Those oh so dreadful song lyrics...

You know the ones... they're morally reprehensible and serve no purpose but to pollute young minds with thoughts of violence, greed, infidelity and irresponsibility.

I mean, for gawd's sake, check out THESE lyrics that my daughter brought home from school today... I know you know the song, but have you EVER paid attention to the actual words?


http://www.momsminivan.com/lyrics.html
In a cavern, in a canyon,
Excavating for a mine,
Lived a miner, forty-niner,
And his daughter Clementine.

CHORUS
Oh my darling, oh my darling,
Oh my darling Clementine
You are lost and gone forever,
Oh my darling, Clementine.

Light she was, and like a fairy,
And her shoes were number nine,
Herring boxes without topses,
Sandals were for Clementine. [Chorus]

Drove she ducklings to the water
Every morning just at nine,
Hit her foot against a splinter,
Fell into the foaming brine. [Chorus]

Ruby lips above the water,
Blowing bubbles soft and fine,
But alas, I was no swimmer,
So I lost my Clementine. [Chorus]

In a churchyard near the canyon,
Where the myrtle doth entwine,
There grow roses and other posies,
Fertilized by Clementine. [Chorus]

Then, the miner, forty-niner,
Soon began to peak and pine,
Though in life I used to hug her,
Now she's dead I draw the line. [Chorus]

In my dreams she still doth haunt me,
Robed in garments soaked with brine,
Though in life I used to hug her,
Now she's dead I draw the line. [Chorus]

Listen fellers, head the warning
Of this tragic tale of mine,
Artificial respiration
Could have saved my Clementine. [Chorus]

How I missed her, how I missed her,
How I missed my Clementine,
Till I kissed her little sister,
And forgot my Clementine. [Chorus]

Or how about this one? Did you know it's about the plague?

http://www.zelo.com/FAMILY/NURSERY/ringroses.asp
Ring-a-ring o' roses,
A pocket full of posies,
Achoo!, Achoo!
We all fall down.


Don't even get me started on Little Bunny Foo Foo... all that head bopping and goon creating.

Disgraceful, I tell you! Do we pay NO attention to what we're teaching our children?

I'm a retro girl...

It's true. I'm a bit behind the times. I still tend to hum Rick Springfield under my breath far more often than I do ... well... whoever is popular now.

I adopted the grunge look along with everyone else in the early 90's... and I've steadfastly stuck with it to the point that my neice wants to 'report me' to What-Not-To-Wear and Kendra has threatened to burn all my black v-neck t-shirts.

But ya know... I'm 34 years old. I really should be updating something... somewhere... yes? I realized the other day that I still have a Rollins Band t-shirt that I wear pretty often. And I think of it as an 'older' shirt. It's 17 years old! The SHIRT is the same age I was when I bought it!!!!! F*ck.

And my favorite jeans? I was lamenting the other day about the quality of them because they're falling apart. But ya know what? I bought them in 1994. They SHOULD be rags.

But honestly... can any of you picture me in anything except what I've been wearing every day since 1991? Really?

Someone needs to take me shopping. Any volunteers?

Help?

I don't 'get' the games that everyone plays on their PCs... WoW and Evercrack? I have Frogger on my PS2 and that makes me happy.

So someone explain to me why I am obsessed w/the Sims. I really thought that the people going so crazy over it when it came out, and soooo anticipating Sims2 were slightly dim. Barbie dolls for grownups, right?

But holy cow. I d/l the original off Limewire the other night and I play until I crash. I *gasp* found myself talking about the characters as if they had personalities! I have become a crazy person.

I'm buying Sims2 tonight for the playstation. Someone shoot me.

I'd like to thank the Academy...

Ok, not really. But this is interesting and so I'm sharing it.

http://www.rd.com/content/the-new-science-of-being-thankful/

What if, instead of wallowing in our misery, we all chose to focus on being valued by a dear friend, for example, or the memory of a colleague’s face when she receives a surprise birthday cake at work, or the smooth ride we’ve had to work in the past week? As science is now proving, feeling grateful can actually make us healthier, literally. Practicing gratitude, acknowledging the blessings in our lives and making it a point to recognize the good things can change us positively. We’ll sleep better and exercise more. We’ll feel more optimistic. We’ll be more alert and active. And if we do this over a period of time, we’ll realize that we’re making progress toward our life goals.

I like this idea. And for the past couple of years, since my life essentially melted down and I had to claw my way back up, I've been making a concerted effort to be thankful for the little things rather than worried about the OTHER little things. And so far it's working.

I'm happier. I'm more centered. I'm a better mom. I don't sweat the small stuff, and I'm noticing more and more that I don't even notice the small stuff - can you notice that you're not noticing? Well, I have.

Other people are noticing too... I was called happy and social the other day. ME! No kidding. Craziness.

So yeah... being thankful, even if it's for a stunningly gorgeous moon rising over the horizon, or the sunrise greeting you when you open your front door... thankfulness tends to create things to be thankful for.

Put your head down and keep moving...

That's been my philosophy since Stupidhead lost his mind and decided that his calling was making my life hell. Sometimes, like today, I feel like I just can't keep moving forward anymore. Not because of any huge dramatic THING but just because.

But, of course, I can't. Because I'm a mom - and a single one at that - and Moms just don't get to stop.

