Last year I had a package of ravioli and no sauce, so I debated cooking the raviolies up and just eating them straight. Which didn't sound very good to me, so I went digging in my kitchen.


I came up with a can of chicken broth, and figured since I didn't have sauce (and it kills me to eat it anyway) I'd cook the ravi's in the broth and make a soup.


Thus, Jamie's version of Ravioli soup was born. Of course, I thought I'd found something new, but unfortunatly my ego was crushed to find other recipies of it online.


But, none of them were like mine at all!


So, I've remade my soup a few times, and everyone I've forced to eat it loves it. I figured, I'd share my soup with you. If you make it, tell me what you changed (if anything) and if you liked it.

My Ravioli Soup -



These measurements are from the top of my head. I made this up myself and I don't work from cups, I just use what I have or as much as I think I need. Feel free to wing it. This is my third version of this recipe, every time I make it I change it (for the better I hope) to accommodate what I've gotten or whatever whim I want to try.



This soup might not LOOK pretty, but it tastes good.




You need:


2 Qts Chicken Broth and two cups water


Or


As many cups of water you need & 1 chicken bullion cube (or tablespoon of powder) pur cup of water


Or


1 Qt chicken broth plus whatever extra water and bullion you need


Use MORE liquid then you think is needed, because the ravioli swell AND the liquid tends to run out after everyone's been eating the soup. So you're left with a half pot full of ravioli and stuff, which isn't bad, but isn't soup either.


1 lb - 2lbs (depending on how much you want) raw sausage of your choice (links! Not ground. You get less grease with links. I've used everything from kelbasa to Italian, it all works.)

2 lbs ravioli, I always use cheese and a second kind. Pick that suits your taste. I usually use whatever ravioli complements the meat I'm using and then cheese. IE: sausage ravioli..see, easy.


2 cups finely diced mushrooms


2 cups finely diced onion


2 cups finely diced celery


1 cup finely diced green pepper


1 cup finely diced baby corn (Opt.) (I like baby corn - you can also do olives (which sounds odd, but good at the same time), carrots and other veggies if you want. I have yet to try these in mine...but I will next time I make it.)


2 tablespoons finely diced garlic OR 2 tablespoons powdered garlic


1 teaspoon oregano, 1 teaspoon basil, 1/2 teaspoon sage and 1 teaspoon thyme (or two teaspoons Italian seasoning mix! It's cheating but it works!)

1 tablespoons pesto (yes, pesto too! yum!) Alot of the seasonings above are already in pesto, but it adds an interesting taste to the broth.


Salt & Pepper to taste


1 cup fresh shredded (shredded, not powder, or I'll hurt you) parmesan cheese



-----------


Cut up everything you need to cut up to smallish size pieces, including the sausage. Think tad smaller then bite size, bigger then speck. You want everything to be cooked nicely by the time the ravioli is done.



In a good sized pot, dump in your liquid (Make sure you leave room for the ravioli and use a pot big enough to accommodate the ravioli swelling! I mean it, or you'll be sorry!) and turn your stove on low. Throw in all your seasonings including the pesto (it'll give it time to melt and mix with the broth). Let it get to about the simmering point, and give it some good stirs.



Throw in the diced veggies and the garlic, let that simmer for about five minutes. You don't have to pre-cook any of the veggies, so don't worry about it. They'll all cook fine in the pot.



Toss your ravioli in (well, place it in gently, you don't want disgruntled ravioli) and then about 1/2 cup of your cheese. Turn it up on med. high, stir in very well and then throw a lid on it. Let it cook until the ravioli is tender, make sure you stir it every few minutes or so.



Once the ravioli is cooked, turn off the heat (or turn it on low (low low low)) and dish up some bowls as soon as you can. Throw a little handful of the remaining cheese on top of each. (It makes a fun sticky gooey mess! I love it!)



The rest of the soup will sit in the pot, and the ravioli will get a little mushy. It's ok though, the soup will still taste good. If you don't want this to happen, make sure you force feed the soup to everyone as soon as the ravioli is done.



This keeps well for a couple days in the fridge, and tastes fine with microwave reheats. It also freezes something awesome, just incase you want to give it away. (I've made poor souls try it, and so far everyone likes it! They call it my 'ugly' soup.)



