Trying Not to Ralph

So, here’s my dilemma: I have my ballot here in front of me. I’ve researched out the local candidates and issues. I’ve filled the sucker in – but I just cannot do it. I cannot stomach voting for either of the Presidential nominee choices – they both S-U-C-K (sorry, Mom, I know you hate that word – that’s why I spelled it out, so as not to be too offensive). I vote that we clear the slate and re-do Primaries.

To give balance to my previous anti-Obama post. McCain’s health plan has SKUNK written all over it – it reeks. Plus, thus far, I think he’s been an idiot about the economy, which is pretty huge right now. And seriously when push comes to shove Obama is cool, the guy is Crème Brule smooth. If there were a major event in America (as Biden insists there will be) then Obama appears to be a leader who could keep things calm. It’s just too bad about the whole redistribute the wealth thing.

But in the end neither seems to have any idea what the American people want, or even who the average “Joe” is. I would love to know how anyone out there makes this decision – is there some spreadsheet out there that lists the issues and each of their prospective policies on it? Ralph Nader here I come!

Oh, this should so be his selling line, I bet he would win:

VOTE FOR NADER- because the alternatives make you want to RALPH

For the record:

I tried to pretend I was a fun mom today, so I made play-dough from scratch with my littles. Emily held it for a minute, informed me that it smelled gross and refused to touch it again.

Taylor enjoyed sitting on it.

The End

State of the Nation

With the craziness of the economy, frustrations about lack of reasonable choices in politics, and the freaky things I hear that are going on in our nation when listening to Glenn (yep, we're on a first name basis now), I was wondering if this insanity is, well, the beginning of the end in a sense. (Our first socialist President - Yippee! - I hope it's not the beginning of a new beginning. . . )

I came across this quote that was so fitting for today:

"The Lord’s hand is over all, and therein I acknowledge his hand. Not that men are at war, not that nations are trying to destroy nations, not that men are plotting against the liberties of their fellow creatures, not in those respects at all; but God’s hand is not shortened. He will control the results that will follow. He will overrule them in a way that you and I, today, do not comprehend, or do not foresee, for ultimate good."
“Chapter 44: Preparing for the Second Coming of Christ,” Teachings of Presidents of the Church: Joseph F. Smith, 389

I hope it helps you sleep, as I think it will for me. Nevertheless, I'm still trying to figure out how to make a yard sign that reads: Support Karl Marx - Vote Obama '08. Any suggestions?

Killin' Time

Things have been pretty “killer” for us lately. Last week our sliding glass door got left open for a good hour and a half and our house – kitchen especially – was swarmed (I am not exaggerating here) with flies. I thought I’d been transplanted onto a dairy! Emily came in and said, “It’s killin’ time! Mom where’s the killin’ thing?” Since then, whenever she sees more flies she shouts “We need to do more killin’!” Definitely her father’s daughter.

On Monday Morgan went in to get a mole removed from her side. She called him Mister Squishy, and was tired of the babies following behind her screaming “Squishy” and wanting to push on her mole (it was one of those ones that stick out quite a bit). However, Mister Squishy wouldn’t give up the ghost that easily and the spot kept bleeding and bleeding. I suggested to Morgan the following day, when she came up from bed with her side, PJs, and bedding soaked in blood, that perhaps his new name should be Bloody Mary. She, of course, didn’t think I was as funny as I did.

Well, long story long, I had to take off all the Band-Aids and cotton gauze that I had been trying to absorb the blood with so it wouldn’t ruin her clothes. In the process the gauze pad was so blood soaked that it had coagulated like Jell-o onto it. Then when I got down to the actual sore, even though it was small, it was still pushing up fresh blood. New experience for me, but my stomach turned.

I, always a fan of mind over matter, ignored the tingly dizzy sensation I was beginning to feel and proceeded to put on a new Band-Aid and then new cotton padding to absorb the extra blood. All of the sudden my stomach turned, so I dashed into the bathroom (with much discretion, of course, as to not upset Morgan). Then while in the bathroom I noticed the lights doing weird things and my head feeling a bit woozy.

I, mind over matter again, told myself I was going to be just fine and just needed to get back to my bedroom and lay down for a minute. I left the bathroom, but next thing I know I am “waking up” on the floor in my bedroom doorway, with the memory of the sound of two thuds in my head, wondering why I wasn’t in bed. Result: two killer knots on my forehead – but luckily no bruising. I think I took out the door with my head, but luckily there were no little eyes to witness. So, Linda, count me in, I’m officially a Moss woman now!

Last event, is a product of my killer dog. Emily was outside and she came in and said “There’s a funny boy in Daisy’s kennel. Him talked to me.” I asked what he said and she just made mumbo jumbo noises, so I disregarded it as an imaginary fancy. However, a few minutes later I noticed the neighbor’s dogs going crazy. I assumed it was the meter reader, went to the side to take a look, saw nothing came back in, put Daisy in the house, and then had a feeling I should look again.

Emily proceeded to put Daisy from our house into the garage, which has a door out to the kennel. Long story short, by the time I got back around to the side of the house there was a 250 lb man hanging over the top of our wood paneled fence and Daisy barking with great ferocity underneath him.

Poor man, he was new on the route, not knowing we made the kennel so there was utility access from the outside, went into the kennel and got locked in, then Emily let Daisy in, and well. . . . he was red faced, pouring sweat, and looking like a heart attack waiting to happen. I’m sure he told Emily to go get her mom; it’s too bad that she didn’t pass along that message. She probably let Daisy out and told her, “It's killin’ time!”