Create Your Own Caption

Sometimes, I just have no words for the stuff that goes on in our house. Please help me fill in the blanks...


We are heading out for a vacation for the next week or so and will not likely be blogging. Looks like I'm going to need the R & R while I can get it. Lots to do when I return to work.

Catch you on the flip side!

Most Educational Pack Meeting EVER!

If I could write a real-life script for Hayden's pack meeting last night, this is how it would go...

Scout master: Okay, kids! Thanks for coming to "When I Grow Up" night. Tonight we have special guests that will tell us all about their jobs. We have an artist, a guy who works for the Air Force sending things into outer space, and an FBI agent who catches bad guys!

Scouts in unison: YAY!

Scout master: We'll start with Agent So-and-So from the FBI.

*awed silence*

Agent So-and-So: Hi kids. Let me start by explaining what I do. There are three parts of the nexus of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. There are the criminal investigators that hunt down the perpetrators whose crimes go outside the local and state juristictional boundaries, like wire fraud. Then there is the counter-terrorist unit. And lastly there is the international intel unit that apprehends spies. I'm in one of those categories, but I can't say which part of the nexus I belong to.

*blank stares* *kids scratching their heads in confusion*

Confused 8 year old whispers to parent: What's a nexus?

Agent So-and-So: Anyhow, this is my gun! *whips it out of his holster*

All scouts in unison as they lean forward in their chairs: OOOOOOOOOOH!

Agent So-and-So: And this here is pepper spray and a tazer. This can totally incapacitate any perpetrator you may encounter.

All scouts in unison: OOOOOOOOOOH! AAAAAAAAAAAH!

Agent So-and-So: So lemme tell you guys a funny story... When I had been in the field for just a couple of weeks, I got handed a case where I had to track down some perpetrators who had been dealers in kidd;e p*rn (I do NOT want anybody googling the real word and surfing around on my blog! Hence the cryptic words, but I'm sure you get the oh-so-awkward picture)

All parents in unison: *Audible gasp of horror and nervous glances toward the innocent scouts.*

Curious scout: Agent So-and-So, what's kidd;e p*rn?!?!

Father of a scout: Can we just call it kidnapping? Please?

Agent So-and So: Actually, that falls under another jurisdiction. This was kidd;e p*rn...So anyways, we track this son of a ...gun down, and he is HIGH as a kite!!! I mean, he was wasted on drugs!

Scouts muttering amongst themselves: What does that mean?

Scoutmaster: Wow! Look at the time. I'm sorry Agent So-and So. We have to move on to the artist's presentation now. I'm sure Agent So-and So can stick around and answer questions later. By the way, you didn't load your gun before you came here did you?

Stay Tuned

It's getting late...

I have to get up at 5:30 am tomorrow...

But I have GREAT blogging fodder in my back pocket...

It'll have to wait 'till tomorrow...

I just wanted to tease you a little...

Three hints: FBI, Cub Scout Pack Meeting, Pepper spray and P o r n...

P.S. I promise it won't be dirty. Scout's Honor!

What To Do When the Santa Monica Sun Beckons

The weather was superb today. It could not be helped...We had to enjoy. We live only a mile or so away: The Pacific was calling out to us.

I warned the boys the water would be cold, and they ought not get too wet or they'd freeze on the bus ride home.

That warning went unheeded.
They were armpit deep before I could blink.

So I decided to ignore them as they splashed on the silky shore. They would eventually thaw. Instead of joining them, I would catch up on my reading and soak--Not in the salt water, but the glorious sun.

Aaaaaaah! So very relaxing!

That wasn't very successful, either.

Facebook Has Sucked My Soul.

For the first time since I have started this blog, I have had so very little to say. As I go throughout the day on most days, I can find something that happens to me or my family that is blog-worthy. Or, at the very least, I can come up with something to reminisce/muse about. But of late... ZIP... ZILCH... NADA. The well has run dry, people! My mind is the freaking Sahara. I'm even out of tags. Who runs out of tags, I ask? I think I have posted about 632 random facts about me, my husband, my children, my former jobs, what I have done throughout the day, etc. on any number of tags... Not that it was ever interesting in the first place, but at least it got the creative juices flowing and I might be able to work in a bit of humor that would satisfy the blogging beast.

*Tap, tap, tap* Is this thing on? Does anybody even check this blog anymore?

Perhaps if I just start typing, something witty and/or profound will emerge.

.....

Nope. Still a barren dessert.

.....

What is a girl to do? Perhaps it's Facebook that is to blame. Maybe my creative juices have shriveled and died thanks to an endless stream of third person entries about my days: i.e. "Shana has spent another day wrestling kids into the dental chair." "Shana has two very noisy children. She is contemplating sewing their lips shut." "Shana doesn't care about American Idol this year. She is just happy Tatiana's histrionics didn't get her any further." "Shana needs chocolate."

