In Fond Rememberance...........

In the family of my birth, we can obviously laugh at some pretty strange things. Things that make outsiders cringe. Things that people don't always understand or get. Things that bystanders can't believe we just did or said. Inappropriate is a way of life. In that spirit, I want you to laugh at this post and admit that it would make great National Lampoon fodder.

Like the time my mother had just returned from vacation, sporting a new ring of Rubies, Sapphires and Diamonds, while visiting my sister. My sister asked "Whatcha got there?". Mom responded by covering the ring with her other hand and chuckling "Nothing, what are you talking about?". Sister dear counted with "You know, that ring that I am going to have to pry off your cold dead finger." Mom laughed - hard. My sister's MIL (an innocent bystander) almost chocked in shock that such a thing would be said. A few years later that's exactly what my sister had to do and we all laughed ourselves half to death when it happened.

The night before Mom's funeral my siblings and I gathered at my brothers home. We were enjoying being all together (living states apart, this doesn't happen but every few years), reminiscing about childhood and all the memories of old stories from our adventures growing up. We thought it would be nice if we could come up with a great story about Mom to eulogize and share at her funeral. We sat poolside having a few beers and coming up with stories to tell. "I got one, I got one" we took turns saying, and as we got closer to the end of the story remembered that it didn't end well or was something that couldn't be shared publicly among Mom's friends who really didn't know us. These stories had us laughing ourselves silly, but would only garner gasps from those assembled in the church.

We came up with at least a hundred different gut busting family stories. Not one of which was appropriate for public consumption. We tried to edit the stories, but they only lost their charm and humor in the process. The bests parts were the worst actions. Even on our way to church to next morning we were still trying to brainstorm. Only to come to the conclusion that none of us would eulogize. We would leave it up to a friend of Mom's who volunteered.

Arriving at the church and being greeted by a friend of Mom's who helped to plan these things, I let her know that none of us would be speaking. "I understand, many times the family is too broken up. I will have (the volunteer) do it". Yeah, let's go with that. So, during the Mass, when the time came the priest announces "I understand that one of the children of the deceased would like to say a few words now".

Crickets.

*Do not make eye contact*

Crickets

*look directly at shoes*

Crickets

*gasps of disbelief from those gathered. 95% of which do not know us*

Crickets

The silence is too much and the 4 of us start to snicker uncontrollably.

*More gasping about what awful children we must be*

Finally the priest moves on with "I guess not. I understand a friend of the deceased would like to share a few words". And she did. She delivered a beautiful and kind eulogy. The kind of eulogy that made us look even worse than we already did.

In the end, Mom gave us one more funny family story that is not fit for public consumption. But heck, it's out there now. And we know that Mom and Dad both were laughing right along with the 4 of us. They get us, even if no one else does.

SideNotes: 1.) I am still working on my Stupid Human Trick since Mrs4444 crushed the idea I was working on with Monkey Weasel.
2.) I want to speak at BlogHer(why? why the heck not) and need to submit a post to speak about for consideration. I don't know which one I want to submit. It's up to you to stalk my archives and vote in my comments.

Tag, I'm It!

Okay, so Mrs.4444 has tagged me with this meme and is harassing me about not completing a "Stupid Human Trick" necessary for her to accept and pass on an award I gave to her a while back. I am working on it and you will all see it soon.

So anyway this meme involves going to your 4th picture folder, selecting the 4th photo, post and explain. My pics aren't stored in folders on this computer. They are stored on the family desktop and only an handful are even on this thing and certainly not in folders. So, I am doing the next best thing. I'm am grabbing the 4th random photo from the 4th random storage area in my dashboard. And here you have it:This is Smallest Weasel being kissed by Boy Weasel on her 1st birthday, when she turned 4. Huh? what? You don't understand? This picture was taken on February 29th, 2008. Smallest Weasel is my Leap Day Baby! Being that we only get to celebrate on the 29th every 4 years and it happened to fall on a Friday, we threw her a huge 1st Birthday party with all of her friends and their families. Her GodMother flew in for the weekend and we had a great time. Smallest Weasel had the best time and her favorite presents were a Strawberry Shortcake inflatable chair and a gift bag filled with boxes of Kraft Macaroni & Cheese (she loves the stuff).

Stay tuned for a stupid human trick and now I am going to tag 4 more poor suckers. This one is easy, so can you just humor me?

1. Seashore Subjects ~ Check this gal out. She is a dear friend of both Nonna and I who just got the bug and started blogging. Let's build her a nice readership.
2. NukeDad @ Nuclear Family Warhead ~ because getting tagged with memes seems to annoy him.
3. Oscar @ Oscar's Tavern ~ Because he satiates my thirst before I get the shakes.
4. McMommy @ The McMommy Chronicles ~ Because she doesn't shave her legs when traveling above the Mason/Dixon Line in December and I hope she has a pic of it!
   

Fickle, I'm so fickle!

I'm not moving, but I am. Yeah, try and make sense out of that one.

I have my .com from Santa and am going to use it. Right. Here.

Switching to wordpress and separate hosting is costly and confusing.

I'm a tech moron. Blogger is blogging for dummies. Blogger is for me.

So I am going to pimp this place out. Actually Nap Warden, with a side of Charity is going to pimp it out.

You will be able to read me at worldofweasels.com or at worldofweasels.blogspot.com

Same site, 2 routes. Pimped out and custom. With Yellow (Mrs.4444 misses the yellow, as do I).

So link to me anyway you want. Just as long as you do link to me ~ love me the link love!

And read me. And laugh. And comment about how funny and awesome I am. I like that.

Get Those Reindeer Off My Lawn!