I serve it with french bread and spinach dip, because that's the kind of freak I am.

I got a phone call last week from my moms church asking if I'd come back and do their younger kid group thing for them on Sundays because they're starting to get more widdle widdle umpkins again.


I said sure, 'cause I'm nice like that.


No more free Sundays for me! So, I'm getting ready to flee out the door again. (The story of my life.) I don't mind doing this for them, it's not like I do anything else Sunday mornings. It also gives me a load more kid faces to practice my face painting on. Woo. I'm thinking of taking a camera so I can grab shots for a face book I need. (I've got to get it done before the Ag Fest in April, where I will be running a face painting booth.)


I do have a question though, why are services held so damn early? (Even thought technicly H.O.M.E's services aren't until 11) 8 is an ungodly hour to get up to get ready for anything on a Sunday, you'd think God would deem it blasphemy and put a stop to it.


You're slackin' God, I'm terribly disapointed.

I'm getting ready to flee out the door to take my Great Aunt away so she can putt around some tropical islands in a boat for the next two weeks.


Tough life hu?


When I get back tonight I have to start taking pictures of the Avon crap so I can sell it on Ebay. These pictures of the items have to include a picture of each one in and out of it's box. I have a good dozen cases of Avon stuff, which comes out to about 300 seperate items. Which is about 600 pictures. Which comes out to about 1/4th of the rest of my natural life taking pictures of Avon crap. Did I mention all of these are filled with nose wrinkling, eye watering horse urine? And I don't have a Hazmat mask?


I am so looking forward to it.

Oh, and for those of you who wanted to know why there are no pictures of me, it's because I manned the camera. However, since you whined so well...here you go.

I have started to take the borrowed digital camera everywhere I go. I find I enjoy very much taking pictures of unsuspecting people in strange situations. May I present to you the first of a long series of photblog entries that will either amuse you or bore you to tears, depending on my mood. These entries will continue until the owner of the camera realizes I'm abusing the privalge and takes it away from me while slapping me with the carry case upside my head. Do pray it be a long while off, becase I'm having quite alot fun. Oh, it's long too...I apologize.

Yesterday, after I had been pestered and pestered by our preschool kids, I gave in and set about 'Painting' them. During this ritual which involves alot of me repeating the same phrase (You've got to sit still) over and over, I had an idea. We had been talking about a field trip for the last couple of days, and since we only had a couple of kids (two, in fact), I figured why not do it today?


So, after I had finished painting them up I suggested my suggestion to the all powerful Boss-Lady. (She's only the Boss-Lady on odd days, so she of course played the part in full.)


So once we were all in agreement, and the kiddies were strapped into the car, Robin, Elaine and I drove our little bra..umpkins..to Martha's Pumpkin Patch.


Martha's is a localy owned farm that sells seasonal produce and what not throught the year. During Christmas time you can get trees, and during Halloween you can get pumpkins. Lots and Lots of pretty round orange pumpkies. I love pumpkins, at least for the first week or so, until they turn white and squishy and you have to scrape them up with a shovel and throw them away. But, before that, I love pumpkins.


So, we pulled into Martha's, got the excited kiddies out of the car, and thanks to a suggestion from Martha herself (Should I have asked for an autograph?) we piled the bouncing girls into a wagon and prepared to treck out into the pumpkin feilds. That's right, no pre-picked carton sitting pumpkins for us, we were going to capture ourselves pumpkins in their native habitat. Once we were settled with our caravan, we were on our way.



At first our party was cautious, as our trail leader Robin scouted ahead, Elaine faithfully followed. We were confident that we would not be attacked by savages in this wild land, although we allowed ourselves one look back to civilization.


As we continued into the vast wilderness of pumpkins, we came upon a few that we thought might be decent enough sorts to carry back home with us. As Robin made herself more familiar with the natives, she decided that they no longer wished to be left upon their sides and tops, so she took it upon herself to upright every pumpkin she came across so that they were sitting on their bottoms. The pumpkins she helped were most pleased, seeing as how they have no arms or feet to right themselves alone.


