A mini return of Potter's Ground Game

Not a rememberer of the Potter's Ground?

Well, you must be new. Welcome!

The first video is for fun. And just because I am a happily married hottie doesn't mean i can't appreciate a song about being dumped.

"I kind of always knew
I'd end up as your ex girlfriend
I hope I hold a special place
with the rest of them."


good stuff Gwen, good stuff.
Especially since this song was written about her husband.


Лучшее видео на yashik.tv - No Doubt - Ex-Girlfriend

SO answer me this-Which children's show does this next video reference via the visuals and what is your favorite kid's show?

The more you share, the more you score!


Лучшее видео на yashik.tv - No Doubt ft. Bounty Killer ...


place nice!

we shall see how this goes, maybe there will be a full on return of the Potter's Ground! :)

This is why I am married, right here

I was on the phone with Mr. Hall, telling him all about my recent yoga class.

A group of women from the class, plus the instructor, were talking about their recent trip to Costa Rica. It was a Yoga Retreat. I've heard about these events before, usually a group of Yogi (person(s) who practices yoga) go to some exotic locale, like Costa Rica. They all stay a resort, have specialized yoga instruction for a week, eat all native and delicious foods. Generally, on these retreats, Yogis have themselves a fabulous time doing what we love and practicing yoga.

One of the women talked about what it felt like to be responsible only to herself. She has four kids. I could sympathize with her. To say the least.

It didn't sound very expensive either.

These resorts are not four star type resorts. They are yoga studios with rooms to bunk and a kitchen. Not really posh, just streamlined. And really, the simplicity of the studios are meant to contrast with the Costa Rican surroundings. To contrast with the work being done by the Yogis. The fancy stuff goes on on the inside. It all sounded very surreal and dreamlike, listening to them.

"You should go to one of those babe." Says Mr. Hall.

"Oh, I don't know, I mean, if I was going to go to Costa Rica I would want you and the kids to come. Well, maybe leave the kids behind, but I mean, I would want you there." Says I.

"yeah, but really, if I was there, we would be focused on each other. And Yoga is your time, to focus on yourself. I bet you could get a lot of done there. It would be cool I think. And don't worry about me and the kids, you know we'll be just fine. Is there a trip coming up?" Says He.

Mr. & Mrs. Hall discuss sex or lack thereof (HISTORIC POST UPDATE)

The night before ....


It's four in the morning something when wakes us up. All the way up. Gotta pee then try not to walk into walls as we zombie walk to bed kind of up. Back in bed, I close my eyes and immediately start REM sleeping. Then, I am yanked back to reality by two distinct sighs. They sound kind of like bow-chicka-wah-wow.

FOUR IN THE GODDAMN MORNING.

We were sleeping! Dead asleep. Snoring, dreaming, drool on the pillow asleep. We were woken accidentally, we just used the bathroom. Back in bed in less than 3 minutes flat. And we just had a rousing round of the maritals-less than six hours before.

Yet, there it was, the very distinct set of sighs. There would be no slumber.

Mr. Hall: "Ahh, yeah, I think it’s business time."

It boggles the mind, the male sex drive.

The next night, we have this discussion.

Mrs. Hall: So, what do guys do between girlfriends? I mean, what do men do with all that energy?

Mr. Hall: What do you mean?

Mrs. Hall: Well, what do men do between girlfriends with, um, the energy. I know for you, well being around me, it's worse than baseline because well, you love me like you do. It's more than sex drive that drives you crazy for me. And well, you have really been thoughtful and have only had sex with women you loved. So what do other men do with the energies?

Mr. Hall: (a shit eating grin appears)

Bar sluts

Mrs. Hall: JEFF!!! THAT’S NOT NICE TO SAY!! I mean, these energies are ridiculous. Have you ever sought out, um, a bar slut? I mean, that's so sad, those women, ug, they are women with feelings. gaaah.

Mr. Hall: Nah, noone would want to do that sort of thing, I mean, bars are full of women but, ug, the smoke, the skank factor alone . . . .

Mrs. Hall: So what then, what do men do? I mean it’s so sad, ‘to just take care of it’, I mean that’s so sad.

Mr. Hall: Yeah, kind of. But, ya do what ya gotta do.

Mrs. Hall: Well, then, your’re lucky you have me.

Mr. Hall: Lucky indeed.

And then, well, It was business time . .




HISTORIC POST UPDATE:

Mr. Hall made the very first genuine comments in the comments below. Comments there were neither provoked or translated through Mrs. Hall. And yes, everything he says is true. kissess smooches Mr. Hall ;)

Speaking of Jamaica

You people have no idea how much I've wanted to put some of Sean Paul's music here.