While surfing around this wonderful invention of the internet(thanks Al!), I have come across posts referring to the aftermath that Santa leaves in his wake. It always looks like a Tornado has run through the living room and the cleanup is something FEMA will not even attempt to help with.

My Dad, in particular, hated when things were that messy. It unnerved him to no end. He loved Santa and the two of them were very close. I never understood this until much later in life (about 12). It took me that long to get it because every year on Christmas Eve as we were getting ready to climb the stairs and await our sugar plum dreams, Dad would get his rifle out of it's safe keeping and say "there is no way I am letting that guy leave his mess in my house this year". Little did we know that it was a BB gun he was wielding as he would threaten to shoot Santa if he even tried to come down our chimney. We would beg him not to hurt Santa., as he double checked that all the doors and windows were locked.

Mom would lead us up the stairs. Tears streaming down our faces while reassuring us that she would unlock the door without Dad seeing. Intermittently as we tried to fall asleep, we would hear Dad yell, "he better not try to get in this time! I'm ready for him this year!"

Eventually, we would fall asleep. And every year without fail, Santa was able to foil Dad and get in to leave his mess anyway. And every Christmas morning Dad would chagrin about how Santa got past him.

As cruel as this may seem, the older we got the more we appreciated it. Once we realized the irony of Dad's behavior, we too had to laugh. It is now one of my favorite memories of Christmas from childhood.

Now if you are still wondering where I developed such a twisted sense of humor, this blog is not for you. My family tree has lots of branches, but they are all twisted and gnarled.

Moving

I have moved! An unlike my biological family, I'm going to give you the address. World of Weasels.com . Please meet me there for a drink. If I am lucky enough to make your blogroll, please update. If I am not that lucky, please reconsider. I think you can even deduct me on your taxes as a charity case in the link love department. And as always, thanks for coming by and I hope you have a world of fun at the World Of Weasels.

Well that Was Fun!

I hope that you all had a wonderful, peaceful and joyous Christmas. Here in Weaselville it was better than we could have wished for. The days leading up to the festivities were crazy busy. The weather was awful with snow, sleet and ice and we still had places to go. We hadn't been to see Santa yet so that was top of the agenda for the 23rd. We headed to the mall to find that he was busy 'feeding the reindeer', so we took the opportunity to try and get some last minute shopping done while we waited. When Santa made his return, we noticed that he was just one of those 'pesky helper' Santa's who wasn't even a little bit convincing. Luckily, I had overheard that the real Santa and his reindeer had flown over to a different mall. That's where we headed next. Once again, upon our arrival, he was 'feeding the reindeer'. We waited in line for an hour anticipating the big moment. Smallest Weasel was extremely excited and also on her best behavior ever. When it was finally our turn and the big guy asked what she wanted for Christmas she responded "Twinkies". Santa said "okay then" and continued to smile for the picture. I would post the pic, but the disk they offered only works with Windows. Santa should switch to Mac.

Early Christmas Eve, Mr Weasel and I headed out to tie up some shopping loose ends. We had trouble leaving the driveway because of the new fallen ice and snow, but get out we did and left instructions for the bigger Weasels to shovel while we were gone. When we were done with our errands Mr. Weasel dropped me off to help with Patsy's driveway and he headed home to relieve the Weasels of ours.

There was still wrapping to be done and dinner to be made. All to be finished before we went to Mass, and it was. We came home after and put on our pajamas and off to bed before the big guy hit the eastern seaboard. His elves had a busy night ahead of them while we snoozed.

As the Weasels woke and came to wake Mr. Weasel and I, you could measure the excitement on the Richter scale. Smallest Weasel announced to me "Santa came and brought me Twinkies!". "I don't know if he brought you Twinkies" was my reply. "He brought me Twinkies! I just know he did!" And sure enough, amongst he pile of presents to open were Twinkies in beautifully wrapped paper and a bow. All of the Weasels seemed to get just what they wanted for Christmas. Monkey, along with other items got another Pooh Bear(her all time favorite) and a Heffalump. Middle Weasel and Boy Weasel discovered bikes parked next to their booty pile. Eldest Weasel received her own set of make-up and a compact. She no longer will have to use mine. Mr. Weasel opened up RockBand2 and Mystery Science Theatre 3000. Santa left me some new union suit style pajamas, wonderful sundry items(like chocolate) and MY OWN DOMAIN!!!!!!!! That's right folks. Santa brought me Worldofweasels.com! I am still busy getting that set up, but will post in both places for now and soon I will move there completely.

I don't know how he did it. I take that back. I do know how. He has some pretty faithful and dedicated elves. Thanks to all of their hard work, The Weasels had a wonderful and magical Christmas. We thanked God for giving us His Son to bring hope an joy to the world. Then we played RockBand2. For hours. In our pajamas. Before we knew it we had to start dinner, still in our pajamas. We had a great day filled with fun family time and playing with all of our new gifts.

We had a delicious dinner of London Broil(personal favorite of mine), baked potatoes, fruit cup, salad, mushrooms, wine and pumpkin pie.

It was a quiet, relaxing and Joyous Christmas. It's just what I wanted.

Back To the Funny

Reading this post at the McMommy Chronicles, triggered a memory from of a Christmas visit 10 years ago. My Mom had come to spend Christmas with the Weasels. The night before her flight home she wound up in the hospital with a bad case of pneumonia and a 2 week extension of her of her visit. No, that's not the funny part.

The hospital that she wound up in was about an hour drive from our house. I would visit nightly after Mr. Weasel came home from work (oh, what a good daughter I was). He would get home about 7 pm. We'd talk for 5 minutes then I would drive out to visit with Mom and bring her dinner and anything she needed. I would stay until about midnight before making the drive back home. About a week into this routine, a blizzard hit. We had in excess of 2 feet of snow and I couldn't get to the hospital for about 3 days.

