Do we actually need a holiday to remember how important our family and friends are?  Shouldn’t that be an everyday thing?

Why?  Seriously.

Don’t even try the common reply of, “Oh, it is because America was discovered.” Native American Indians were already here living their lives. Personally I feel it is a ridiculous holiday. I can think of greater moments in our history worth celebrating about and marking as an official holiday such as the day we first stepped onto the moon.

“One small step for man, one giant leap for mankind.”

Now there is a moment in history worth celebrating!

Yeah, but what do I know…..

Because I listen to podcasts all day at work, two totally different casts talked about injuries they had sustained as children.  Mom will tell you that my brother and I were accident prone throughout our childhoods.  She will also tell you that the nurses at the local emergency rooms knew her on a first name basis:

“Which one is it this time, Erna, and what did they do?”

One such story of mine did not precipitate a trip to an emergency room, but only a call to a nurse friend of hers.  This is that story:

We lived on a street that had about nine children on it.  Since we were all about the same age, we played together everyday.  On this particular day, we were in a backyard across the street from our home, playing our version of “HORSE”.  When we got bored with that, we picked up a bouncy rubber ball and started a loose version of softball.  My brother was tossing it underhand to me and I smacked it with an aluminum bat into the “field”, with the unwritten understanding that if it were caught, I would be out.

Apparently, Doug, my brother, was getting a little miffed that no one was catching the ball to get me out, so he chucked one at me…overhand…at my head!

Being only about 10-years old and fearless, I thought I could hit the ball that was headed for my face, so I got the bat up there.  The series of events that followed are these:

1. Ball heads for face
2. Bat goes up
3. Ball hits bat
4. Bat hits head

I knew it was wrong the second I heard the “CLANG” inside my head.  I dropped the bat to the ground, threw my hand up to my forehead, and turned for home at a fast pace.  Running into the house, I encountered mom.  She told me to move my hand away from my forehead.  I remember her gasping and then she ran for the phone.  I looked in the mirror and saw that there was half of an egg sitting on my forehead, turning seriously purple and getting bigger with every passing second.  Her nurse friend told her that I just needed to be watched for concussion and that was the end of my playday.

Maybe this incident was the beginning of my spiraling CRS issues…

But what do I know….

This video was featured on the front page of MSN the other day.  It has been shown on several of my favorite blogs and I have to share it here because it made me giggle uncontrollably! I WISH I was this talented…

Yeah, but what do I know…

Last week, this nation did one of the most historic things it could do and I am proud to say that I got to witness the election of Barack Obama, a black man, as our 44th President.  In fact, the entire election this year was going to be historic if either party was elevated to the White House.  It was going to be a black man of a woman…ground breaking in either vein.

America, hurrah!

On the other hand, I am distinctly perturbed by the voting public in the state amendments.  Florida, Arizona, and California voters have decided that my civil rights are not important, that I am less of a human being because of my sexual orientation.  Does no one remember this same distinction of being less of a human being placed on the slaves?  On black men?  On women voters?  I remember my history.

While the political activists of the GLBT communities protest in the streets and in front of city halls, I am looking in my history books and realizing that the culmination of each of these fight for civil rights ended in one place and one place only…the Supreme Court of the United States of America.  It is there that this bullshit will end, with the Supreme Court Justices determining that the GLBT community is not the threat to the American people that they think.

Why not let my community have the word “marriage”?  Who does it really threaten?  With the national divorce rate reaching over 50% (higher in the state of California, mind you), who is to say that heterosexual marriage is better than a homosexual marriage?  Heterosexual census takers?  PLEASE!  I know people on all sides of this.  My parents have been married for 43 years.  Michael and Kevin of QCast Connection have been together for 18 years.  Rain and I have been together for 7 years.  Other than having to present a durable power of attorney, why are the QCast boys and us not allowed the same civil rights of our lifetime partnerships that my mom and dad have?  Why do we have to pay higher taxes because we have to file as single tax payers, even though we are in committed relationships?

America, boo!

Take this fight upward and onward, GLBT attorneys.  Fight the good fight.  I am not a second class citizen.

Maybe I’ll just go to Michigan with my glaucoma problem (wink, wink).

Yeah, but what do I know…

Today I went to bingo and guess what?

I did not win.

Isn’t it football season?  The bingo hall was filled with men!  No wonder I can’t win…

Yeah, but what do I know…

Every day, every single day, something happens at work by a child that makes me laugh. They really do have a great sense of humor but usually the things that make me laugh are serious questions in their minds that we adults find hysterically funny.