But it's embarrassing in video form. I mean, Sean Paul is not a thug but a college educated and very well spoken man. He uses terms like "brain drain" in his interviews. And he can't really dance. And his videos are extremely low budget. it's embarrassing.

that being said.


"Everyday, we be burnin'
not concernin'
what nobody wanna say"

Is part of the chorus and it is very soothing when I listen to it on the ipod.

Oh, just close your eyes and listen.

Or open them, there's hot chicks in the video :)

But take note, this post will directly relate to the next post.

This is a warm up. :)




Poor is the person
whose pleasure depends
on the permission of others.

word up Sean Paul, word up.

If it's wrong, I don't want to be right

Mr. Hall will be away for work during the next four days. Halting both my access to him and the progress on the house. So, it's me and the kids. They are jovial and pounding on each other as siblings are wont to do. Good to have her home. :)

Here was are. Just us. In a house that is not our home.

So, let's watch this. From the movie "Swingers."



And let's enjoy ourselves a Red Stripe, because it sort of quiets things, and with the temp climbing to 100 degrees . . . . I can pretend I am in Jamaica.

And then, lets enjoy this little ditty, extolling the virtues of libations.



Only one though. After all, it's called 'mother's little helper' (NOT PLURAL)

and this is wrong, I don't want to be right :)

have a good weekend all.

One flew over the cuckoo's nest is mentioned a lot at my job

My job is to be a Psychiatric Nurse Practitioner. Nurse for short. I work at an outpatient mental health clinic. I love my job.

There is a stigma attached to mental health care. A stigma to both the diagnoses and the treatments. I discuss this stigma during the intake appointments. Most everyone fears being called crazy and being put in the hospital. The other ideas and stigmas are more age specific.

I have older patients (80's) who are open to the process. However, they are often puzzled about seeing me. They had no idea anything was wrong. Their visits are usually triggered by a screening questionnare during a visit with their primary care doctor. They answer some basic questions and it comes up flaming positive. Again, they had no idea.

For instance, I recently asked an older gentleman about his sleep. He denied any issues, said his sleep was just fine really. Then I asked him if his wife had noticed anything about his sleep. He said, "Well, she hasn't slept in the same bed for 20 years because I thrash around and have nightmares most nights." This floors me. Absolutely makes my jaw drop.



Then, there are the younger people 18-24, barely able to shave. These patients are fun. They have a better understanding of what they are doing here. They are in a hurry and just want it 'fixed'. They are malleable and energetic. Perfect for 'fixing'. There is a difficulty though, with this age group. They often have a hard time listening. I adjust the language I use accordingly.

Then there are the men of a certain age. A group of men who have distinct fears and distrust. They are mostly 45-60 years of age. During the intake appointment, most every time, they almost always bring up this movie.

One flew over the Cookoos' Nest.

This movie, I swear to you, is mentioned at least once a week at my job. Yesterday was some kind of record, I heard about it three times in one day.

Now, I have not seen this movie. It came out a year before I was born. I haven't looked it up in wikipedia either. Every time a patient brings it up, I ask them to tell me about it. What they know and feel about the movie is more important then me seeing it.

Most everyone has strong feelings about this movie. And they have a lot to say about it. They tell me about Jack Nicholson, that it was one of his best movies. They mention some sort of uprising among the inmates (?) and mention the horrors of the psychiatric 'treatment'. They talk about the anger and rage they felt when Jack was forced to undergo ECT. Then, they always mention this woman. Always.

I have heard about her before this job, during my stint as a County Jail Nurse. Again, it's male patients around the age of 45-60. They don't say much about her though. They just say the name, "Nurse Rachette" and kind of shudder. I can tell that she is not a nurse. She looks like a horrible person. A wolf in sheep's clothing.



During the discussion of this movie, I assuage their fears. There are no men in white coats outside the door. We don't inject anyone with anything here. I tell them I don't really admit anyone to a psychiatric hospital. I don't use the medications that cause zombification.



I tell them this is an outpatient clinic, all that happens here, is a conversation. We just talk. That's all. Yet here's the thing.

The simplicity of the method and means is the source of it's power.



This conversation, them coming here, maybe starting medication, seeing a therapist, all of it is powerful. More powerful than the King Kong that's been pounding on their chest. More powerful then the python knotted and twisting in their stomach. I have the privilege of working with people who are changing and growing. People who come out on the other side healed.

The first step is dissolving the stigma. To have them hear what I say. My job is part sales and part tailor. I give them a sales pitch of the treatment plan I am proposing. I explain my logic in the plan, to reach their goals. A treatment plan tailored to their individual needs. This is the art and science of nursing. And this is the beauty of being a nurse.