While Robin played nursemaid to the pumpkins, our travilers in the wagon ventured further into this uncharted land. At last the glad cry was sounded, a pumpkin decent enough for our travilers was found! The gladness of this event was lost quickly however, when we realized we were approching a dense and somewhat unsettling Pumpkin Patch Corn Forest. The outside of the forest was marked with strange signs, that we feared were strewn with warnings of this place. What were those other more colorful items? Perhaps some odd torture device? A Pumpkin Stock forged to hold the heads of tresspassers? Carefully we grew closer.


As we stopped just a few yards away from the strage stock-like device, one of our bravest travilers lept from her seat in the coach and sped toward the device, hedless to our cries of warning! Just then our caravan was attacked by a hoard of savage pumpkins, taking our youngest traviler Mackinzie hostage!


What could we do? I ran to find Robin were we had last seen her, but she was nowhere to be found, and when I returned I saw why. Somehow during her travels to help the pumpkins, she was captured as well. Now all my companions were caught, and had been locked into the strange torture device and guarded by pumpkin soilders. What was I to do?


Thinking quickly I grabbed the nearest pumpkin guard by suprise and threw him to the ground, each pumpkin guard I managed to thwart after a long and hard battle. I am ashamed to say many a pumpkins died that day, but it was for my friends life that I comitted pumpkinside, and as I freed them, they survayed my handywork.


After a long talk, we decided we couldn't risk going back the way we came, so we fled the only way that was left. Into the forest. The forest was dark and smelled faintly of mud, as we marched down the path we fought our way through the sharp and stinging branches of the tree-husks, and eventually found outselves in a clearing. We stood dumbfounded as we faced a most unusual person, there before us stood the Witch of the East in all the Witches glory! Tentivly we approched the witch for help, hoping this move was wise.


The Witch told us that to escape the forest, we must visit each witch and as their permission. Brushing us off with a disinterested hand, the witch bid us to carry on, for we were spoiling it's relaxing footbath. With that, we left the East Witch behind, and continued on our way. Soon, we came upon the South Witch, and while she dried her hair we asked her permission to leave the forest.


Sure, she said, no problem.


Well, so far so good. As we continued we eventually came across the West Witch. She was terrifying! She divebombed us on her broom while trying to kick us with her shoes and cackled all the while! We fled as fast as we could and ended up smack in the lair of the Witch of the North.


Despite our initial fear, we found Ms. North to be quite a lovely hostess. After offering us tea, she kindly showed us the way out of the forest, and told us that we had her permission to pick any pumpkin we wish on our journey back to Martha's. She even posed for a picture with our troupe.


We bid Ms. North farewell and continued on our journey. The day was growing quite late and we found that it was time to pick our final pumpkins and make our way home.


At last we had what we came for! With our travilers and our pumpkins safely stowed in our coach, we returned to Martha's.


Returned to the real world, paid for the pumpkins, stuck them in thecar, and headed home.


We also went to the store and carved the pumpkins, but I'll save that story for later.

I have this tree in front of my house. It's huge, and has probably been there for a good 40 years or more. It's covered in pretty ivy and some flowering plant that smells pretty nice. In the spring it's home to iddle bitty cute pudgy birds that eat the bugs that live in it's branches and fluffy chipmunks that scurry up and down it's trunk. It's leafy boughs shade my little house and keep it cool all summer long. In summer it is a blessing.


It's fall that's the problem.


You see, when fall in Oregon hits and all the leaves turn crispy and orange, an evil lurks in my pretty tree. An evil that litters my yard and driveway, that bangs all night long, that causes great black stains to appear on my porch and my living room rug. An evil that startles my cats when their napping and dents and dings parked and passing cars. It's an evil my friends, that will leave a knot the size of golf ball on your head or shoulders. This evil causes me to run from the corner of my street to my front porch on windy days in fear.


This evil, is The Walnuts.


Great nasty greenish grey husk-covered Walnuts. They fall from way up high in the tree and zoom down on their targets with a walnutty fury. They bang, splat, thump and bounce of every single surface within twenty yards of the tree. They're smelly, slimy and extremely annoying when six or seven fall off at once in the middle of the night.


And their leathal.


Today Elaine became the first victim of the season. Minding her own busniess while walking under the tree to deliver the mail to my Grandmother she was startled by a burst of wind that signaled the arrival of The Foe. While attempting to flee to safety she was struck viciously in the head by a Walnut. She survived the ordeal with a slight bump on the head and a few harsh words about The Walnuts.


