooth is closely related to the U.S. economy. Much like the Punxsutawney Phil’s Groundhog Day weather prognostication, the Tooth Fairy Index is an indicator of the direction of the economy. Through the past decade, the Tooth Fairy Index has closely resembled the Dow Jones Industrial Average’s yearly trends. The graph below shows the historical look at more than ten years of history.

GTFOOH! Now I know. Now we all can know.

The National Average is $2.16/tooth. Thus, we have decided that since the cost of living is higher here in the DMV we would round up to an even $3. And since Princess Cara is a spoiled little Diva with GMa's running amok...she gets double. The Queen Mother has spoken and she added to the loot. She has a total of $6 now for that single tooth. Jeeze Louise.


And just in case you wanted to know about Global Tooth Fairy Giving around the globe. Check out the chart below.
The internet is a beast when inquiring minds want to know.

So, what is your The Tooth Fairy's going rate for a tooth around your way.

The Garden is coming along...

A Whirlwind Weekend

The madness that was this weekend started on Thurday with Princess Charlee's 18th Birthday. Unfortunately, I had to attend a workshop that evening so the Queen Mother and Princess Erin held down the fort with an evening of sushi & cake.

Prince Jordan, Heir to the Empire, arrived home from his first year of college (a solid 3.3 GPA mind ya) as well and by time I walked in the door that evening, he had his boys and a young lady (NOT FATAL ATTRACTION - thank God) all posted up in the home theater watching movies.

Wasting no time.

Friday night was Princess Charlee's Senior Prom and I was like a mad woman running all over town picking up groceries, wine & decorations for the Arch for the Pre-Prom Getting Ready & Prom Picture Party. I know I looked crazy when I walked back in the house. And to top it off, the kids decided that they didn't want to go out to dinner since there would be some food on the boat (The prom was held on the Star of Baltimore) and wondered if I would prepare some lite fare and/or dinner for them. Despite the fact that I cursed, fussed and mumbled under my breath, I whipped out some stuff and made a chicken & rice casserole and some mango salsa w/chips. I also made a pitcher of Side Cars to gird my nerves.

They didn't even eat. Sigh.

Saturday morning I got up and made Huevos Rancheros Omelets & Mimosas for the prom goers that managed to come in around 5:30am from the Post Prom Party at D&B. They ate that like savages. The rest of the day was preparations for Charlee's 18th Birthday Bash that was to go on that evening in my basement. Umm Yeah.

The party went off without a hitch. The music was WAAAYYY to loud for my taste, but then again I'm old and can't party like I used to. She had a DJ & a friend of Princess Erin acted as bouncer again. Shame when you need to have a bouncer...just in case. All was going well, they shut the party down around 1am and then...well...somebody just HAD to get all violent and loud. Some guy decided that he wanted to put his hands on some girl - the girl & her possee decided that they was gonna get loud w/some neck-popping and talk about whoopin some guy azz. The Prince was trying to corral people and get them to take it down about 20 notches. The bouncer was dealing with another crazy group on our front lawn....AND THEN...

It was time for The FireMarshall. Lawd Jeeeezus! The FM jumped outta the bed, put on a pair of flip flops & a baseball cap and went outside in his friggin pajamas and went all LOUD & OLE SKOOL on these kids. He yelled & cursed so loud bout getting the F$#K off his GOT DAMN LAWN, bout getting da HE -double L off his MFn' property, walking back & forth, throwing his baseball cap on the ground, practically foaming at the mouth - that a hush came over the crowd as if Moses had just parted the Red Sea. Teens started scrambling, fight didn't even get off the ground, all was okay. Prince Jordan's posse (Kevin, Kenny & Garrett) are standing behind the FM (with dey played to much beer pong selves) saying "Yeah Mr. Steptoe! We got your back! This is some buullshyat! Deyz ignorant!"

Umm, yeah boys. Stay back. Let the crazy black man do his work.

The FireMarshall comes back in the house and the posse, Prince Jordan & Princess Charlee's top mafia regaled stories about how they thwarted the rumble in the country.

I'm telling you right now, it was the BEST HOUR OF REALITY TV EVER!!!!! Pure dramady.

This morning I made CornBeef Hash Omeletes w/a Spicy Ketchup Sauce - served with hash browns & bacon and we all told stories from the weekend adventures.

I now have a short break until Princess Charlee's Graduation (June2), the Graduation Party (June4th) and playing Den Mother again for Senior Week in Ocean City starting on June 5th.

Kill Me Now!

So...how was your weekend?

...Socks is NOT the Baby Daddy

Sometimes I just have to get off the phone with The FireMarshall cause he is just a mess. He says things with such a dead pan way and it is so damn funny and ridiculous at the same time. So, The FM is on the highway to Indiana to pick up the Prince (who, btw, had a fabulously successful freshman year...but I digress) and I call him up to tell him about the latest Character Drama unfolding here at True Blessings - we ARE TNT - we KNOW drama.