Like I said, I love my job.

If I was not me, I would be . . .

A Roller Derby Doll. I actually looked into joining one of these teams. Turns out they practice 3-4 nights a week, 2-3 hours at a time. Right during bed/bath/story time. Then there are those games on the weekends. Weekends are for zoos and cotton candy. Alas, this will have to wait . . . .



Cirque De Soliel anyone?

Why stop there? Why not Vegas Showgirl!!!

I could be her. A lead singer in a band. A country band. Her song was cheering me the fuck up on Monday.


Her job looks like fun!


Their music was feeding me all sorts of positive love this music. But being in a band, well, it requires endless touring.


Which takes away from this.

Not even a contest people. Hands down best way to spend a life is right there.

That being said, let's hear the song that cheered me up on Monday.

Oh and I guess to be in a band and to be that woman- I would need one more thing.

WHAT A VOICE ON THIS ONE!

:)

OH YEAH, one more thing

I SMELL A MEME PEOPLE!!!

THIS right here's a meme!

Tag YOU'RE IT!

The Cedar House, a cat named Harely and bursting at the seams

This is our Cedar House (a house with Cedar Siding).
Wait, no, that's not our house!
This house is actually in California ;)

Life is good here.

Mondays are a little tough. That's when Mr. Hall absconds to the Cedar House. He took the wee Pancake with him this week. She will be sleeping in a sleeping bag. There are no beds left there. No TV, no cable. Just one tiny laptop that is broken half the time. It is an empty house that she will, most likely, see for the last time. Last time I was there was, most likely, my last time.

That weekend was fun. Sad and fantastic at the same time. Funny thing though. That Sunday, Mr. Hall and I took separate cars to our favorite breakfast spot. On the way, I stopped at a few places and to take some photos. Then I kept stopping and took more photos. Then I realized, with each stop I started lingering. Then Mr. Hall called my cell phone. He had gotten to restaurant a half hour ago. "Where are you?", He asked.



I couldn't really answer because I was too choked up. I was standing in front of the best slide in all of Cedartown, in the best park too. I was petting the cat from one of the nearby houses. Her name is Harley and is a fuzzy orange tabby. She is always at the park.

All of the kids that come here love to pet Harley. My kids loved petting her. That cat loved every kid who loved her. And here I was, without the kids, saying goodbye to Harley. I gently scratched behind her ears and rubbed under the Harley Davidson Collar. My eyes were all blurry with wet tears.



Best park ever. Even came with a cat for the kids to love on.

Hold on, gotta collect myself here.

I have lived in Cedartown, in the Cedar House, for the entire breadth of my young motherhood. We moved in when I was eight months pregnant with Pancake. Brought my dog, Henry, into that house. He ran all over the place in our back yard.

Started labor (both times) in that house. I painted fluffy clouds and Winnie the Pooh characters on the nursery walls. Each of my kids learned how to walk in that house. Each kid had their own room, decorated with their art from school.

Each room is filled with a these buoyant memories, stuffed floor to ceiling with big, fat overblown balloons. 7 years of memories, eight years of love coating the walls, soaking into the carpet. That house, it's filled with our love. Our family love.

Hold on, gotta collect myself here.

Let's turn this ship upright shall we?

Let me make this simple.



This love is not ending. It is a bit fractured right now, but it’s still thriving.

And let me say this. Mr. Hall comes here on weekends. On Mondays, he gets up at 5.30 to make the 2 hour drive back. But not today, today he lingered. We all woke up at seven am. We are tired, sore and sunburned from such a wonderful weekend.

And while I write about clicking my heels three times, he is doing the job of seven men. All manner of drywall, carpet, rewiring, trim refinishing, all of it going on at a furious pace. All of this happening in an empty house. Without his wife and kids.

But this week he has Pancake. And more understanding from his wife. A few more days, a few more weeks, all the measurements of time are small now. We are on the edge of being back together. And then the Cedar house will be filled by another family's love. Just like we took over for the previous family.

And then our next house, oh lordy, lordy, it won't know what hit it when we bust through the doors. Our love may very well burst the seams.

Happy Father's Day

This is what Daddy's do.

And Mr. Hall does it the best!


Happy Father's Day everyone!

Now Go!

Give a Dad a manly handshake and hardly slap on the back-

Maybe even give your Dad a hug! :)

Making omelettes and plotting my revenge

Making omelette's and planning the day. What you want on yours? We've got crusty french bread and strawberry jam too.

Today we are going to look at a house I absolutely love. At least from the photos I've seen so far. This house might be for keeps. The other houses we looked at were just practice.