In that time Mom developed a bad case of chapped lips. With my not being able to bring her any Chapstick, she asked the nurse to bring her something instead.

When I finally was able to shovel out and get back to our nightly visits, she asked me to pass her "that stuff for my lips" from the nightstand. I didn't see anything. "there it is. Right by your hand." I still didn't see any lip balm. "There. Right there!" she started to become frustrated that I couldn't complete such a simple task. "This?". "yes, that's the stuff! Give it to me."

I burst out with laughter like a hyena as I passed my confused naive mother the tube and watched her apply K-Y Jelly to her lips. "What are laughing at? This lip balm is great!". It was worth the drive.

Parenting Moments That Take your Breath Away II

With all the abundance of snow on the ground here and a little bit of leisure time, Mr. Weasel decided to take Weasels to our favorite sledding hill. He packed up the sleds and snow boards, bundled up the gang, loaded the car and off they went. While I stayed behind to take care of the loose ends.

He took a different route to avoid the traffic of Christmas shoppers and wound up making a wrong turn. Assured the kids that it was "No big deal, I made a wrong turn, but I will just turn around. We'll be there soon".

From the back of the car, Smallest Weasel in all of her 4 years of knowledge announces "Daddy Fail!"

If you don't get this go visit Fail Blog and you will.

What a Wonderful World

With only 4 days until Christmas Eve, life around here has been pretty busy. I do not think I will stop moving until Christmas morning. I have not started wrapping at all. I still need to take inventory and make a list of the things I still need to pick up. Middle Weasel and I are working on a special surprise gift for all the Weasels and still have many hours of work ahead of us. I better get on the ball. The cookies are finished and have been delivered. That is one of my favorite 'chores' at Christmas time. I had great visits with my neighbors as I came bearing cookies. I also managed to receive the biggest compliment and most heartwarming gift from a dear friend.

Patsy is a dear friend and neighbor happens to be the mother of one of my best girlfriends. She lives alone, with the exception of her best friend Lady, who is the best and sweetest dog ever.

The Weasel family enjoy both Patsy and Lady very much. Patsy is not in good health and we try to look out for her. The kids will shovel or run errands and in return Patsy is like another grandmother to them. They love to play with Lady and visit. Last summer patsy was hospitalized and Lady came to stay with us for what was expected to be a few days. It turned out to be closer to 2 months. We didn't mind in the least. We really enjoyed having her here, but also wished for Patsy to get well and strong soon. The kids have been begging for years for a dog. The answer has always been no. I love dogs, but do not have the time or patience to go through training with one. I always told them, "If I could have a dog like Lady, I would", she is gentle and well trained. She doesn't bark, except when she is supposed to. She is my kind of dog.

Anyway, it has always been Patsy's wish that when she passes that Lady be buried with her. Last night, that was my final stop with cookies. I save the best for last as I know that Patsy always has a cold beer in the fridge for me and scotch for her and we visit for a while. During our visit Patsy very sweetly and sincerely told me that she has changed her wishes. That in the event of her death, she now would like Lady to join the Weasel family. She told me that she knows how much we love her and how much Lady loves all the Weasels. I hope it never comes to that, but with how much Patsy loves Lady and vice versa, that was about the biggest compliment and the nicest gift I could have received. I am Thankful.

I have a lot to be thankful for. Yesterday, thanks to many of you, and especially Big Bad Daddy, Michael's Daddy and NukeDad, I received a gift of $250.00 for the Weasel Christmas. Most of all, it was the gift of friendship and caring that touched my heart. I wish I knew how to ~but can't figure it out no matter how hard I try ~ make an award badge to hand out to these fellas. It would picture a weasel and read "Screw the whales, we save WEASELS!" and "I am a great friend and I deserve an award". But since I can't make a badge, this is as close to an award as these fellas are getting, but I mean it from the bottom of my heart.

I am also thankful for my teenager (yes, and all the Weasels). In this post complaining about teen angst, Michelle commented to the effect of my scaring her about raising a teen. "And you're really making me want to send the wee ones to boarding school when they get to the teenage years. There has to be some redeeming qualities right?". Yes they do. She is a great kid with a awesome funny sense of humor. She has an academic scholarship and is a successful athlete. All teens are teens, but I appreciate her being her even more today than just a few days ago.

While on the phone with an old friend far away, I was filled in on all the scuttlebut of the old neighbors. It turns out that a former preschool playmate of Eldest Weasel, at the ripe old age of 15 is pregnant and due in February. This made for a loud wake-up call as to just how good we have it with Eldest. Mr. Weasel had been highly aggravated with her eye rolling lately. After hearing this news he gave her a great big hug, beamed with pride and said "I Love You!"

Let it Snow?

I know a handful of people who have never seen snow. They seem to think it's some kind of mystical, Christmas card kind of playland. Most want to see it and play in it at least once.

I must admit that a nice calm snowfall is a beautiful thing to watch. As you sit warm and cozy indoors and watch through a window, it does have a magical quality about it. It can also be very fun to play in for hours. It's a great way to spend time with the kids and be a kid again yourself. That is, when you have nothing else to do and have the luxury of playing in the snow.

The common realities of snow usually go more like this. You wake up to 5 inches at 4 am. Not enough to close schools. Better get out and start shoveling for the next 2 hours, just so you can get the car out of the driveway in time to get the kids to school. It's about 4F, the wind is blowing and it's dark. You now start your workout for the day, there will not be need to go to the gym today (not that I ever feel that need).

