Thursday, November 27, 2014


Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! This world could use a little humor during times like these.

Enjoy, Barrelassers ;)

Tuesday, September 23, 2014


You'll have to please excuse me, I'm still in shock over my oldest son turning twenty-one years old. I mean, it's not like I didn't know it was going to happen, I just didn't expect it to happen so quickly. I kind of thought I could will it away with my super mom powers, but no such luck. I was very happy  for him to have a birthday, I would just prefer it be a number of my choosing and turning twenty- one wasn't the number I had in mind. I was thinking something more along the lines of twenty again. I know I should want him to be little again, and sometimes I do, but he has come a long way since then and let's face it, those were the terror years. I kind of like him being able to make his own sandwiches and having the ability to explain to me what the problem is without all the crying until I guess the appropriate response! It's much better this way, I just don't want him to be legally allowed to drink. Not that I think he's a big drinker, or going to be one; I just think this is the last line being crossed into official adulthood and I do not like it.

My youngest, my daughter, is very close to turning sixteen and, as all children tend to do, she assumes it will be all about her. She has been telling me about all of her plans for her sixteenth birthday and frankly, I just do not approve. She wants some sort of a cabin party. Meaning that she wants to rent a cabin and have all of those other little sixteen year old girls come over and spend the night and scream and yell, watch movies,talk about boys and blah blah blah. Let me first clarify that we do have a house. She even has her own bedroom. So the fact that I am being asked to pay good money to rent another house in the same town for them to sleep in seems a bit absurd to me.


The other day while trying to nicely explain to my daughter that I would like to throw her a Sweet Sixteen party, it occurred to me for the first time that this is not all about her. This about me. Sure, we celebrate her every year on this date but I don't really think the score is even when I lay it all out in front of me. She informed me the other day that it's not my birthday and therefore not my decision. This is when the light bulb went off for me. I then asked her exactly what she did on this day sixteen years ago to deserve a party in her honor. She was a little taken aback at my question and speechless for the first time in the sixteen years since we've become acquainted with one another, so I answered for her. "Nothing. You did nothing. I did all of the work. You were absolutely no help to me at all as I tried to squeeze your little human body out of mine so that I could be one with myself again. The only thing you did was hang around in my womb reeking havoc and sucking me dry of nutrition while making me piss my pants every time I had to sneeze or cough. I think I should be the one celebrated  on this day."

No doubt thinking that my sanity had taken a complete leave of absence, she responded by telling me that is what I have Mother's Day for. She was not born on Mother's Day, and neither were either of my other two children. Which is not only stupid and the wrong date , but brings up another wonderful point. I have three children- so why on Earth do I only have one Mother's Day? Wouldn't it make much more sense if when each of their birthdays rolled around I got a cake for all of my hard work, not to mention my pain and suffering leading up to those days? I think I should definitely get some sort of monetary compensation for the time I spent growing another human inside of my body! Kind of like how people get paid to do experimental drug programs. Ya know? Just to see how she turned out. After all, she has cost an absolute fortune just to maintain and keep her alive over the years! I don't know about the rest of the mothers out there, but at the very least I think I should get double billing on the party invitation or the program for the big event. And just for the record. Nobody is sweet at sixteen.

Enjoy, Barrelassers ;)

Wednesday, August 27, 2014


  I did it, Barrelassers! I said I was going to get on a plane for the first time this year (my 40th year) and I did it! Thanks to my son for joining the Air National Guard and having a graduation seventeen hours driving time from home- I had no other real choice but to get on a plane. I mean I suppose I could have driven it, but I would never risk driving that distance with my teenage daughter being as miserable as teenage daughters are when they are stuck in a car with their parents.

Did I mention that I also managed to make it through eight and a half weeks with my son being away at BMT at Lackland Air Force Base? What about making it through my other son's high school graduation and then moving him into his dorm to start his first year of college? How about the fact that my daughter got her learner's permit and is slowly but surely taking over the driver's seat in our car? I'm not an expert on anything except being right and sometimes being a smart ass, but even I know when enough is enough. If I didn't know any better, I'd swear that my children are trying to push me over the edge. The edge of what I do not know, but I am certain there is an edge because I have been teetering on it all year long.

I've had a roller coaster of a year, and the year is still not over. But I have made it so far and I plan to kick and scream my way through what's left of it. Hide and watch me. Actually, do not hide and watch me; that would be weird as hell.

Armed with a permit and not afraid to use it!

After a very long, stressful eight and a half weeks, I finally got my hands on my Airman!
Armed with a bright future and not afraid to use it!

Armed with a diploma and not afraid to use it!
Armed with hugs and not afraid to use them! Leaving him at college :(

Enjoy, Barrelassers ;)

Saturday, July 5, 2014


Most everyone is aware that my husband regularly calls me Lucy, as in Lucy Ricardo (Lucille Ball) and most of my pals know why. I often unintentionally conduct myself the same as Lucy would. There's never a shortage of oddball behavior on my part. I tend to be clumsy, and almost everything I try to do starts off as a simple task yet, somehow turns into an entire sitcom worth of material.

I've been hiking my hind-end down to my mailbox and back each day hoping today will be the day that I get my first piece of mail from my barrelassin' son who is currently away at boot camp. Today was my lucky day! All of the mothers in the Airmen's Wingmom group have been posting daily about receiving their first piece of mail which contains all of the graduation information needed to attend the ceremony. Well, my friends, today was my lucky day!! I got the letter. I was so excited and I couldn't wait to tear it open! I was sure to take a photo of it first for his scrapbook, and then I snatched it up-along with two more letters that for a few seconds, made me even more excited when I saw the address. For a fleeting moment I thought he had also written me other letters as well. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks! I wrote this child a letter and mailed it to myself. And if that's not bad enough, my husband did the same thing!!