"They're Evil" She said.


I agree. Unfortunatly there is nothing I can do to combat this foe. Perhaps I will walk my life with an oversized umbrella in hand, or raid a nearby construction site in the attempt to steal a hardhat. But, in the meantime, as I search to find one who is so brave as to risk going under my tree (Or one who would steal two hardhats, and give one to me) to rake the mess that is piling up in my yard and drivway, I realize that fall and winter will be long in my house, while The Walnuts dive until all that is left on the tree bare branches is the ivy and the few leaves which refuse to fall. And each day those who must wander under my tree take the risk of being horribly maimed or meet their death by one of those mischievous green flying orbs. It would be an interesting way to go.

Happy Birthday to James! Happy Birthday to James! Happy Birthday to Jaaaaaaaaames! Happy Birthday to James!


James! Have a good one, you deserve it.

Someone should have told me my layout looks like total crap.



Guess I'll spend today redoing it. You've got to remember I create my layouts for how they look on MY computer, which was very good, thank you. However, after looking at it on someone elses, it turned out to be like those people I wonder how they ever get designing jobs.



%$&#$.


So, more then likely you're NOT seeing it the way I intended it to be seen.


Yes, exactly what is on my nano page..I'm lazy. So there!

My Nano Page


Go give it a visit and please tell me what you think. Not everything is there by a long shot, but it should all be done by tomorrow evening. Yip! I can't wait to get going.

I love fall. Especally when all the apples are ready to make stuff like applesauce and pies. Everything smells like apples and cinnamon now, and tomorrow I'm going to work on the pies. Woo!

Wohoo! Well, I'm signed up for NaNoWriMo. (Where you write a 50k novel in 30 days, starting in November..but sign ups are open now) I'm going to try this thing again this year. Last year I didn't finish but I did try, so don't be too ashamed of me.


So far my partners in self-torture are Kelly and Fred. I've got a couple more people teetering on the edge, and Prana is one of them who hasn't succombed to the dark side, but I think she might..and our little group (The Cardboard Box Wrimos) is open for more friends in misery so if you sign up (and I think you should) let me know and I'll add you to our mailing list.


C'mon..what's it going to hurt?

I'm moving Kiddlets.com to a new server because it's turning back into a preschool site. (It was my design site..now my design site is moving to Brighterskyte.com, which is about time).



Anyhow...if some of the images and things are broken here for the next 24 to 48 hours it's because I'm moving stuff around. Just forgive me, and keep your fingers crossed. ;)

Well...hrm, someone found my site by searching for 'I want to poke your eyes out and make love'.



No, no you don't. Not really.

I have ravioli with good spagetti sauce today. I'm currently fighting a wonderful burning bout of heartburn. (It's almost like swimin' with the Devil maw!) But...it's worth it, because it's nummy. What makes good spagetti sauce according to me? (I know you don't care, but lord all mighty, you keep coming back and reading this, so you should know by now what you're going to get.)


Good spagetti sauce is when you can still identify 99.9% of all the components, but don't feel like you're crunching into a almost-done bug with every bite. Where you get big nice chunks of stuff like garlic and olives and green pepper and mushrooms and and and...


Good spagetti sauce hasn't been purreed into a sludge that looks like a mix of tomato boogers and rejected Red Cross blood.


Good spagetti sauce makes me say: "Wow." (Great big long pause) "This Spagetti Sauce Is Good."


I'm not Italian, (In fact, I'm Native American, German and Irish...nowhere near Italian) so I'm sure nobody's going to take my word for it, but you don't have to be Italian to bean someone over the head with a bat. (No offense to any Italian, except for those of you who know that comment was for you, then take as much offense as you wish.) So, I don't think you have to be Italian to know what good `getti sauce is either.


Thank you for joining me for this extremely nonsense post, I hope you enjoyed it almost as much as the point of posting it baffled you. Come again soon. That is all.

100 Things About Me #85: I've been shot at.


When I was younger and my mom was still married to The Psycho, we spent alot of time being shuffled around from one place to live to another. Mostly because it was one way that he (The Psycho, that's really mean..I should quit calling him that) could keep control, by telling us where we could or couldn't live.