As you are working up a sweat, your ears are in danger of cracking and breaking off, even under your hat (damn that wind). When you get about 2/3 of the way done a snowplow will barrel down the street clearing the road and dumping a wall of heavy, slushy, snowy ice about 2 feet high at the bottom of the driveway. You curse out loud and continue with your work. After about an hour and a half you get to that ice wall and think that your back will never forgive you. Once that is done you head inside to warm up and take off your wet snow covered clothes just in time to put them back on and take Eldest to school. This will be a fun ride. The plows have cleared the snow, but not the layer of underlying ice. You get to play Russian roulette with your brakes!

Once everyone is delivered where they need to be you finally get into the nice warm house and a hot shower. After getting dressed, you trek back out to the grocery store for a few necessities. You know, the stuff you are supposed to bring to the classroom party and completely forgot about. After the check out you get to carry the preschooler ~she's wearing pretty shoes for her school party~ while pushing a cart to the car through slushy yucky muck.

After the school day is done, there is no time to play in the snow. Not even counting that it is only 10F and too cold to play outside anyway. Homework, dinner and dress the gang for the school Christmas concert. Back through all the muck again. At least the roads are improved.

Back home and everyone off to bed. Wake the next morning and reach for the Ben Gay, realize that you shoveled the driveway but never got back to do the sidewalk. See on the news that there is an ice storm in the forecast for today/tonight. Curse again and say forget it. I'll have to do it again tomorrow anyway.

The moral to this story is this. Let it snow, let it snow, let it snow is only if you have no place to go. Other than that, it can stay on your Norman Rockwell Christmas cards. Maybe Santa will bring me a snow blower. Nah, I haven't been that good.

Christmas Traditions In Weaselville

While I was driving Eldest Weasel (whom the other Weasels have recently dubbed 'The Wicked Witch of the West) to school this morning, I was thinking about what today's post would be about. I asked her what her favorite thing about the Christmas Season. Is it going to mass on Christmas Eve? or our family gift exchange? Or decorating the tree? Do you have a favorite ornament? Or Christmas song?
"The only thing you do is bake cookies. That's not even a tradition."
"Ummm, yes it is. Most of those recipes have been in my family for generations."
"Well, I like to eat the oatmeal lace."
"Is that it? Just eating them? Do you want to make some yourself this year?"
"I dunno, maybe."
Being 14 and in High School, she has naturally become too cool to hang out with the rest of us. She regularly threatens the younger Weasels with "I'll get you!" I always correct her and tell her she has to finish the statement. She then continues with "And your little dog too."

Christmas traditions that Mr. Weasel and I get to indulge in and enjoy during this joyous season include but are not limited too:

1. Listening to the Weasels ask "when can we decorate the tree, it's only been up for a week???"
2. Changing Smallest Weasels sheets almost daily and she is wetting the bed with Santa anxiety.
3. Going "Damn!", when we receive gifts from family in the mail and realize that we hadn't even thought about that yet.
4. Going "Damn!" when we receive Christmas cards in the mail and remember that we haven't even taken a picture yet and that Aunt Rose will fly out and kick my butt if she doesn't get on this year.
5. Going "knock it off!!!!" as the excitement filled Weasels run around the house like it's a dog track with pent up 'Christmas Joy'. I should buy hamster ball in their size.
   
6. Answer the question of how many days until Christmas 45x daily.

We love Christmas here and this is just part of the fun and magic of it all. I never liked the Wizard of Oz very much, but I think it may become a new family tradition around here.

Tiarra Wearing Bloggers Go Shopping!

A few weeks back Melisa wrote this post @ Suburban Scrawl, spelling out just how much she dislikes everything and everyone at her local super mega low mart that is where she does her shopping. I have been there and have to say she is right. It is a miserable experience.

I laughed myself half to death at her expense and suggested that we do a blogger outing to my local grocery store. The one that gives Disney world a serious run for the title of "Happiest Place on Earth".

We agreed to meet up this past Friday, at the only place that made sense for Tiara wearing bloggers to meet, Claire's. This way we could sift through the racks for clearance priced tiaras. Just because we're princesses doesn't mean we're not frugal! We had the store to ourselves with the exception of the 3 employees who were looking at us strangely as we tried on every tiara in the place. We donned our tiaras and headed for Woodman's (the SUPER market) where we would shop like royalty. Mr. Weasel would meet us there with the video camera and we would get a v-blog out of the day.

Being women that have our priorities in order, we decide to start in Woodman's liquor store while we wait for Mr. Weasel to arrive. They have a great selection at least 4x the size of any grocery store liquor department. We peruse the aisles giggling like school girls stalking the cute boy in class. I became downright giddy with laughter when Melisa popped with child like excitement at the rare find of 'He'brews ~ the chosen beer'. I totally lost it with laughter and all I could say was "you guys even have your own beer?????". For a woman who 'doesn't drink that much' she sure is passionate about her booze. This lady knows what she likes.

I call Mr. Weasel to see what's taking so long "I'm on my way out the door". I can handle this, as we only live 2 minutes away, and Melisa and I move into the wine section. We laugh at the names on the labels(Wiener Dog White and Kick A** Red, just to name two) and debate whether or not to pick up some Manishevitz just for a laugh.

*Don't tell Melisa~but she and her tiara were attracting attention and stares from everyone.*

I call Mr. Weasel. He hasn't left yet. What's up with that. Yup, he's leaving now. Okay. We check out of liquors with lots of Holiday Cheer and didn't manage to get carded (what's up with that?), but we did get a few chuckles and move on to groceries where they have the hugest selections and the way cheapest prices in a clean, nice and friendly environment. I have heard this place referred to as 'Trader Joe's on crack". And it is, only cheaper. We swagger through breads and produce where Melisa begins to fall in love with this place in much more than a platonic way.