TravelDiva: You won't believe this, but that stray cat that has been coming around visiting with Socks went and had herself some damn kittens and they are under our sunroom.

FireMarshall: What? Da Hell You Say. Call Animal Control and don't be feedin dem babies, ya here.

TD: Ummm, okay...but they are so KEEEEUTE.

FireMarshall: I don't care how cute them kittens are. Socks ain't they baby daddy so it ain't our 'sponsibility. See. Now I know why that ho been coming round trying to hook up with Socks. Saw his crib; all living in the lap up luxury and whatnot; eating on gourmet cat food and ish - thought she was gonna get in on some of that action. That right there is some kinda gold diggin cat.

TD: I'm done with you.

FM: Uh, Huh. I know the score. Thought she could come over and try to hem Socks up with a litter of babies. HUMPH. But I got her number. Socks is fixed. HE IS NOT THE BABY DADDY to those kittens. We not raising no stray kitty babies. Call Animal Control and don't go all soft on me with it ain't dem babies fault - they gotta eat - business. Get em on the phone.

TD: I'm hanging up now. How you know that cat is a gold diggin ho, anyway? You wrong.

FM: *I can feel him looking over the top of his glasses as he says this* Socks IS NOT the Baby Daddy.

TD: I'm going to introduce you to mister click up. Bye now. Click.

You know The Royal Cat just looked up at me like "He right ya know. Them ain't my kids and I'm not sharing."

Animal Control asked me to leave a message and they would get back to me. Uh Huh. What to do? What to do?

Just one of Those Days...

It's just been one of those days, maybe even a series of days where shyt was just happening and it wasn't all hunkie dorey.

My headset to my phone broke. Just up and died. While to some of you who think that a head set is rude and unnecessary, I think it is an absolute necessity in order to be hands free; in order to utilize my iPhone to the max without holding it up to my damn head; in order to hear the dag on thing ringing in the nether regions of my purse - cause I got kids and ish. Yep, I'm essential personnel and a broke headset just pissed me da hell off.

After 15 years of use, my treadmill just decided to up and fuggin die - right in the middle of speed work. It really does hurt when you go from 8mph to ZERO instantaneously after the moter decided to say fugg it and stop. Pretty sure I'm gonna have a mark. Mad about it.

I'm about sick and tired of some of my family - you know, those people considered biologics - gonna get all serious & huffy and start talking bout all the "things" they have done for "their" kids. GTFOOH!!! Just GTFOOH!!! Exactly what have you done? When? No, SHUT THE FUGG UP and cough up that $50 we asked for to spend at the prom. SAY NOTHING. Just dig in your damn wallet and fork it over before I find me a blow torch and a pair of pliers.

Sigh. Relax Relate Release.

I am mad about it that the coach wouldn't believe that I would send a check so the Prince could bring home his lax gear. I had to transfer 2 cnotes as a deposit so he could bring his gear home for the summer. (The Prince is hoping to coach some lax camps this summer). Ummm, I'm going to need a full ride coach. FULL RIDE.

I have dandelions instead of grass...Princess Cara keeps picking them and bringing them to me as a bouquet of flowers. Damn

The Royal Cat lost his friggin mind and decided to spray his essence all over my damn antique hope chest that my maternal grandmother gave me. That little fugger was just about to go to the damn pound, PDQ.

Today is trash day. Guess there were too many rib bones from the Graduation party this weekend. All of our trash cans were knocked over and the bags ripped asunder all over the gosh darn yard. I had to get a pair of gloves, pick it all up and put it back in the trash before they came to pick it up. Disgusting. I was mad about it.

And people wonder why women self medicate...my vice of choice: A Side Car & cigar. Happy Hour don't get here fast enough in the day.

Happy Mother's Day!

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My Mother

This is one of my most favorite pictures of my mother and I. May 24th, 1987 - Graduation Day from West Point. The first time I put on my Army Greens. My first salute. The day I realized that my mother and I were more than mother-daughter: we could finally be friends.

My mother was never big on that whole "be a friend to your daughter" thing. When I was growing up we didn't hang at the mall together, I didn't call her by her first name (it was Mom or Ma'am), I didn't sass her or talk back (especially if I wanted my permanent teeth to remain permanent) - my mother was god. I respected her. I feared her. I did as she expected me to do.

I tried my mother on many occasions - especially in high school. I may have been top of the class but I ran the street with the best of them...yet, my mother JUST KNEW how to handle me. She was the master of psychological warfare. No yelling, no hitting. NOPE. I would come in 3 hours past the time she set...she would be sitting in the dark at the top of the stairs, just waiting. I'd get to the top of the stairs - she would be sitting there. She would say NOTHING. Mom would just stand up, go into her room and shut the door. The next day, week, sometimes a month (depending on how long I could hold out) she would not speak to me, let alone look in my general direction. I used to yell at her, "Would you just beat me, please!?" Nerp. Silence. Disappointment. Shame.