One of the places we used to live was a little rinky-dink town in Eastern Oregon called Stanfield, in fact, if you were to visit that lovely peice of smoking donkey poo town today, you could drive past the house I used to live in next to the city park. According to my grapevine sources, the house is still owned by T.P., or possibly T.P's parents. (Sold to them on a whim to get them to pay his overdue child support, no doubt.)


Please note that I call him 'The Psycho' not because I harbor undelt with anger towards the man - oh no - I call him that because he is. And I have the manifestos to prove it.


Anyway, it was summer during one of our 'move backs' to Stanfield, and I was like 10 and out in the park nextdoor to our house (Right next door too, our property lines met.) playing baseball with a bunch of my friends. It was actually a really fun summer, a good summer because T.P. was gone somwhere. Mushroom picking? Fishing? I don't remember, but I remember for a good bout of almost six weeks he wasn't there, and I reveled in it. When he was gone, it ment I could be a real kid, and not just someones slave or someone trying to hide out in my room to avoid having to deal with him.


But that summer, yeah..I remember, there was a whole gang of us, anywhere from five to nine of us at any time. I usally ended up being the only girl though, which was frustrating most of the time, but I didn't mind hanging out with 'the guys'. (I always end up with more guy friends then girls..what is that?) We split our time up between bad monster movies, swimming in the river, and attempting to convince each other that we were each the best damn hitters that ever lived in this dumpy town. I, was not a hitter, in fact I'm ashamed to say I was one of those kids who flinched every time a pitch was thrown. I had good reason however, I was always getting smacked with the ball. So, in a vain attempt to thwart bruises, I learned to live my life as a fielder. A very very very far outfielder fielder, as far away from the ball as I could get. It didn't work, but it was good logic on my part. I guess.


It was a really sunny day, and there were about six or seven of us and we were standing in a group arguing over something. Who was out, who wasn't, I don't remember exactly. (I'm sure whatever it was it held the fate of our game in the balance. You know how kids are.) And the park was always full of other people, usally people playing basketball or picknicking under this huge oak next to the swings, so there was always cars going by and people yelling to each other and what not. I don't ever remember feeling unsafe or uncomfortable, I (and everyone else) had lived in that town off and on for so long that I don't think any of us were really worried about anything bad happening to us. Kids don't worry about that stuff most of the time anyway, what they're doing today is more important that what could happen.


So, anyway, with all the people and cars we didn't pay attention to the blue pick-up that was going around and around the park, in fact, we didn't notice it at all. It was someone else not even involved with us who had. Standing there listening to the guys argue back and forth about stupid bases, I was getting pretty bored, and I remember looking up just in time to hear a loud 'pop' and watch someone in this pick-up that was driving by pull something in his passinger side window and speed away.


Scared the shit out of us, let me tell you.


I remember my mom, and Stephen's (Who was pitching I think) mom who lived across the street running out and asking if that was backfire. It sounded too loud to be backfire.


Whoah, I'm thinking....he shot at us!


So, some of the others piped up...they had seen the guy pull a gun in his window too. The cops were called...I don't remember talking to them, but I might have. I remember someone saying they felt something go past their face, I don't remember who that was either.


Nobody was hurt, and I don't know if they ever found the guys who did it, or if they ever had any more problems like that in the park. I do remember that it was a while before my mom would let us go galavanting around town again that summer. I don't think it dramaticly changed my views on the world, or on childhood, or on summer. It didn't traumatize me to the point I couldn't function like a normal kid. I remember lots more of that summer, and it all included alot of laughing. It just turned into one more story I've got in my big bag of stories.


I do remember being oddly mystified in that one instant though. Hell, we were just playing baseball, what would anyone shoot at us for?

I have to talk to someone about something they're doing and I really hate it when I have to do this. Why can't people just behave rationally and then I wouldn't have to bring up stuff they think I don't notice and be the bad guy.


I don't make a good bad guy! I can't ride a horse and I think spitting is icky.

I signed up for the Ornament Exchange at Miz Jenna's. I wanted to do it last year but found out about it too late...so I'm doing it this year.



You should all go over and sign up too, it should be fun.