Mr. Weasel calls. "where are my car keys?". He hasn't left yet??????? " They are on the mantle, Where we keep them". "Ummmm, No they're not", is his only reply and he continues looking. Ugh. I shake my head and we girls keep shopping. We head off into meats (and yes, I managed to touch Melisa's meat. I did it when she wasn't looking so I wouldn't get my butt kicked) and run into a guy pimping samples of this stuff with fried pork. I can't help but comment as we pass "Snap-pay". "Pork for the Princess?" was his immediate retort as he offers me a sample on a toothpick. Of course we start laughing yet again. It turns out that this guy is the creator and his sauce is pretty darn good. I ask Melisa if she wants to try one, because it is yummy. She answers, "No, I can't. But you go ahead". Once again I am in stitches. This hanging out with a Jew thing is gonna take some getting used to.

I call Mr. Weasel. "didja find your keys yet?". Nope. I look at Melisa, "I don't think he's coming". So much we move on. This is my life. I don't even expect and different anymore. I offer Melisa that we can check out the hams, but remember to swiftly move passed bacon. I'm catching on, but we are getting loads of mileage out of my moronic tendencies.

We want some pictures, so we stop a couple of shelf stocking clerks and hand them the camera. They take our picture while trying to hide the fact that they think we're nuts. *People are still looking laughing and pointing at Melisa* We decide that all of the woman are jealous and all of the men are thinking 'don't let my wife see this'. We continue up and down the aisles, tossing necessities into our carts and grabbing all of our baking supplies. $2.00 a pound for butter, you can't beat that price.

I call Mr. Weasel. "Find 'em yet?". Nope. "You do know that you have 10 minutes to get Smallest Weasel to school". Oops, no. He forgot. Ugh. Melisa and I rush through the remainder of our lists and hurry into the checkout lanes. We figured out that thanks to Woodman's I spend about the same amount to feed my family of 7 that she spends to feed 4.
On the way out one woman stopped us to say that she loves the tiaras and what a fun idea.
I think Melisa found her new grocery store and I found a new shopping buddy. You have never had so much fun doing something so mundane! This was a shopping trip fit for a princess.

I rush home to get Smallest Weasel to school. She was a little late, but it's pre-school - no big deal. When I returned home what do I see????? Wanna guess????? Go ahead, I'll wait..........................................................



MR. WEASELS' CAR KEYS! RIGHT THERE ON THE MANTLE WHERE WE KEEP THEM!!!!!!!
UGH!

I have a feeling that Melisa and I will be doing this again very soon. You have to check out her sister post to this if you want a good laugh and a behind the scenes look at the WeaselMomma.
*I so forgot all about about the recharging the batteries excuse*

Welcome To My Party!

Today is the Big day! The WeaselMomma has managed has managed to grace the world with her presence for 36 consecutive years.

Come on in, grab a drink, and start picking at the appetizers. Throw your coats on the bed and set your delicious bringings in the comments. I will be updating all day, hopefully with video too! Turn up the music and let's have a great time!

I haven't been able to keep up with posting because I have been (and still am) baking cookies and drinking beer. A friend stopped over and we chatted and drank beer. I have been wearing my tiara all day and drinking beer. I played the Wii and drank beer. Boy am I glad Big Bad Daddy brought the beer!

Hopefully we will get some pics up tonight.

You all are the best party guests! This was so much fun and who knew that a lampshade could have so many uses? The drinks were delicious and I never would have guessed that kosher beer was so tasty! Too bad that Mr. Weasel never got the camera out because we really needed to get a shot of Tom Dancing and Nukedad shooting beer through his nose. At least we have the shots of Big Bad Daddy wearing his tiara!

You all brought the best food and even better drinks, I don't even have any after effects hanging around this morning. This was way too much fun! I hope that everyone comes to BlogHer this summer so we can do it all over again in person.
Thanks for a great time!

Speechless

Yeah. That's not my normal mode of operation. I have only ever been rendered speechless a few times in my life. Like the time when, when, when,........ Nope. I can not think of one single instance in my life that I was without something to say. Most people tend to ask if I actually ever shut- up or if I talk in my sleep too.

This morning however, I woke up at my normal 4am. Started the coffee pot, flipped on the news and went about booting up to start reading my favorite blogs. I go clickity, click, click, click and start my day with NukeDad (don't tell his wife that I wake up with him daily). And this is what I find. Go click it I'll wait.

Overwhelmed is the only word to sum up my reaction. Tears started filling my eyes. I could not believe how wonderful and sweet these people are. I take that back. I read these blogs daily and I know that these are wonderful, funny and sweet people who constantly entertain me. I just never expected all or any of them to do anything like this. I feel like George Bailey, without the suicidal tendencies.

I clicked his links, which happen to be my next two blogs I would be visiting on any given day (Being Michael's Daddy and Big Bad Daddy Rant)and I find these posts. Go click again, I'll still be here when you get back.

I was getting more bowled over by the minute. I ran upstairs and woke up Mr. Weasel, who normally doesn't wake up until about 7am, to show him the blogs. He too was in disbelief. And grateful. And feeling undeserving. And taken aback, overwhelmed and I could go on and on (so much for speechlesss, huh?). He stopped cursing me for waking him after he read.

In these tough economic times, we know that we are not in this boat alone. We know that there are many people much worse off than we are. We know that the unemployment rate is the highest in a long time and sooo many have been struglling far worse and longer than we have.

Yesterday, I read this at Hope Floats and want to contribute myself. I know this funny lady has been struggling for months and months. I am so grateful for all that I have, and grateful for these wonderful people. We are honored and humbled ~ it's not easy to humble me ~ that they would do this for us. We feel a little guilty and undeserving, but mostly we feel blessed to have such wonderful people in our lives and in our world.