I am quietly becoming excited, painting and decorating in my head. Picking out the kids' rooms. Making the space my own.

Reclaiming this life, rebuilding my power, if only in my head.

Then I hear a tiny voice of doubt, a tiny little voice that says, but wait, no, not yet. Don’t get your hopes up yet, too early, be cautious with your hope . . . .

To which I reply.

In the most polite way.

Fuck off. I’m dreaming here.

And let me and my sisters release all this trapped anger and frustration. This feeling of a caged wolf pacing back and forth, staring down the outside. Plotting her revenge. Let our voices rise higher and higher as we fly up, fueled by the freedom.

In front of the red stair case of course.

FYI-shut down the advert in the beginning to truly enjoy the show :)



By the way, those women beside her, they really are the singer's sisters. They did back up vocals for the song.

Which adds the beauty of it all.

Have a bountiful Saturday everyone and take care of yourselves.

Odd and innapropriate thoughts and those pesky pet peas (MR. HALL, HE SPEAKS!)

Odds and ends of interest from my busy brain-

Layed out of your amusement!

1. Soo--sleepy this morning. Had intense dreams. Monthly meeting canceled. Four hours to kill because they close the clinic because of the monthly meeting. All happy sleepy though, cute sleepy.

2. Hey look! Over there on the right! New picture in my profile! Whaddya think?

3. The campaign to turn my son gay continues thought:

Actually, it's my daughter's fault this time. She has some ballet costumes and enjoys dressing up like a 'princess'. Naturally, she wants to dress her brother up like a princess. He's kind of like a pet to her sometimes. I mean, that's what little brothers are for right? Being a pet/dress up doll?

Anywho- last night---it went down like this:

"MAC!", she says, "Wanna be a princess!!??!!" And he gets all excited cause he loves his sister. "YES!!" He squeaks. She puts one of her ballet skirts on him. He twirls around and says, "imma princess!" All smiles. They go to bed all happy and lovey.

THEN THIS MORNING . . . .

I was rubbing his fleshy playdough feet, tickling the back of his legs, watching cute cherub mouth- all twitchy with REM sleep. One tickle too many and he curled up like a roly poly bug, all smiles. Then, as I was changing his diaper, taking off his jammie shorts, he gets all stiff, grabbing the hem of the skirt, "NOOO!! My princess skirt!!"

So I let him wear it to school.

Don't worry, I paired it with a very butch outfit. Like this one.



Actually no, just a long basketball jersey and big baggy shorts. The ballet skirt was just peaking out underneath the Jersey. :)



One of the best parts of being a parent is letting it just flow. Ballet skirts and all :)

4. Intense dream and somewhat naughty thoughts from this morning:

While I was pressing my snooze alarm for the fifth time, I half dreamed that I was explaining how my snooze alarm works to the gay man sleeping in my bed. It was a fag hag half dream. Which made NO DAMN SENSE TO ME when I tried to figure it out later, while making my coffee. THEN... THEN .... I was flooded with images from my dream prior to the fag hag half dream. It was a very sensual dream starring my husband..... I was flooded with absolutely inappropriate images of hands, thighs, smooth tummy, curve of tush, boobie swell, bicep flexing and small of back images of my sweaty smiling husband and I- all while I was in the kitchen, making coffee, stirring in the skim milk... Flashbacks powered through me like a train. Knocked the wind out of me. But, I took a deep breath and pulled it together. (hee hee hee). Then I made oatmeal for the kids. Sprinkled a bit of brown sugar and raisins on top.

5. Speaking of Mr. Hall, here is the real story of the pet peas expression. It is a bit of an inside joke between Mr. Hall and I-this expression. It comes for a story he told me about a former supervisor.

Here's how I remember the story:

OK, so-the pet pea expression comes from a former boss who was annoying and/or mean. And he was a bit dumb and always screwed up common expressions like "pet pea" instead of "pet peeve?" So the workers got revenge one day. They put an industrial size can of peas on this desk and labled it "Pet Peas".

Much to my shock, I am TOTALLY WRONG HERE.

Here is the real story by Mr. Hall, MR. HALL, HE SPEAKS!!

"So the story is that a former supervisor of mine had a can of peas that someone relabeled “pet peas” for him. He was a good guy and is missed. But he was from North Dakota and was known for his malapropisms. There is a list somewhere, as one guy was tracking them. Evidently, he was yelling at the guys at some point and told them that one of his pet peas was blah blah- something they did wrong. They just laughed at him and he left the room. So no, he was not dumb. Just from the country."