I would snap to and behave just so she would speak to me again.

I loved my mother and I wanted her approval. I wanted her to be proud...and I know she was.

My mother is a woman of few words. She leads by example and just does.

My mother STANDS. Stands in the door. Stands strong. Against the wind. Against Adversity. She STANDS.

I believe I get my strength from her. My fierce Independence. My sometime twisted sense of humor. My ability to STAND myself when all seems to be lost...I get from her.

That day at graduation, 10 days before I was to be married - we became friends. Nothing formal. Nothing spoken. It just was. I was an adult. She felt she had did all she could. She had done well and now...let the party begin.

I am blessed that my mother is still around. She lives under the same "roof" with us. (We live in the old & busted section of our home - she lives in the new hotness section). I see my mother everyday. We travel, decorate, plant, plan & plot together. At my lowest moments, I am blessed to have her here - even if it was just to have her sit with me while I cried. More importantly, she is here to revel with me in our success.

She doesn't say much - doesn't interfere or give her opinion unless I ask for it - but she is always here for me...for us.

I love my momz.

I know sometimes she feels that she missed out on some things and life has dealt her some hard blows. Yet she STANDS. But as God is my witness, I have tried my darnedest to create some experiences and moments that make great memories...and we still have more to come. I promise!

I love that picture of us...some 23 years ago. We have the same eyes. The EXACT same smile. I am my mother's daughter. I believe I am what my mother wanted me to become. The daughter she worked so hard to raise.

I love my momz and I hope she knows and feels it.

Happy Mother's Day, Sandra. May All Your Days Be Blessed.

DC Confidential

Yesterday, I had the opportunity to participate in a fabulous event with a group of fun and lovely women.

...and that is all I can say about it right now until August since we signed our lives away to the stricktest confidence until then.

Trust that it was fascinating and a complete blast. I'll be back with more pics, details and film in August. Stay Tuned.

Happy Cinco De Mayo

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Race for Hope - DC

Today, about 8 of us joined Gladys in running the Race for Hope:DC - a 5K run to raise funds in the fight against brain tumors. This was the first time Gladys had ever run a race - and ever RAN 3 miles non-stop. She had set a goal to run, joined a group that trained beginner runners and today was the day to put all that training to the test.

Now, when I signed up, I did it quickly and didn't really look at the information regarding the purpose of the race. I just wanted to get registered so I could be there to support Gladys. When The FireMarshall and I arrived to pick up my race bib, we noticed a West Point Tent. We went over to investigate - thinking that maybe there were some cadet team entered. Come to find out, it was the tent for 2 Class of 84 grads who lost their son to a brain tumor.

Hence, Race for Hope - Make a difference in the fight against brain tumors. My father died 10 years ago from a brain tumor. I hadn't thought about it much lately - and it just hit me. This race suddenly took on even more meaning for me. I found a "In Memory Of" bib and The FireMarshall helped me put it on.

We were off and running. We never left Gladys and she ran the WHOLE WAY...the WHOLE WAY.

I know I can speak for everyone else in the group - We are so proud of Gladys and her achievement of her goal. GO GLADYS!!!

Enjoy the video of the race...

Princess Cara's Garden

My girlfriend Terri has been on me for years to start a garden. The FireMarshall's father tells us every time he see us that we should start a garden with Princess Cara. HUMPH. I've always said to both of them..."Come build it yourself."

Terri was gracious enough to send me a book on container & box gardening and I've been leafing through it. Not as much fun to read as, say, Goat Husbandry - you had to have been there for my reading of this riveting tome - but my interest was peaked.

Finally, after Princess Cara brought home a bean that she had started sprouting at school and just went on and on about her plant, I broke down and decided to start a container garden. Momz and I trekked out to Bi.gL.ots and got a bunch of large planters and some top soil and then we stumbled on Bi.g.Joh.n's Farm and picked us up some plants. I spent a total of $13 dollars at this place and got 2 tomato plants, 1 market pack of watermelons, 2 market packs of green beans, 2 of yellow squash, 1 broccoli and 1 of peppers.

I had NO IDEA how much hard work it was to plant some damn containers. Four hours of work and I was absolutely exhausted. Princess Cara supervised and watered after every container was done. It is done.

Now, I need to get Terri on the phone and coach me through this "growing stuff" thing. Ummm, how do I keep the deer out my plants? Miracle Grow? What else should I know to get this stuff to grow and actually have something to eat? ...and if it all does grow...who da hell is gonna eat all of this stuff or did I plant just the right amount for us? HELP, TERRI, HELP! What da heck did I get myself into. Sigh.

Still, there is a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction in "building" this...and right now, all Princess Cara can talk about is her "garden". It makes the exhaustion all that more exhilarating.