My husband started a war and now I kind of feel sorry for the refugees

I’m not sure where Mr. Strong developed such a hatred strong dislike for squirrels but if they had the right representation, he’d be accused of discrimination based on fur color breed. 

I could probably distract him from his self-imposed mission of ridding the yard of squirrels if only Ms. Poopy would quit barking at them. All. The. Time.

Despite a gimpy yapping dog and a crazed man with a BB gun, the squirrels have decided to set up camp and stay.  It was when the fourth squirrel’s nest showed up that Mr. Strong declared war.  First, he went to gather some ammunition cut down a huge bamboo pole.

The bamboo pole was as longer than the truck and we had to shove it through the back window so I could hang onto it.  We were styling as we drove through town hurried home so Mr. Strong could begin the battle with the squirrels.

The game plan was to just mess up their nests that are strong enough to sustain hurricane force winds so that they’d move somewhere else.

The bamboo pole was perfect for reaching the nests and stirring them up.

When ground fighting became too tiring, Mr. Strong took to the skies climbed up to the roof.

One squirrel went running after the Great Tree Shake Up of 2009.  I assume the rest will come home this evening to face devastation.

 

I do hope the squirrels will face facts and move on and so do the neighbors so they won’t have to listen to Ms. Poopy barking at them anymore.

Would it be wrong of me to leave some bird seed out there for homeless yard rats?

Do you know Lucifer? He works at my gym.

In an effort to get in better shape, I lost my freaking mind and signed the husband and I up to meet with a trainer once a week.

As it looks now, I have a standing date with Satan the trainer every Tuesday evening. Tuesdays with Lucifer.

This past Tuesday, we worked on upper body issues strength. The end result has been ridiculous. I can't even get food into my pie hole. Getting dressed is an exercise in torture. I'm considering sleeping in my contacts and skipping the dental hygiene.

In fact, my husband has a new life goal. Get strong enough to kick Lucifer's ass.

Today, at school, I was sitting in the Opportunity Room (you know, the room where you have the opportunity to straighten up and make better choices) with Mr. I Will Pee Pee in My Pants on Purpose when suddenly the child ran to the school intercom phone on the wall.

Mr. I Will Pee Pee in My Pants on Purpose (as he hastily grabbed the phone): "Hello... Hello... Oppicer." What the heck?! He is calling an officer on me?!

Me (sorely, getting up): "Put the phone down. It is time to calm down and get our work completed." I really did sound that calm. In my mind, I was thinking, "You tried to call the cops?! You little *#@%!"

Mr. I Will Pee Pee in My Pants on Purpose (beginning to freak out, then slams the phone up against his head): "Ow! Ow! My ear! You hit my ear! I'm going to tell my momma!"

Isn't that some crap?! I wasn't even touching Mr. Stinky Pants the kid. Never mind the fact that I can't even lift my freaking arms.

I probably should send Lucifer a thank you note for causing me so much pain because while I was on the verge of getting really irritated with that kid, I ended up just laughing. My inability to move provided me with the comic relief to just laugh and laugh. I'm pretty sure I scared that kid into acting right and flying straight. Crazy people can have that affect on people.

Now, how about some pain pills. Anyone willing to share?

Can we conjugate nouns?

As Little Ms. Know It All was reading something in her book, she suddenly became confused by a challenging word.

Little Ms. Know It All: "What is this word here?"

4th Grade Teacher: "That is the word cacti. It is plural for cactus."

Little Ms. Know It All (with a confused look): "Huh?"

4th Grade Teacher: "It means more than one cactus. When there is more than one cactus we say cacti."

Little Ms. Know It All (clearly not liking that she didn't know something): "Well, I've never heard of it before. How was I supposed to know."

A few minutes pass by when all of a sudden Little Ms. Know It All is back in front of the teacher.

Little Ms. Know It All: "Oh. I get it. Cacti is kind of like possi (pronounced pos-eye)."

4th Grade Teacher (with a confused look): "Huh?" "Excuse me?"