Apparently I REALLY DON'T LISTEN WHEN MY HUSBAND TALKS!

I mean JEBUS! Totally didn't remember that one right!

Ah well, doesn't really matter because well, did ya read number four? All sorts of crazy love between us ;)

OK-TAKE CARE EVERY BODY!!

What kind of crazy thoughts are you having today?

Are you here for the hot chicks or the high class posts?

I get a lot of hits, or rather, a lot of one time only type traffic scoping out my posts on the 'hot moms' 'playboy' 'mommies getting spanked' 'holly madison naked' and the like. The searches for Holly Madison are ok, I mean, I did swipe the name from her, so it's only right I cyphen some traffic too. Also, Jenna Jameson brings in some traffic.

SUCKERS!!!!

So, let's test the real reason ya'll are here.

I give you the new and improved-

Mrs. Hall, the Quiz

It's only five questions now :)

Tell me how you did in the comments and even if you came here, looking for smut, THANK YOU FOR TAKING A LOOKSIE! But please, go to some virus infested site promising free porn. For everyone else THANK YOU FOR READING!!

THE QUIZ IS RIGHT HERE

:)

If I click my heels together three times . . . .

In this photo we have Mr. Hall. I told you people he's a hottie :)

Fresh from a rowdy round of yard work. Sweaty and smelling like manual labor, sticky weed stems and gas. It's quite the manly mixture.

Note the subtle expression. The eyebrows are key here. The eyebrows, they say, "My Wife, she is nuts, and she is not listening."

I took the photo while I was debating with him. I wanted to climb on top of the roof, the roof of the Cedar House. That way I could photograph the entire 60 acres of our backyard.

Ok, well, it's not 60 acres, but it is damn big. And he's says, "No babe, climbing up on the roof is not a good idea." In the photo he is saying it for the fifth time. I still don't understand why it's not a good idea, but, I trust him.

And really, such a hottie my husband! He is my Superman, my Man of Steel.

Sigh.

Some days it's easier and some days it's harder. Some days I try really hard to keep it all together. To make it through the day intact. Some days I can't. On this day, I want to add to fuel my hope. Make it grow all fiery and wicked. Because I've clicked my heels twice and all I need to do is wait. Just a few more moments.

Then I will click my heels together one more time....

And Pancake, Mac, Me and Mr. Hall will all be in a place ....

that is like no other....

Home.

And Mr. Hall, I know you are hustling too. Working so hard repainting, stripping wallpaper, installing carpeting and flooring, putting up drywall. All the manly things you do so well. You feel all of this too. Only you don't whine about it like me (smile and hug).

So let's listen up here everybody,

get your lighters ready and hold them up high!

Let's bow our heads and give thanks to the esteemed Prince of Fucking Darkness.

Take it Ozzy!

Wonders never cease

This post is about our recent trip to the indoor waterpark. Complete with hotel stay. It was Mr. Hall, Mrs. Hall (me), Pancake (daughter age 6) and Mac (son age 2).

And no, you don't get to look at the photo below unless you read the whole post!

Let's begin, shall we? :)

I am finding myself to be more helpful in planning these family vacations. I found the place, figured out how to get a discount, printed out two maps even. Did the packing, the buying of extras. I forgot the ear sticks though (aka q-tips). Which Mr. Hall has a fetish for. He loves the earsticks. I completely forgot. He was funny about it. He said, "Well, someday you'll remember, I mean, it's only been eight years of marriage, there's still time."

Best moments of the trip:

Bursting into the hotel room. Two queen beds and sofa sleeper. The sofa sleeper was separated by a half wall. I loved unfolding the sofa sleeper in front of the kids. Like pulling a rabbit out of hat. Then we went to the water park.

It is very loud. Indoor water parks are loud. Gushing water, yelping short people, finger wagging taller people, all loud. It was really warm, humid even. The water temperature is warm. Feels quite awesome, the walking around in warm humid air. Again, as pointed out here, I felt fabulous!

The toddler toddled off with Daddy. The Daddy has the ability to let Mac wander and explore at a safe distance. I have more of a Kung Fu grip. Over reactive. Mac needs to wander and discover, without a hovering mom. Mr. Hall is perfect for this. So, there they go, Mac wearing a lifejacket and cute Thomas the Train boardshorts.


Pancake was in her element. She started swim lessons this year. Loved them so much she wanted to go three times a week. So I signed her up for all three days. She was primed and ready to go in her cute pink stripey suit. With her swimgoggles firmly affixed, she swam, swam, swam. I waded behind her, grabbing at her feet.