Now, I've been to school, and I've sent and received mail for many years. I'm 100% familiar with this process and how it all works. The only thing I can figure is that because I've been so busy the last couple of months sending out invitations to my other son's high school graduation, and most recently have been mailing out thank you cards to everyone, my mind must have been playing tricks on me and I was likely a wreck and crying when I addressed the envelope, too, that for some reason I put all of his mailing information on the sender's designated space of the envelope and my name and address in the receiving party's designated space. In this particular case, I am the sender and the receiver. I just can't wait to see what I said. As far as my husband goes, he has a much better excuse. When he told me he had a letter to mail to our son, I showed him my letter on the table so that he could copy the address onto a separate envelope because mine was already sealed and stamped. Naturally, without any thought he has simply copied it the way I had it written out, but you would think between the two of us, one of us would've caught this mistake. I guess now I can start calling him Ricky! Luuuuucy!...I'm home!

Have a good one, Barrelassers :)

Thursday, June 26, 2014


When your first born leaves on a plane for boot camp:
 You get your butt out of the bed, cry because you haven't heard from him since you let that big bad plane take him away yesterday,  eat two Swiss Cake Rolls for breakfast, four Reese's Peanut Butter Cups for lunch, pull yourself together and open the Captain Morgan's for a little day-drinking!!

Reading the bottle now, I see that it is Caribbean Rum with Spice & other Natural flavors. "Other natural flavors" being the salt of my tears I presume. I do not feel the Caribbean vibe yet, but I'm still on my first drink- please be patient. I'm perfecting my island accent as you read this and I may very well become a pirate before dinnertime. So ha!
 I realize I do not possess the only child to ever leave home for boot camp, I do however, possess the only child to ever leave MY home for boot camp and, for that, I deserve a reward. Maybe I'm too sensitive or I'm just a big baby but, I was not built for this. It takes a special kind of strength to send a child away and willingly allow someone to yell at them night and day and I do not possess  this super power. My super power is beating people up who yell at my babies, not cheering them on. He is a fine young man and while they might make him stronger and tougher during the next eight weeks, what exactly is their plan for me? Freakin' know-it alls forgot about lil ole me! I know I should have planned better for this moment, and sure, I plan for the future. But my idea of planning for the future is asking my teenage daughter how many more years she plans to be in the shower so I know whether to try and hold it or go ahead and pee in the woods.
So on that note, as Matchbox Twenty once said "reach down your hand in your pocket, pull out some hope for me; it's been a long day." And no need to sworry bout me, I can handwle my wicker. Slow long fer now.
I'm going to do some lite to moderate day drinking, so if you need me, I'll be lite to moderately drunk. It's five o'clock Rum-where. Arrrgg!!

Special thanks to my nephew for texting my phone to make sure it's working properly in case my baby calls home! Keep up the good work!

This one's on me, Barrelassers :)

Monday, March 31, 2014


I recently went "walkin' in Memphis" or more like a run for fun and several car rides all over Memphis. So here's what ya need to know before ya go.

1) DO visit Stax Records Museum. This place is amazing and has a plethora of information on the history and early days of soul music.
DON'T try to walk around with a beer. I was at a private function where the beer was served to me. I didn't take my own and I'm sure they will not let you walk in off the street carrying one :).

2) DO visit Graceland. The famous home of Elvis Presley. It is very interesting and has tons of information on the King of Rock n' Roll.
DON'T try to go upstairs. They won't let you ;)

3)  DO visit the Memphis Zoo! It's a really nice Zoo and has some great animals exhibits.
DON'T think you're gonna feed a Giraffe without possibly getting french- kissed.

4) DO visit the Loraine Motel- the site of Dr. Martin Luther King's assassination. You can learn a lot, and even if you don't learn anything- it's a gigantic piece of history and worth seeing in person. DO prepare yourself for the overwhelming emotion that will build up inside of you as you approach the site. You may have to hold back a tear.
DON'T go in the pouring rain if you want to take pictures outside (and you will definitely want to)- DON'T let your husband try to take a picture with his phone as you drive by the Loraine Motel in the rain and almost run a stop sign and nearly cause an accident that could kill his wife and then blame it on you for freaking him out when you scream AAAHHH! so that he will pay attention and stop the car so you (the wife) don't die.

There's lots of DO's when visiting Memphis. Go to Beale Street, eat at B.B. King's, go somewhere and listen to some live blues music, ride the trolley, and buy a BIG ASS BEER on the street. (I didn't do that this trip, but I did it on an earlier trip to Memphis.) 
With all the DO's in Memphis, try to remember a few more things not to do if you want your trip to run a little smoother. Don't step on your husband's big toe with your high heel when he's in his bare feet; it will hurt him. Don't be overly confident with your comforter on your hotel bed, if you tug hard and your hand slips off, you will punch yourself in the nose really hard. And if you must do that, don't do it while you're on the phone with the school counselor because you can't scream or cry until you hang up.

And last but not least, expect your kids to do the exact opposite of the list you left for them before you left town. Expect everyone to be late for school, get hit in the face with a soccer ball and almost break their nose, expect them to need way more gas money than you thought, expect them to melt the red solo cups sitting too close to the stove instead of drinking from them so they didn't have to dirty all the glasses, and definitely expect them to want more pizza.

Enjoy, Barrelassers :)