And then I hear about these people... the Raramuri, or Tarahumara - the running people. Apparently, this smallish population of native mexican people make running a way of life. They practice persistence hunting... running for up to 160km (100 miles to you n me) without stopping. That's right. They will RUN FOR 100 MILES without stopping to kvetch about their sore footsies.

And why on earth would they do this insane thing? Because eventually their prey gets tired and they can get close enough to kill it with their rudimentary weapons - sticks and stones.

There's inspiration to be found there somewhere... now I just wonder if I'm the Indian or the deer... ;)

Freak accidents

This is a sad blog, so feel free to skip it.

As some of you already know, I had to have Orca put down on Tuesday night. She was playing in the pasture with another horse and took a kick that was at just the right angle... just the right amount of force... just the right amount of torsion as she turned away... and her leg was broken. Just like that. A blink. A kick. A horse just being a horse, and she's gone.

I got there right after the vet, and he didn't even need to show me the x-rays. Her leg wasn't right and anyone familiar with how the leg between the stifle joint and hock should be shaped would have known that the bone was broken.

She was in the prime of her life. An athlete like no horse I've ever known. That stupid horse would do laps of the pasture... just running. Not kicking up her heels, not playing, just ... running for the sheer pleasure of the wind in her mane. I loved to watch her almost more than I loved to ride her.

It's unfair and I'm going to rail against god a bit until I'm done being angry about it, but I have to be thankful for a couple of things too...

Orca was my dream horse. She was the horse that I dreamt of as a girl when I was riding all those scrubby ponies and the horses no one else could ride and begging for riding time from friends with horses and cleaning stalls for the opportunity to try not to get killed on some unbroke psychopath. All that time, I had this Thoroughbred that lived in my head. She was going to be 16 hands tall, and LOVE to jump. I wouldn't have to teach her how, because she'd just know how to pick spots and sail over fences. She'd have a star on her forehead and one sock - a small one, not too flashy. And she'd love me and no one else. No one else would even want to ride her - but she would come to me when I called her and nuzzle me and do anything I asked.

And she came true. Not everyone gets that lucky, yanno?

And I have to be thankful that my prayers weren't answered this time. The whole time I was driving up to the farm, I was making promises to god. Promising that I wasn't going to be greedy. That I would accept lame for life as long as I didn't have to choose death. I promised that if all she was ever suitable for was a pasture ornament, I'd accept that.

And that was selfish. Because you can't take a thoroughbred - or even a Paint who's only 90% thoroughbred - and punish them like that. You can't take a marathon runner and tell them to be happy that they can no longer walk. You just can't.

So I'm thankful that god knew that none of us really wanted to do that to Orca and took the decision out of my hands by making it a break that couldn't be fixed.

I'll miss her more than I can fathom. I will never replace her. She was my first love.

Bits and Pieces

I am a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad Mom. Really. I completely and totally forgot that last night was Wild's back to school night. It's no excuse that I'd had a REALLY busy and REALLY stressful day, or that I don't have the girls on Thursday nights and so had no one to remind me. I forgot. Didn't go. Passed up the chance to meet all of her teachers. I suck.

Had a second interview yesterday for a purchasing position. They offered me the job, and while the salary offered is well withing the average range for that type of position, it's $5000 less/year than I was making at my other job. Sort of. Anyway, I accepted it because the $12/hour that they're offering for 90 days with a raise after that, is more than the $8.75/hour that unemployment pays, and I do have kids to feed.

I have a second interview scheduled with another company on Tuesday. Funnily enough, I REALLY want this job and part of the reason I accepted teh other one is because I hadn't heard back from these people and had lost hope that I would. So, I informed them that I was going to start work with another company on Tuesday but that I was VERY interested in interviewing for the position and asked if they could schedule me an evening interview. They were VERY accomodating and I have an interview with them on Tuesday at 5. I'm one of two candidates they've narrowed it down to.

The average salary for this position in KC is $31,000 MORE PER YEAR than the position I just accepted. That's right. More than TWICE what the job I accepted pays. Only slightly less than 2X what my last job paid. It's like a Cinderella story. Even if they didn't come anywhere near that amount, they already know what I made at my last job, and have already said "This position would represent a significant increase over your last position."

Cross your fingers. But regardless of what happens, at least I get to get up and go to work on Tuesday.

Have to go renew my tags today. Yup. I waited until the last day of the month to do-so. Aren't I BRILLIANT? Thankfully, I'm going to renew them in the next county over since that's where I owe property taxes and they have to be paid before I can renew, and that county only has 35,000 total residents. They can't ALL have tags that expire in August, right?

Ya know my horses that come when called? That just can't get to you fast enough and practically put their own halters on for you? They were supposed to get their toenails trimmed the other day. Apparently neither one of them would let anyone get close to them. Now, granted, I have NEVER had a person other than myself or Robbin attempt to catch my horses for me, but I have always just assumed that they would walk up to anyone to be caught since they come RUNNING hell bent for leather up to me. Apparently I was wrong. No pedicures for them.

I filed a contempt motion against Stupidhead on Monday. It was totally justified, and very well-founded and well-organized. But I'm still nervous as hell about it. The shit is going ot hit the proverbial fan when he gets served. And there's a very large, albeit chickenshit, part of me that wants to just take it all back. Go to the courthouse and tell the judge to forget he ever saw it. I hate that part of me.