Then we went down the water slide like 20 times. We alternated between the blue and green slides. Having lost a bunch a weight not only allows me to be a hot mom, but, all the treks up to the top? I wasn't even winded!! We had so much fun, each time she would yelp and giggle. Then during one of the rides down she said, "MAMMAA!!! THIS IS FUN! MORE FUNNER THAN SWIM CLASS!!!"

That pretty much says it all eh?

Four hours passed, four awesome and four very wet hours.

Dinner was fun. We didn't eat at the hotel. I have a pet pea with that. I also have a pet pea about Mr. Hall because he will never let me order room service. He has a thing, a moral principle, against being price gauged at hotels. I thought since I had organized the trip, he would let us eat at the hotel restaurant. But no, I was wrong, and off we went. I was kind of pissy and let him know. "Well, what did you expect, I mean, it's only been eight years now, someday you will remember." This made me laugh.

We went to one of those Mexican places where all the waiters speak Spanish easily and English notsomuch. Chips were brought to the table. The kids polished two baskets instantly. The floor was slippery from soap reside and we spend some time 'ice skating'. I ordered a strawberry daiquiri. Dinner runs long. Mac starts scaling the booth seat. Then he starts scaling the wall. Mr. Hall is still enjoying his dinner. That man never hurries when we are out to eat. Always with the 'Sure, I'll have one more cup of coffee.' While the kids are going bananas.

I love my husband. It was his birthday this weekend. So, in a semi-tipsy state, with Mac on my hip, my hand holding Pancake's, espadrilles on my feet, I wobble my way to the car. That way the kids can be crazy, but they are strapped in. I sit in the passenger seat.



I flip on the radio, we rock out. Singing and dancing in our seats. We clap and laugh. The song we play over and over . . . . . America from West Side Story!



Then the arcade. I tell Mr. hall to buy the kids 10 tokens each. I don't know why I even bother telling that man anything. He buys so many tokens, that we are at the arcade for two hours! The kids never walk the entire time. They just do that skip/hop/run thing that kids do. I am so happy. We play skee-ball (my personal favorite), Pancake does a few driving games with Daddy. Mac plays whack a mole with great zeal. There was so much giggling and squealing and running around. An arcade is like Las Vegas for kids.

Then we turned our 500 tickets into two inflatable toy hammers. Mac passes out in my arms on the walk back to the hotel room. PASSES OUT LIKE A BABY! (I would start to weep here, but not yet, too happy to be all sentimental). I want to hold him like this, all night.

Kids in bed, we pass out. No covert nookie. We just pass out. Morning comes, a good eight hours of sleep. Heaven.

We blow up the hammers. They begin to pound everything around them. Including each other.They make a squeaky dog toy noise with every whack. Very fun. We pack while they chase each other. Then I start to blubber. My family in this hotel room. I am overcome with the sheer force of it. The love floods me. I bring Mac near me, propping him up on the sink while I do my make up. He is facing me. I am in my bra and jeans. He pushes his puffy playdough feet on my belly. Mr. Hall nears, pats me on the tush, kiss on the cheek, smiling. Pancake jumps from bed to bed.



Breakfast buffet. Omelet station. Coffee. We discuss the name of the next baby. Pancake suggests "Godzilla" or "Astrilla". She always comes up with the funniest names. Then we talk of getting a turtle for her at the new house. "A turtle can protect itself by biting and retreating, he stands a chance with these kids," Mr. Hall says, "A gerbil or a hamster though . . ."

More water park. The kids are less enthusiastic. Going through the motions. Pancake and I spend a lot of time in the hot tub. Mac and Daddy come over. We skirt the rules about NO MINORS UNDER SIX. We dress and head home.

So much fun was had. I want to remember all of it. Ingrain it on my brain. I wanted to take a thousand photographs. But we were in a waterpark and chasing kids. Not ideal conditions for photographs or a camera.

I can say this, all of the sweetness of my babies, it is so, it just makes me ache with so much love.

Before we got up for the buffet, lounging in the hotel bed, Mr. Hall and I discussed our life. How it's woven so tightly with these kids. How wonderful it all is, our family life. Then we talked about what happens when they are grown. And we get large chunks our life back. Our second life as we called it. It is unimaginable right now. Such a mixture of love and vibrating achiness.

Ooo, this life I have, so full of wonders and love.


A life where wonders never cease.

Good morning all, anyone want some coffee?

Good morning all!

Making coffee and bagels here at the House of Hall. What kind you want, cinnamon raisin, blueberry, or strawberry? We got three kinds of cream cheese too!

Here's some music to get ya moving :)

Lemme know what you want in your coffee, we have soymilk or fancy creamers!