Little Ms. Know It All (feeling oh so confident): "You know. Possi. Like when there is more than one possum."

This is a very angry parent

Just saw the headlines on CNN: "This is a very angry fire" in regards to all the burning going on in California which my grandmother used to say was going to fall off into the ocean one day. And I began to wonder. Why is it only the angry fires make the news? And are there nice fires?

It isn't but a hop, skip and jump for me to get my mind back on the parent I will have a meeting with this afternoon. And I didn't lose any sleep over this. Those bags under my eyes are always this dark. CNN would likely call her an angry parent but I won't bet on it as logic doesn't seem to be the strong suit of the media. And she is bringing her advocate who is a scary *#&@.

At the very end of May, the judge expelled her son from school. The parent was given a laundry list of things to do. The one I was most excited about was the mandatory counseling the child was to receive. Still, I had hoped the mother would have to take some parenting classes. A girl can dream, right? As it turns out, the mother did finally do what the judge required her to do just not in the time line MOST parents would have done it in.

Today, we meet to discuss reentering the child into school. A few of the big wigs from the School Board Office will be at the meeting so I guess I should gussy myself up a bit.

My plan is to just sit back and let them deal with the wrath of this angry parent because God knows I've dealt with it plenty of times over the past few years. She isn't going to like that her child will be moved to the Alternative School.

Maybe CNN can make a headline for me: "This is a very happy administrator."

Does this mean I am losing it?

Last night, I cooked dinner for Mr. Strong's birthday. While I was getting the salad ready, I looked and looked for the big salad bowl we have. After looking in all the cabinets, I gave up and put the salad in a smaller bowl.

This morning, I was playing around with my camera and my new lens. Mr. Strong often puts funny messages on the chalkboard. This one says, "For Sale Children - Slightly Used" in case you can't ready his elementary handwriting. He is this funny everyday and I never want to stuff a sock in it.

Suddenly, I noticed a large bowl beside the pig.



Dang it! There was the bowl I was looking for the night before. How could I have missed that?

It has been holding our hodge podge of fruit now for about 6 months.


Maybe I should put Miss Poopy in charge of the kitchen. Does anyone have any good recipes for backyard birds?

And why would you want me to do that?

As Mr. School Stinks was sitting at the lunch table with the other first graders, he suddenly sneezed so forcefully, we had to replace two of the meals for the unlucky students showered sitting across from him.

After the hysteria had died down, I gently reminded Mr. School Stinks to use his hands or the crook of his arm the next time he felt a sneeze coming. Mr. School Stinks gave me one of his infamous puppy dog head tilted confused looks.

Me (trying to explain): "If you cover your nose and mouth, all that stuff won't blow everywhere."

Mr. School Stinks (who earned that name for a reason): "But then my arm will get all wet." Bada bing!

I honestly didn't know what else to say.

And just how high was that bar?

This afternoon, I had a meeting with Mr. Funny and one of the assistant principals at the small town they call a school his high school. Since this is Mr. Funny's senior year, we were making plans to send him to a college as far away from Georgia as possible to apply to quite a few schools. Feel sorry for me now. I'm about to be broke. Mr. Funny has worked hard to earn good grades and to score well on his ACT and SAT tests and I am proud of him.

As I was driving away from the school, I had a flashback of the last time I'd had to meet with someone at Mr. Funny's school. That had been a fun emotional scary little meeting with Mr. Funny and the middle school principal.

It seemed that Mr. Funny had photoshopped a picture of the principal's face onto a picture of Hitler with an outstretched arm. To the side was the caption, "We raise the bar this high."

Actually, I thought it was rather creative. And funny.

As the principal threw around words like "expel" and "suspension", I realized he failed to see the humor in the situation. In the end, it turned out that Mr. Funny had not done any of the crime altering of the photo while at school. The principal had found out about the picture from other students which revealed the REAL stupidity in his actions. He had emailed the picture to some friends! Idiot!.

It was up to me to punish him. And punish him I did.

That event was event was almost 5 years ago. Do you think it might be time to lift the photo shop restriction?