Hey! That sounds tasty. Maybe that will grease the wheels a bit. Pardon me for a moment...

...

Aaaaah! Delicious, and perhaps a bit inspiring. I will attempt to ramble while enjoying the sweet and savory meltiness of my favorite vice slowly dissolving on my palate.

...

So anyways... Back to Facebook... Ever since I joined, I have had a blogger breakdown. I know other people who are able to successfully do both. For me, it almost seems they are mutually exclusive. Which sucks, because I have a need for both. Facebook has its place because satisfies my curiosity about what distant friends/ family/ acquaintances/ people I went to school with/ people that used to stalk me/ people I haven't laid eyes on since before puberty/ etc. are up to now. Let's be honest. You aren't REALLY going to develop any deep bonds through 150 characters or less at any given post on somebody's wall. It's just fun to see how things turned out for people.

Blogging, on the other hand, allows for a personality to come through. For instance, someone perusing my Facebook profile may never find out how cynical and biting my sense of humor can be. They will likely never know how I muse about pomegranates and my former days as a playground bully. Visit my blog, and that becomes glaringly apparent. Bottom line: I am much more "me" on here than on my "Wall."

So where did I go? Where is that personality of which I speak? Has she defected to the shallow world of online social networking? Will she forever stay in this rut of speaking of herself in third person? AAAAAAAAARGH! I/She can't stop doing it?!?

She'll be back someday soon, I'm sure. But for now, she is going to raid the chocolate again in a shallow attempt at assuaging her bitter disappointment of a lame and pointless post that went nowhere. Forgive her.

Working in a Hospital Can Be Very Entertaining

Here is an actual conversation I overheard today:

"Hi. I'm Bob. Nice to meet you."

"Oh hi, Bob! I saw your fresh tissue sample on the desk today."


....Ummmm...What does one say to that?

How to Overcome A Fear of Flying

THANK YOU, RHONDA! I have been woefully uninspired to write anything of late. So when she offered a contest about travel stories that maybe...just maybe...could win me a trip to Connecticut this Fall, I was all over that one! It caused me to reflect on some of my travel adventures and brought this little doozy to mind:

When Nathan was a toddler, he and I took a plane ride to visit my family. Anyone who has traveled with kids knows how much crap one needs to tote in order to survive the ordeal; And when airplane travel is the mode of transport, one needs to be EXTRA prepared in order to keep the kid from driving the other passengers mad. So, as I preboarded with Nathan for the short Southwest flight, I took advantage of the extra space that bulkhead seating would provide the two of us, and got ourselves situated for the one hour flight.

We were right up front on the plane, and the seats in our little enclave were passed by most of the passengers trying to avoid having to sit by the only active, squirmy little kid on the flight. Finally, as the last vestiges of the boarding passengers made their way onto the plane, looked around furtively for ANY spot besides the one facing us in the bulkhead area, one poor unfortunate soul sat down ruefully in the seat directly across from me and my talkative little carry-on.

This man did NOT look well. He clutched his briefcase as though his life depended on it. His brow was furrowed and dewy with nervous sweat. He often rocked back and forth in an obvious effort to self-sooth. All the while, Nathan proceeded to examine his surroundings, peppering me with questions like, "What does this thing do?" "Why do all those ladies have the same outfits on?" "How does a plane work?" "When are we going to eat?" "Why do we have to wear seat belts?"

...And as the engines revved up, the questions became more pointed: "What keeps the plane in the air?" "Do planes ever CRASH!!!" (...this last question was embellished by sound effects.) At this point, my nervous neighbor's rocking reached a high point, and the man started muttering to himself, "Crash?! Do planes ever crash?" And with each of Nathan's questions along these lines, the agitation in my obviously phobic neighbor kept building, knuckles growing increasingly whiter as the briefcase looked like he would tear right through the leather, and Nathan's questions repeated tersely under his breath. "If the plane crashes, do we DIE?" "Do we die?" "What happens if the plane falls in the ocean?" "What HAPPENS?"


So I am in this very awkward position, trying to placate my child and answer his questions to a satisfactory level that will cause them to cease, AND trying to ease this man's anxiety so that he doesn't completely LOSE IT on the airplane. So my voice became this man's lifeline as I soothingly explained to Nathan, "Airplanes are very safe."

...Which the man muttered under his breath while maintaining his steady rocking motion, "Very safe...Very safe."

I continue: "We are not going to crash."

*More rocking* "NOT going to crash. NOT going to crash.*

"We don't have to worry."

"Don't worry. Don't worry."

As this routine kept on during those anxious moments of take off, I could see the man's fingers loosen up on the briefcase a bit. The rocking became a little less vehement. The brow softened a bit.

Before long, Nathan had become bored with the topic. "Mommy? Where do peanuts come from?" My neighbor had no reply. He just popped a couple of pills and ordered a drink.