:)
My kids love this video because they can jump up and down on the bed while singing I love you .. i love you over and over! :)



or . . just enjoy some Luscious Jackson . .



yawn! lord howdy, it's not even 7.00 am yet :)

Have an awesome saturday all! :)

Fits of laughter caused by middle age farts and Windows 7 (IRONIC UPDATE)

Let me say this, I have always worked with nurses, doctors and psychologists who are in the 45-60+ range. Pre-old bastard range, more middle age farts.

I am a mental health nurse practitioner who is 33. Damn spring chicken age if you ask me! All hot and smart too!

NOW. Ya'll have heard about windows 7 right. Our organization was recently switched to this. We had a meeting about it. A big, big, big meeting.

One hundred health care professionals in hot conference room. NOT ONE OF US BELOW A MASTER'S DEGREE. Unfortunately this means a high concentration of middle age farts. They suck at these types of meetings. Because using computers still confuses them. CONFUSES AND BEWILDERS AND MAKES THEM ANXIOUS AND WHINY.

Ask me how the meeting went.

Go ahead ask.

GAWD I just wanted to start yelling! I mean, it's just a computer people. NOT A LIVE SNAKE SITTING ON YOUR DESK. Just suck it up. CHANGE IS PART OF LIFE. Adapt and move on please. The sooner you stop whining, the sooner the meeting is done. THEN WE CAN GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!!

I hang my head in shame here. These are my people, my coworkers. WE ARE NOT YOKELS!!! And I want to just start screaming. Especially when this question was asked:

"Can we be switched back to the old version? "

Tremor in the asker's voice. I swear, I almost saw tears. THIS WAS A DOCTOR PEOPLE. A DOCTOR WHO ASKED THIS.

"No.",

said the IT guy. Our health care system is nation wide. Everyone works within the same system.

Hey look, here's a photo of the IT guy!

Honestly people. So for the next two hours TWO HOURS FOR THE LOVE OF FRICKING GOD GIMME A GODDAMN BREAK!! we learned what I learned a year ago whilst getting my master's degree. The basics of windows 7. BASICS, like using microsoft word.

Then it happened.

While the IT guy was explaining the trillion functions of Outlook, he gets to the calendar function. He was using a big projection screen, so we could see exactly what he was doing. Here is a screen capture of the outlook calendar business.



It should be noted he talked like Gay Al, from South Park (note the picture above). Or, if you are an old bastard reading this, he was like Richard Simmons. When he got excited his voice went up. Had a lisp too. Which just added to the funny that was about to happen.

Cause he was a flaming gay IT guy. No lie, so flaming you could see him from space.

"NOW", he says Big Gay Al, "With windows 7, you can accessss other people's calendars. So if you want to see schedule a meeting with another persssson, just take that perssson's calendar and lay it on top of yours. (my snicker senses perk up) See like this, now her ssschedule is on top of yoursss, laying it right on top of you. You can see where the parts match up, sssee what parts fit together. (silent giggles begin)

In fact, you can accessss a few people and lay them right on top of you. (I look around-NOONE is getting the joke!-this makes it funnier because it's now its an inside joke) See like this, just put her on top, then him on top of her. Then, both of them would be on top of you! (I am dying-squirming in the chair!) Everyone piled together on top of each other, just see where things line up. You can have a whole bunch of people piled on top of you all at the same time."

That's when I lost it!

With my shoulders vibrating, fist clenched against my mouth, I calmly go to the rest room and let out the giggles. Visions of virtual orgies between the outlook calenders dancing in my head.

OH GAWD it was so effing funny!

It's funny because I am a 14 year old boy inside, amused by such things.

Almost made the entire meeting worth it. Almost!

(IRONIC UPDATE)

Mr. Hall read the post (he reads every post actually), and last night he was all like , "Um, babe, I'm pretty sure you don't have Microsoft 7, that's not out until next October. You most like likely have the 2007 version."

And I kind of argued because I was tired and really I have no idea what I was arguing about, but whatevs, it was 11.30 pm and I was cranky. And because if he reads the posts WHY CAN'T HE COMMENT HERE!! but, i digress.

Turns out, no I don't have Windows 7-but 2007. The windows 'operating system' is XP.

Mr. Hall says, "yes, this is the way I set up my clients workstations. ". Then he started talking all computery and I blushed because even though I don't understand what he is saying, he gets all excited about this and well, I heart Mr. Hall.

So yes, irony. I was wrong about what system we use here. Technology escapes me when it goes beyond what I need it for. So, i was wrong. Which is fine. I mean, I could come in and find a ham sandwhich on my desk, computer in the trash, and I WOULD STILL MAKE IT WORK!! Chart on patients, order labs, order medications, and do everything I do! Because really, its only a ham sandwhich NOT A LIVE SNAKE!!!