Today I was supposed to go to some PDR/Whatever they're calling it now class, (Classes that add to my 'professional development registry' that in some obscure way I can trade in for college credits later, if I believe them that is.) I didn't go because I wasn't sure if I'd make it through the day without dying or throwing up on someones shoe. This is the second class this week I've missed because I feel like crud. The last one I ended up going, but sleeping in the car because I was misrable and couldn't see straight to do anything, let alone sit through a class.



Lucky me!



That's 7 hours I've missed out on...7 hours I really did need that I could have gotten in those two classes, and now I'm going to have to make them up by doing 5 other classes. Dang me and my tummy anyway.



So insted, I'm sitting here working on Hot Lake which I've finally gotten to actually go to the place it's actually supposed to go to. It only took me rebuying the domain so I could access it so it would point to the host. At least now the old host it was with can't hold it hostage anymore. Now I just need to get hotlake.net to do the same thing...I hope I don't have to wait till that one is up again to get it.

Look! Incoherent Babblings and it isn't even me!


I'm not delusional enough to think I'm the only person using those two words, but it's weird to actually see it.

AND that site linked to TPC! Pretty nifty.

100 Things About Me #16: I'm a closet Jones Soda Junkie.


have been since way back when, before people thought they were good just because their bottles were seen on Teeny Bopper TV shows. Jones Soda is nummy.



Not only are they great because (obviously) they make wonderful sodas in interesting flavors,(Like 'Green Apple' which I've got in my hot little hand right now, 'Blue Bubble Gum' and 'Fun/Happy' and their Jones Naturals are sooo yummy.), but they're local (Woo hoo Northwest!), reasonably priced, and they promote good stuff, like recycling and education for girls in countries where girls are normally viewed as less then.



Plus, their packaging is just plain cool. (They also have a 'My Jones' program, which lets you personalize bottles for an occasion. Very fun. No, that ah..wasn't a hint...) So if you've never tried them, I suggest you do, then you can be a closet junkie like me!

I didn't fall asleep until 6 this morning because I wasn't feeling well, so I overslept. Guess who came while I was at home sleeping? Our friendly neighborhood state!


Why, you ask? Because a lady we fired for having head lice over and over (among other things) called and said that there was head lice at this Childcare.


Yeah, there was! You had it lady!


Ugh.


I'm just gritting my teeth and waiting....this Preschool better work out, or I'm just going to go start working for McDonalds, because anything is better then this.

Robert delivered the goods today.

They're all piled up nice and neat in big brown boxes just begging to be pawed through right now in my hallow-sounding guestroom. (Sans bed, since that was stolen from me earlier in the week by it's former owner who decided that, almost a year later, he wanted it back. I, was just nice enough to give it to him. Well, the matress anyway, he didn't take the frame. It's resting in my garage, where empty futon frames seem more at home then in half decorated guestrooms that are slowly losing furniture.) Just resting there like little treasure boxes, filled with all sorts of goodies for me to beam and cringe over. The magic of cardboard boxes! Big, small, tall, squashed, it dosen't matter what size, what's in them, (or if you already know what's in them because they belong to you), they always have some sort of deranged draw that makes your hands itch to open them up until, with a scary cry of glee, you give in. Boxes! Oh Boxes! How I love thee! I don't even care if you send me all the junk mail of every home in the Northwest, if it's in a box. There is just something about getting that taped-to-hell package with the little dirt smear and your name on it that makes everything peachy. It's a sickness, I think.


You know, I wouldn't last a day as a mail carrier.


So...the goods. 12 lovely boxes, big boxes, nice, big, square boxes, all sitting in my guestroom. And I don't even know what's in them! Well, I know what's in them, but I don't know whats in them. See, Robert brought me all his mothers old Avon stuff (12 boxes full) because he wants to take a stab at selling them on E-bay. So right now they're sitting all nice and cozy in my house to keep wayward hands (HA!) from digging/breaking/ect. them. (I don't plan on the braking or the ect part...and I'll dig carefully!) All of the Avon stuff is from the 60's and 70's and 99.9% of it is in it's packaging still. 98.9% of it is purfume bottles...and unfortunatly (fortunatly for collectors I guess...unfortunatly for me) they also still have all the purfume in them.