To Tom, Big Bad Daddy and Nukedad ~ the only words we have are Thank You. That doesn't seem like enough. It doesn't sum up how we feel, but you have left us speechless.

It's The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year!

As all of you, my wonderful readers, should be aware, but maybe some of you are living with your heads in the sand. The largest most celebrated holiday of the year is quickly approaching. Most of us are putting in extra hours of shopping and decorating, preparing for all of the parades leading up to the big event. If you aren't doing these things already, you need to get on the ball.

That's right. This coming Saturday is the big day ~ My Birthday! I will be celebrating the 7th anniversary of my 29th birthday. I have written before about how I should lobby congress to make it a national holiday.

I will don my Tiara, and do my "Princess for a Day" shtick. I invite you all to join me right here for a virtual birthday party ~ Big Props to Tara @ If Mom Says Okay for the inspiration. This is going to be a potluck style blowout. I ask you to post, recipes for food and drinks, virtual gifts and desserts in my comments.

Come to the party and bring a friend and a date (or even a spouse)! Bring music, balloons, the fire Marshall or whatever you like. We are going to have a great time. Wear your Tiara's (ladies and Mike) or your black arm bands. Treat it like a 'wake' and write a eulogy that I will still be around to hear. Make it a roast. I look forward to seeing you all at the most lavish blowout virtual party of the year.

R.S.V.P. right here with a comment.

How Google Stole Christmas

All the Weasels in Weaselville like Christmas a lot, but King Larry who heads up Google did not. King Larry disliked Weasels and all of their seasons. Please don't ask why, he won't tell me the reason.

It could be he didn't like me advertising ads. It could be, perhaps that he likes Weasels sad.
But I think that the most likely reason of all, may have been that King Larry's heart is two sizes too small.

I played by the rules
and I didn't do clicking.
$200 is lost and that is just sickening.

Other people click clicked, other people went shopping.
King Larry made me mad, so mad I am hopping.

Whatever the reason the posts or the tears,
He sat down last night and gave me more fears.
Fears of worse finances and fears about stockings.
Fears about how on earth Santa is shopping.

For on Christmas he knew all the Weasel Girls and boy, would wake bright and early and share Christmas joy.

He sat at his desk, greedy fingers a tapping.
"I must find a way to stop Weasel Christmas from happening"
"Their Dad's out of work, but their Mom found a way, I won't support Christmas, no way way way way!

I must use my power, and only for evil, I must find a way to steal Christmas from Weasels!"

Then King Larry got an idea. An awful idea! King Larry got a horrible, awful idea.

I'll cancel the ads, no more account. I do not care about how the Weasel bills mount!

I know what I'll do, I will not pay the fee.
Google was able to get adverts for free.

So he hooked up his laptop and got on with the deed,
who cares that the Weasels are children in need.

He canceled the ads, and the account.
He stopped the check from being sent out.

All the Weasels in Weaselville really don't care.
They know that Christmas is not about flare.

They know that Christmas is all about Joy.
They know that Christmas is not about toys.
They know the gifts that are wrapped are Christ's Love,
The ultimate gift of Heaven above.

Christmas is Love and giving of self,
Not about gifts that were bought from a shelf.

You my dear readers are the best gift this year.
You bring me joy, you bring me good cheer.
You offer us friendship, you try to help out.
And that my dear friends is what Christmas is about.

Wishing you all a Holy and Blessed Christmas Season. May you enjoy the grace that God bestows upon you. Thanks again for all of the clicks. I have the best readers ever and I am grateful.

Ho, Ho, Ho'n In Weaselville

I have mentioned before that we have 3 cats here in Weaselville. We really aren't 'cat people' so to speak, but have wound up with 3 nonetheless. They are all pretty useless, but occasionally entertaining.

There are two males, or at least they were before we neutered them. They mostly mind their own business and make for nice, albeit hairy, heating pads. Then there is Smores. I have written about her before. Having come to us very young after having been abandoned and being an underdeveloped runt, we never had her fixed. It is not believed that she is capable of reproducing. She really doesn't have traditional kitty mating cycles. Every once and a while she starts singing 'Hey, Big Spender' or asks the other cats if they've been in town long, but in very short spurts. With 2 fixed males and all 3 being indoor cats, it's not a major issue of concern.

So back to the story. It's 6 am, the house is quiet, and I am having my morning coffee and surfing the blogs. I can hear the cats and it sounds like Smores meowing "I usually don't do this, but catnip has this effect on me". Mack is all "Bow-chicka-wow-wow" I briefly head to the top of the stairs. Right there on the landing, I find Mack, giving the old college try to make a girl feel special.

I got my first laugh of the day and was lucky enough not to wake anyone up with my hysterics. I think he left her wanting for S'more.

You Can Take The Girl Out Of The City..................

I grew up in the city. Basically in the middle of the 'hood. Mr. Weasel grew up on a farm. Basically in the middle of nowhere. We now live in the suburbs and do the white picket fence thing, albeit without the white picket fence.

These are completely different lifestyles. Completely different cultures and play by completely different rules. Growing up within the culture of the inner city, there are some things that just become second nature. You never have to think about them, they are just a given. The #1 rule is that you don't ever let anybody push you around. You don't go looking for a fight, but you never let anybody see fear or weakness. Word will spread fast and you will become an instant mark. If you ever came home crying because Joey or Dawn or anybody beat you up, Mom would push you back out the door and tell you that you better go defend yourself. It's not that she didn't care that you were about to get your butt kicked, but as long as you were willing to fight back is what the world needed to see. She sent you back for your own good. I so know that this is not PC, but without it you would never survive in the city.