Fellow bloggers show up my dream, and I want to know why!!!

Ok look. I've written about my dreams that have been triggered by Earl and or his blog before. CLICK HERE

Then there was last night.

Earl, the man, was in my dream last night. Not content from his blog. Not the blinky man or the green man avatar, but Earl. In the flesh. Or, at least, what I thought Earl might look like. I've never met Earl and don't know his real name. He lives on the other side of the country from me. But it was unmistakable Earl.

The dream:

I was back in college, a few weeks from graduating. I lived in the dorms with Earl, we shared a room. I came home late at night, all giggly from a date with Mr. Hall. Mr. Hall being there, in the background, can only mean one thing. (I'll get to that later.)

But, I had come home late at night. I usually don't see Earl much, despite living in the same dorm room. We have a good arrangement as roommates. We were just friends people, get your mind out of the gutter!

I tell Earl I like living with guys better, in the dorm. This holds true in my real life. I like working with guys more than I like working with women because guys are more straight forward and easy to read. There is a directness to men that appeals to me.

This directness was demonstrated by Earl when he took his sweatshirt off. He did it the way guys take off sweatshirts. He raised his arms, grabbed the back of the sweatshirt and pulled it up and over his head while bending slightly forward. Classic guy maneuver.Also see, the guy nod during an official greeting. And muttering the words, 'Sup' while performing the head nod.

Women are more dainty (we slip our arms out- then carefully lift it over our head-we don't want to mess up our hair!!) We also tilt our head, smile and say "Hi, how are you" while greeting others. Our voice goes up too.

ANYWAY!!!

And yes, he was wearing a tshirt! Pervs!

So-yes, good living arrangement. And really, at this point, I am 3 weeks away from graduating. Earl and I laughing and discussing our future graduation plans. He talks about Gia, his girlfriend. I talk about Mr. Hall. BUT!!!!

At the same time- I appear to be texting or sending some photos of myself to another guy. They are regular photos-no nudie shots (goddamn some of you people are naughty monkeys!) But, photos like in the last post. I am sending them to a guy Earl knows. I can only assume this is Slyde.

SLYDE!!!

Because dammit now HE IS GETTING IN ON MY DREAM ACTION. And honestly, I really think it is Slyde because of the way Earl talks about him. In real life they have this long hetero-life mate thing going on.

BUT here's the thing. If Mr. Hall has a presence in any dream where I am making contact with other guys . . . Well that only means one thing.



This is where I am stopping now. And I tell you this. I am not sure why Earl or his blog content keeps showing up. I do not know him and honestly, I have no idea here. I think he is a symbol, an image I can project things onto.

He appears to be a decent guy, no ill intent towards others. I enjoy his blog too. He has been a blogger that has helped me figure out blogger things (embedding video, figuring out stats). He also provides balance in my blog reading. And balance here in a way. After all, other bloggers influence each other. Like other music artists influence each other. Thank you by the way Earl.

But, his blog doesn't trigger any deep thoughts (most of the time) or evoke any deep emotions (like some other blogs do). I mean, his blog is more relaxing than anything. Funny and witty. These are not things that should be triggering deep thoughts or influencing my dreams.

YET THERE HE IS FOR THE THIRD FRICKIN TIME!!!

so, YOU-you reader, follower, subscriber and/or lurker, YOU tell me!

Why does Earl keep showing up?

Why Slyde?

And what does the Mr. Hall's presence signify?

Ok GO!

Screw this, WE'RE OUTTA HERE!!! (Eric Cartman addition)

Since I can't say this-

Because our home is not sold nor bought ,

I'll tell you our other plans, as loud as I can!

Me and the tribe, we're going to . . . .

Tons of fun will be righteously had,
but-we're bringing the kids- so no . . .

Can anyone tell me what the hell the first thing is? I can't make it out.



I have an urge here, an urge to write out my feeeeellliinnngssss . . but ..


It's time to grab our suits and swim trunks,
our beach towels and goggles. Time to get nuts and . . .


Retarded.

Time to yell and run and jump up and down on the hotel beds.

Time to freak out until we pass out, exhausted and sunburnt, still vibrating with fun.



And we promise to be own our best behavior. . . and respect all

authoritah

And, as always, we'll keep our eye's peeled for GINGERS!!!

They burst into flames under direct sunlight ya know!

They're vampires I tells ya, VAMPIRES!!!

MMMWWHAAHHAA HAA HAAA!!!

HAVE A ROCKING WEEKEND YA'LL!!!