Today was a typical Thursday morning…the usual lego building, story telling and massages (umm yes, I did say massages). I have taught my students the art of making their teacher really happy by using hot-wheel cars on my back, and oooo, it’s a great, soothing feeling, those little cars rolling up and down my back.  I decided this morning to be the hot wheel car mechanic, and the only way to make sure  the wheels worked properly was to test them on my back. This also was the only way for the hot-wheels to have the best racing  wheels to win in the races.

So, there I was, kneeling on a classroom sofa looking over the back of it and watching some friends build with legos. One adorably cute friend was testing the wheels out of his car. He decided today to go up under the inside of my shirt in the back, he lifted the shirt-tail past the waist band of my pants and he sweetly looked at me and started this conversation:

“Miss Rain? Why do you have two stomachs?”

“Because I’m fat.”

“But why are you fat?”

“Because I like to eat too much food.”

“Oh…Miss Rain you have two stomachs.”

All I could do was laugh and then for a minute or two it dawned on me; I should really do something about that .

Yeah, but what do I know………….

Sundays are nice for Rain and I.  I get up at the butt-crack of dawn, feed the animals, walk the dog, and settle down at my computer with some tea and get to my homework and the occasional game while Rain sleeps.  It is very quiet…normally.

This Sunday, however, the cats decided that they were going to start a fight with each other!  Apparently, Cali and Carly woke up on the wrong side of the bed.  I heard the growls and went to investigate.  Both were on their hind legs in front of each other, paws up and ready for some kind of kitty slap fight.  Once they pounced upon each other, rolling around the floor, biting and scratching each other, I broke it up because they were getting loud.

Settling back into my chair, I felt the peace and quiet of the morning begin again…until Cassie, the dog, jumped up and ran out into the living room.  I heard it again…the start of another bitch-fight between the cats and the dog wanted in on it.  Everyone was put into time-out. I put the dog out on the porch, took Cali into my office, and let Carly run the rest of the apartment.

What I don’t get is this; these animals have grown up together and yet they still fight?  Is it just a territory thing or is it some instinct of long ago that they need to keep their feralness alive in some small way?

I do feel bad that our cats are not allowed outside anymore and that the dog doesn’t have a yard, but I hope that we can change that in the near future.  For now, I guess they will fight occasionally and I will have to break it up like some school yard mom.

Those three rat bastards are now all laying on the couch together, looking at me like I am out of my mind…maybe I am!

What do I know….

Happy Halloween !!

Finally , finally!  This sugar coated holiday is on a Friday so that I may give to the parents of my students what I have had to deal with for years. An over indulgence of sugary sweets causes us pre-school teachers to pull our hair out of our heads. Imagine if you will……over stimulated , excited, hyper children (18 of them, in fact) the day of, and especially the day after this glorious holiday .  A total nightmare…  This year I decided to fight back by stock-piling bags and bags of candy and, with much love and care, filling up individual trick or treats bags for each of my lil’ students.  They will be able to consume all of this ONLY when they have left the school, hand in hand with their parent.

Tomorrow is Saturday and the grumpy, over tired, over sugared children will be home to share their moodiness with their families.  I felt compelled to help them out and give a little shove of what it is like year after year for all the early childhood educators.

Ahhhhh! Sweet Sweet sugary revenge !!

Yeah, but what do I know ………… :p

I went to the mail box this afternoon, and lo-and-behold, I received a letter in the mail from the school I attend.  Yes, I am 43-years old, and yes, I am in college, and yes, everyone is very proud of me.  Rain wants me to get my RN so she doesn’t have to work anymore.  Mom and dad say that I need my RN so I can take care of them as they grow more and more infirm everyday.

I’ll let you in on a little secret;

I went back to school for purely monetary reasons and I am not ashamed to admit it!  A traveling RN makes a starting annual salary of over $50,000.  Wouldn’t you jump all over that if you could?

Yeah, but what do I know…

My daughter, Stacy, talked me into blogging.  I promised, so I am going to give it a try. I told Stacy I would do anything for her so here goes. I am mom to Stacy and Doug grandmother to Ashley, Nicholas, and Douglas. Voila, I am great grandmother to Savanna.

I chose very carefully to name my children. I did not want any nick names. So guess what? I ended up with three Dougs. If you haven’t figured it out my husband of 43 years is Doug too!!!

Yeah, but what do I know…

Mom

thinking of co always