The Un-Post

Blogging is great and I love what I do.  I have a place to share my thoughts, quirky as they may be, and tell the stories of life around here through the lens of Looney Tunes glasses, just the way I see them.  Aaaaand...........people actually like to come here and read all about it, voluntarily!  That rocks!

It's like I can have my own little stand up routine, while I am plastered to my couch!  I have an audience thanks to both of you and that, my friends, is Weasel crack!

The draw back to blogging is what I can't write.  There is almost a physical pain of not writing some of the most hilarious conversations, situations, observations, irony and antics that happen near or around me.

Out of begging pleading threats against my person respect for family or friends, some things are just un-blogable.

Some things fall under the category of you had to be there.

Some are just too quirky and odd.  You wouldn't get it, even though I may have been laughing in the aisles.  I find humor in some pretty strange places.

Some things you just don't post on the Internet.

What's that, you want an example?  Okay,  I can't post about when Melisa said...........hey wait, you almost had there.  I'm not falling for that old trick.

Some of you are no holds barred when it comes to blogging.  Your friends and family may not ever bother to read your ramblings even know that you have a blog.  I on the other hand need all the readers I can get  am very open about the fact that I blog.

There is so much going on in and around Weaselville and yet so little that I can write about today.  That's why I am calling this the un-post.  Yup, you just read 250 words that I wrote about absolutely nothing and you are still here.  There goes your time waster for the day.

That's what I call talent.

9 Years Later

I remember the smoke billowing from the towers. I helplessly witnessed as victims jumped to their death to escape the flames and I remember the inferno that poured from a hole in the side of the Pentagon. I remember where I was and what I felt as I watched them burn and the towers later collapse.

I remember the fear in my heart for the safety of my family before all of the planes in the air were accounted for and on the ground.  I can still feel the hot tears that ran down my cheeks when the towers fell and watching live as people searched the streets for their loved ones with fliers and pictures as they prayed that someone would bring them good news later that night.

I remember in detail the events of that day.  The way that they happened in my life and the way that they played out on the news.  I remember the overwhelming emotions and sadness of the day that were not only my own or my family's, but were shared by a nation.

Our country had been sucker punched that day 9 years ago by cowardly terrorists, in the name of Islam, to the tune of almost 3,000 innocent American lives.  Our eye was blackened, but our patriotism renewed.

I also remember that just a few miles from my home that there was rejoicing and celebration going on in the streets, that day and for the days that immediately followed, on the part of Islamic radicals that were claiming a victory, as the rest of our nation mourned, watched, hoped and prayed that survivors would emerge from the rubble.  They sang and celebrated publicly under the protection of the local police department, who were there to serve and protect despite their personal distaste and visceral feelings toward the goings on, the same as their now deceased brethren had done in New York that very same morning.  You never saw these happenings on the news.  I saw it with my own eyes.

These were people exploiting and indulging in all of our freedoms and protections as Americans, people who would just as well see all Americans dead.  They are much the same as the cowardly sadists that rocketed those planes into the World Trade Center Towers.

Today there is talk of building a mosque just a few hundred feet from where the towers were attacked and fell.  There are claims of intolerance, bigotry and Islamophobia against anyone who views this concept as inappropriate or distasteful. 

Now, the would be Imam of the proposed Ground Zero mosque, Felsal Abdul Rauf, is willing to exploit and indulge in all of our freedoms and protections as Americans to disrespect the sensitivities of a country that still mourns by choosing a completely inappropriate location to house a mosque.  The Imam now warns that:

"Parts of the Muslim world would be violently inflamed at the news of the center's relocation".

Seriously?  It's Americans that find the proposed project distasteful, disrespectful, hurtful and offensive that are intolerant?  How's construction coming along on that Synagogue in Mecca?

If this is not a victory mosque, as the Imam claims, why wouldn't the ministers of the Religion of Peace be respectful and sensitive to the emotions that envelop that hallowed final resting place?  Choosing a different location that wouldn't cause pain and hurt to most Americans would also dis-spell any suspicions or appearances that this is a victory mosque.

The sights and emotions of that day are etched into my soul.  The pride that I feel in our great nation and the heroes that sacrificed their lives to save others and watching firefighters erect a flag amidst the ruble.  The coming together as a nation and the resolve we shared when we shared this moment:

 

9 years later, so much healing has taken place that we are able to get caught up in our individual busy lives.  Some around the world, and even some within our own borders, have misinterpreted this healing and moving forward as having forgotten or that we have become lax in vigilance and reverence.

Let us stand firm in our resolve as Americans to continue celebrating our freedoms and our way of life.  Let us show the world that the black eye that was thrust upon us by terrorists is now a beacon of hope that shines from hollowed grounds in Manhattan, Virginia and Pennsylvania and that we will not have them disrespected.  Most of all, let us never forget.

Cruze

Most of you know that last week Eldest Weasel smashed up Mr. Weasel's car.  The insurance company has decided the car is a total loss.  It's all okay though.  Eldest, nor anyone else, was injured and my body shop says that they can make the repairs so that's what we are going to do.

What you don't know about last week though is that GM reached out to social media and held an event that gave me the chance to test drive the brand new Chevy Cruze before it hits the dealerships later this month and have some fun with friends new and old over drinks and sharing food.   Eldest Weasel was very bummed when I told her that "no, you can't come with me.  GM doesn't want you driving their brand new babies.  You're just still too young and inexperienced".

 I, WeaselMomma, being as cool and hip as I am, drive the sexiest of sexy  mommy mobiles ~ the minivan (better known as the hot mobile).  Mr. Weasel drives the cute little commuting sedan or rather I should say he did until last week.