You learn not to take crap from anybody and to always defend your honor and your property. You learn not to start anything you don't want to finish and people learn not to mess with you unless they are willing to take a good thumping. You become street smart.

After so many years of living the life in the 'burbs with the farm boy and the lawn Weasels I have softened on the exterior. However my street rat instincts, although dormant most of the time, are right beneath the surface. Lying in wait, like Mount ST. Helen.

Last night The entire Weasel family was in the car and on our way home. We were in a time crunch and had to get Eldest Weasel home to change and back out to cheer for a basketball game. Mr. Weasel is driving down a busy street at about 30Mph, when an ice ball crashes into my door. I see some teens scrambling to hide behind the tree line after playing target practice with moving traffic. We pull over in a parking lot to check for damage and find another car doing the same thing. I ask Mr. Weasel to drive back. I'm gonna find the little snots. He's hesitant. We are short on time. His instincts say let it go and move on. My instincts say, "somebody's gonna get a thumping". The Weasels are dead silent in the back. These suburban kids are sitting in shock. This stuff doesn't happen in their Norman Rockwell world. Mr. Weasel drives back, but wants me to let him handle this. I have steam rolling out of my ears waiting to explode at these(insert foul language here). I do agree to let him handle things. That is until ~ bang~ they do it again while we are looking for them. I quickly taught my family an new word as Mr. Weasel shouts "GO!" and I fly out of the car and into the tree line shouting every obscenity you've ever heard and probably a few you haven't.

As I was running cross country in snow and woods, the other pelted driver, who had also turned back to look for these morons, pulled up to Mr. Weasel to find out that I was in chase and responded "good for her" and proceeded to shine his high beams into the woods so that I may see better. I am chasing them through small woods and back yards until they disappeared into some cul-de-sac. I start knocking on doors but no one answered and finally called the cops to report these little delinquents are trying to cause an accident.

I didn't catch them, but I am sure that I scared the crap out of 'em. Hopefully they were stupid enough to continue until they could pelt a cop car.

When I returned to the car, the Weasels still had that deer in the headlights look about them. The only sound breaking their trance was Boy Weasel, "Mom, I didn't know you could run like that!".

It's too bad you can't teach street smarts.

Thursday Tidbits

I Have been strong armed tagged by OhCaptain at Life and Thoughts of a Midwest Geek into doing this meme. I innocently went to read his blog, as I do daily, and BAM! I was ambushed. I fell right into his trap. Because I fear of his big brother tactics, I have complied and took the Which Sports Car are you? Quiz. I am one fine machine!

I'm a Lamborghini Murcielago!

You're not subtle, but you don't want to be. Fast, loud, and dramatic, you want people to notice you, and then get out of the way. In a world full of sheep, you're a raging bull.

Take the Which Sports Car Are You? quiz. I won't bully anyone into this, but it was kind of cute. So, if you have no better way to waste time or procrastinate, Take it, post it, and link me up!

The next tidbit I have for you is that the other day when The Microbiologist came to visit, she also brought with her a couple of bottles of her dad's home brewed beer. Suffice it to say that I could use a chest wax after drinking that stuff. I don't know what the proofage is, but grain alcohol has nothing on this stuff!

Having just had my nails and toes done in style, it was time for a cut and color. So yesterday, I headed into by neighbors basement and completed the makeover. I chopped about 4 inches off and got a completely new style. All the gray has magically disappeared and I went in the wayback machine about 10 years. Mr. Weasel loves it, and was happy that it didn't look like the 'suburban helmet'. Picture to come.

And now that I am looking so fly, I got 'Blogged by Terri', of Terri, Terri Quite Contrary fame. I hope that this is not just a fling with a groupie for her. I'm not that kind of girl, but after a few of MicroBiologist's home brews, I could be!

Today's final tidbit is that I want to encourage you all to become regular clickers at these two blogs if you aren't already (Being Michael's Daddy and Big Bad Daddy Rant). Here are 2 guys who are great reads, nice people and don't get nearly the attention or readership they deserve. While you are at it, click OhCaptain too and leave him cookies and a nap in his comments. He gets cranky when his blood sugar drops midafternoon(think pre-school) when he doesn't get enough ego stroking, hehehehehe,(just teasing Captain) So click away and tell them I sent you.

Update on the Ad Clicking Campaign: You all have clicked to the tune of $197.15 to Feed the Weasels this Christmas! Thanks for the clicks and keep 'em coming!

Fabulous!

Okay, so I am a chick and no matter how much I try to suppress it, I have a girly girl side. So, yesterday, I'm tweeting my own business and Melisa is tweeting about work, in the salon, and pedicures (that mean more to me than cheesecake) and I tweet back about how nice that would feel. Then she tweeted about being 10 minutes away.

I looked at Mr. Weasel (who refused to make eye contact) and said "can I go?" ~I totally do not ask permission, but with him being ,an out of work bum and all, I can't just spend willy nilly.

"Ummmm, how much?"

"well, way more than I usually spend, but Melisa has coupons for me"
Crickets
Crickets
"Ummmm, Mr. Weasel??????"

"Well, one part of me says save the money. The other part of me wants to indulge my wife".

"Let me talk to the 2nd guy".

"Okay go"

I shaved my legs and was out of there in record time. I had to split before the Jedi mind trick wore off. I was so excited. Melisa and I have never met in person. I needed a little pampering love and some Mommy Time.

So I get to the salon, before Mr. Weasel can put a hold on my Visa, and there she is.......Mrs. Suburban Scrawl herself, in all her beautiful glory, being just as wonderful in person as she is in cyberspace. Then again, I would say that about almost anybody who hands me a glass of wine while someone else is massaging my feet.I had some chocolates, a freshly heated neck wrap(courtesy of Melisa) a little more wine and tootsies in heaven. You guys so don't get that, but I don't care! This is as close to being Cleopatra that we chicks ever get. I got my manicure too, so I just feel pretty all over and can ignore my muffin top until another day.

Afterward, Melisa was getting off work, and we met for some coffee. We talked about the Blogher Convention in CHICAGO this coming summer and came up with a plan to bring down our own stockpile of liquor to sell to all the lushes attendees. We talked about all the bloggers that we want to meet (yes, you made the list) and how much we want the guys to crash too. We don't think you will, but a girl can dream. We laughed ~ mostly about you ~ and laughed and had a great, although short time together. Melisa really knows how to show a girl a great time. Fabulous, just fabulous!

UPDATE ~ And now Melisa has given me this! I feel special!

It's Not Always All About Me

Half Past Kissing Time has tagged me for this meme. It' the coolest meme I've seen yet, because it's all about you! The 1st rule is for me to pick a post and take the first 10 people who commented. I picked Working Within The Budget. These are them.

1. Melisa
2. RhondaLou
3. Momisodes
4. Michelle
5. Tom
   
6. Mike
7. Chris H
8. Melissa
9. Tara R
10. Paula71/NukeDad(he was #11). Paula was only here once and I don't know much about her blog, I have visited though. Rule 2. The meme questions: 10 Blogs, 15 Questions.
    

What is your favorite post from #3's blog? This one, because I didn't expect it.

Has #10 taken any pictures that have moved you? Paula's, I haven't seen any. NukeDad's usually make me laugh, but He didn't take most of them.

Does #6 reply to comments on his blog? Mike usually responds by email.

Which part of Blogland is #2 from? Rhondalou is an Arizona girl.

If you could give one piece of advice to #7 what would it be?I would tell Chris the only improvement she could do for her blog would be to link to me bi-weekly.

Have you ever tried something from #9's blog? Yup, for her virtual birthday party, she posted recipes for a virtual pot luck, I took the Buffalo Chicken dip as my own.

Has #1 blogged something that inspired you? This one inspired me not to touch Melisa's meat ~ EVER!

How often do you comment on #4's blog? Usually about once a week.

Do you wait excitedly for #8 to post? Totally stalk her, almost daily.

How has #5's blog changed your life? Tom has made me feel like a real and legitimate blogger.

Do you know any of your 10 bloggers in person? Not these 10, but I hope to someday.

Do any of your 10 know each other? Not in the biblical sense, I don't think anyway.

Out of the 10, which updates more frequently? Melisa is quite prolific. I am not surprised that she has 3 kids.

Which of the 10 keep you laughing? All of them, that's why I read. NukeDad tends to make me change undergarments most frequently.

Which of the 10 made you cry (good or bad) tears? NukeDad, with tears of laughter and this post.

Now if I mentioned your blog and you have nothing better to post about, pass the torch.
As for the rest of you, take these blogs and stalk the archives. The kids don't actually NEED clean clothes.

MicroBiology Meets Weaselville

What a busy and wonderful looong weekend. Atop all of the Thanksgiving festivities, yesterday we celebrated the 9th birthday of Monkey Weasel. The day started with pancakes and presents and just grew better and better all day long.

Through the course of the week emails had been flying back and forth between the Microbiologist and I. She would be in town, due to the holiday, and we had been trying to fit in a meet-up. With the normal craziness of the weasel family lifestyle, trying to find a time and place was going to be difficult. I talked to Monkey and she said she would love to have "the lady who gave Ebola to her and Niecey at her birthday dinner." Then ran through the house telling the other weasels "Bad Momma" is coming to dinner!" After the correction was made, Monkey was just as thrilled.

After going to church, I took Monkey to get her ears pierced. That's the 9 year old right passage in our home. She was so excited and could barely wait for me to grab my coat. She was happy damn near wetting her pants in anticipation and we didn't even have to bind her with duct tape to do it like we had to when Boy Weasel turned 9!*

Afterword, we stopped for a special hot cocoa birthday treat at Mommy's favorite coffee shop. Yup, today was defiantly all about Monkey. So what if I conned her into going to "Mommy's happy place" for a cup full of heaven.
We came home and started making her favorite dinner of fried chicken and screaming at the older weasels to hurry up and clean asking for help to prepare for guests. Just as the tasks at hand were being completed, MicroBiologist and Niecey arrived, and not empty handed. They had brought with them a gift for Monkey (how cool was that?). As monkey tore off that paper like a rabid rodent so graciously unwrapped her gift of the game 'Mousetrap' and proceeded to set it up with Micro's help in the living room.

Niecey is close in age to Smallest Weasel and immediately took to the house and the family. Not showing the slightest bit of shyness, she jumped right in and enjoyed hanging out with the weasels. They continued to play while I finished overcooking making the meal, and having grown-up time. Everyone ate happily and there was only 1 drink spill (new record) and it was ME (show of hands fr who is surprised)!We moved on to birthday cake (ice cream cake) for dessert and had a wonderful and laughter filled visit after that. We started putting the weasels to bed (school night) and then I go t a chance to really enjoy Niecey. She is a beautiful, crazy smart and funny 5 year old. Truly and enjoyable kiddo. She had me in stitches a good portion of the evening. Personality oozes out of her and you can't help but fall head over heals.

At the end of the night she planted a great big wet kiss on my cheek and it felt like an honor. She declared that she wanted to be a weasel too. I don't think that I could have been given a better compliment than that. It was all a load of fun. I didn't go to bed until 10:30 (way late for me) and slept in until 6:17 (2+ hrs) and woke in a panic to get the morning duties done in time (pathetic, I know). I sooooo want to do it again.

* just kidding about piercing Boy Weasels ears.