The Cruze is cute and sporty little eye candy, but I must admit to laughing to myself when I heard about it's 1.4 L turbo engine.  For those non-motor head readers out there, that's an itty bitty engine.  1.4 L is great for gas mileage, but not thought of for it's performance qualities. WeaselMomma is all about performance. Adding the turbo boost almost seemed like an oxymoron.  At least that's what I thought until I drove it.

Va -Va-Va-Voom!  Baby could move.

The Cruze was responsive to my touch, as if we were dancing.  The slightest movement brought immediate response and it was putty in my hands. The racer steering column felt smooth and light.  All I had to do was caress and my every lead was followed.

This thing made my hot mobile look like a minivan.  The Cruze was zippy, fun and comfortable to drive.  The rack mounted electric power steering (just like they use in a BMW) had me at first touch.  It's 1.4L engine can get up to 40 mpg and thanks to the turbo never makes you feel a lack of power under your right foot.  This car was much, much, more than I expected it to be.

Chevy says that the Cruze is redefining compact.  I say that they are right.  Head out to your local Chevy dealer and take a test drive yourself, just for fun, and see if you agree.  Tell them I sent you so that they can look at you funny with absolutely zero recognition of what you are talking about.  You can have a free test drive on me.

After test driving the Cruze, hanging out with the likes of Michelle, Maria and Connie for a few drinks and more laughs than you can fit into a 10 lb bag. If you don't follow these ladies on twitter, you want to.  These ladies are total hang out quality.  That's the highest WM peep rating.

And as for Eldest Weasel, after she smashed up Daddy's car I could point to it and say "And that is exactly why GM doesn't want you driving their car".

Lucky 13

I am now the Mother of three teenagers.  Yikes!  How did that happen?

Today Middle Weasel turns thirteen.  Thirteen!!!!!!

My beautiful baby girl who was chuck full of surprises from the day we found out that I was expecting her has worked her magic yet again and caught me by surprise as she has grown so quickly right under my nose.

I must have been distracted by the way her eyes sparkle when she smiles and her constant ability to make me laugh.

Happy Birthday to my rosey faced baby.  Dad and I are very proud of the wonderful young lady you have become.  We love you.

Proud Moments in Parenting II

Last night was back to school curriculum night in Weaselville.  You know, the night that parents get to go school, sans kids.  The teachers go over the class syllabus and talk about how their individual classrooms run.  It's all very nice, friendly and informative and I hate it!

Yes, I like the Weasels school.  Some of the teachers we met with have been working with Weasels for years and some are having their first experiences in getting to know the Weasels.  They all are wonderful, loving and caring teachers dedicated to their students.

"Well then WeaselMomma, what's the problem?  This sounds like a positive experience.  Why on earth would you hate it so much?", I can hear your gears grinding now.

My problem is that this night is too informative.  It's not that I get information that I shouldn't  know, it's that I get information that I didn't want to know.

Case in point; File # W752.4-S

The first grade teacher, who is quickly becoming familiar with the Weasels via a school supply list flub of not having school supplies labeled and thus causing confusion in a room of 20+ six year old wild natives, told a story regarding snack time to the parents sitting at miniature desks around the classroom.

"There was one child who appeared to be eating chocolate cake.  The sweet lovely little child informed me that it was not actually chocolate cake, but 'a look alike' when I questioned the snack choice and reminded them that snack time is for a healthy snack only.  'See those chocolate chips?  Those are healthy.  My Mom would never send me to school with anything that wasn't healthy".  I gave the student the benefit of he doubt, but it sure did look pretty moist".

I bowed my head to allow my hair to cover the combination of shame and amusement that were broadcasting across my features.  I instinctively knew who that student was as I collapsed my face into my hands and shook my head.  I did not want that information.

Now that I had that information, I had to address it.  I don't need this kind of nonsense cluttering up my brain.  It's already a mess in there.  After the talk/presentation I now had the honor of introducing myself to the teacher in person, meeting for the first time the woman who I have consistently sent in late paperwork, unlabeled supplies and now, unwittingly, chocolate cake.

"Umm, hi.   It's nice to meet you" flashing my pearly whites in stark contrast to my blushing cheeks.  "I'm Smallest Weasel's Mom and yes, that was indeed chocolate cake".  I went on to explain that the cake was for her lunch dessert and that she always has an appropriate healthy snack in her lunch box for snack time.  The teacher smiled, chuckled and was very kind and I assured her that I would bust Smallest Weasel when I returned home and to feel free to call SW out on any snack that seems as questionable and moist as chocolate cake.

She explained that it was not her intention to get the child in trouble, just to share a funny ice breaking story with the parents.  I told her, "Welcome to Weaselville".

Mr. Weasel had been covering the 7th and 8th grade presentations while 1st and 5th grade had been my conquests.  He heartily laughed as I related the story to him as we exchanged mental notes in the car.  "It's a look alike?, that's awesome!", but soon we had to put on our game faces to enter back into the house.

"Oh, Smallest Weeeeassseelll.............come tell mom and Dad about snack time".  She tried to talk her way out of things, but we let her know that wouldn't fly and I asked about healthy chocolate chips and how to go about getting some.  Tears started to flow with an immediate request of, "I'm tired and want to go to bed".  Her passion, inflection and mini meltdown sent Mr. W and I into an uncontrollable  laughing fit.  We kissed her and sent her off to slumber, where she had a fitful night of bad dreams that for the first time in her six years she didn't want to talk about.  I'm sure that they all involved getting in trouble at school.

Yes, I acquired much good information last, but I also managed to bring home with me shame embarrassment and laughter.


Now do you get why I hate actually talking to teachers?