My guestroom (And, the back of Robert's truck!) smells like a dead French whore.


I, however, think that -and the wonderful stabbing headache I got from just being around the unopened boxes - is a small price to pay to be able to look at goodies. For now, anyway....ask me later, after I've gone through everything and I faint and have nightmares of dying a horrible slow death at the purfume counter of Pennies.

I spent the majority of the day in a ECD/PDR class (that was boring as a trip to the glue factory) to better myself for my job and guess what I come home to? An artical in the lovely Parents 'premote fear' magazine about how Preschool (childcare providers) teachers are unqualified and abusive. This is the third such artical I've seen in there this year saying that (In the overall theme of the articals) childcare providers and preschool teachers are abusive and deplorable, and promoting fear and distrust in parents.
.

.

.

.

.

You know, the crap, slander, and abuse we all take for this job dosen't make it worth it. If it wasn't for the fact that I honestly like working with children enough to try opening a straight preschool, I would have run for the hills a long time ago and never looked back.


I agree that some in this profession - like all professions everywhere - aren't good for the job. But when is the media going to stop pushing fear and distrust and start telling the whole story? They've never once published a good artical about childcare or preschool. Ever. All articals might have a tad good, but it's weight out by how abusive, terrible, and unqualified we are. I'm actually half thinking about writing and telling them how disapointed and tired I am of the media, the parents and the goverment putting me and my profession down.


But, since I'm just a childcare provider/preschool teacher I bet they won't listen to me. After all, a child abuser wouldn't tell the truth.

100 Things About Me: #33 I do face painting.

I've decided to throw these out randomly, that way, I have something to post for 100 days!


I picked up a box of face paints about two years ago, and have been doing it anywhere from every day to six times a month at the least since. I like it, and I'm actually kind of good at it. People seem to like it too (It's the little things I guess), it's even gotten to the point that my siblings friends come over and ask me to 'Paint them'. In fact, there is a plot going around to get me to paint faces on picture day...unfortunatly for them, I'm not going to. (I think parents would be angry. I think it would be kewl...but when you weigh the two against each other, screaming angry parents win out.)


Someday I'll get a decent digital camera and show off some of my face painting. I'm not great, and I'm still learning, but I love to practice on anybody who will sit still. (Or anyone who will let me hit them with my brushes to get them to sit still.)


If you've ever wanted to try it (I say do it, just get yourself some paints and start stalking victims!) I will happily share Jamie's Tips For Attempting Decent Face Painting with you. Ready? Good.


1. Don't Worry. Seriously. Don't worry that you won't be good enough, that you don't have any talent, that you just got paint in somebodies hair. (Well, try and avoid that one...even if it does wash out.) Just relax and have fun. Don't worry if you mess up either, it's just paint.


2. Esperament (That's 'experiment' in kiddie speak) If you get an idea, run with it. Don't be afraid to use body glitter, sticky rhinestones, stuff to make textures...anything goes. You don't have to do it on the face either, arms, hands, legs, feet, neck, back...um..other places that are rated appropriate for the crowd you're doing works good too. Oh yeah, we were speaking of other things to use before? That takes us to tip #3.


3. Thrifty isn't a bad thing Face Painting supplies can get expensive, especally for the little bits and peices you'll end up using alot. There are a great many face paint companies that will shoot me for this tip, but it's true. Alot of them offer rhinestones and loose glitter for face painters, but unfortunatly some of them charge over the limit amounts for something that's exactly the same as the other on the market. These rhinestones and glitter are the same rhinestones and glitter avalible in places like Clares and Wal-Mart that are for sold for body decorations and they are avalible at half the cost. So insted of buying through a face paint place, get your body glitter at Clares, or order your rhinestones in bulk from U.S. Toy company, who sells them in packages of 144 for 5 bucks. U.S. Toy Co also sells those neat body rhinestone tattoos in bulk. Great for adding an extra something to a design.


4. Use Decent Paint. You don't have to get the most expensive, but make sure you get FDA approved paint that is of some good quality. Bad paint is just plain bad. It cracks, chips, runs, and can irritate skin. Plus, your work will look better with a paint that isn't yucky.


5. Use Tons of Brushes & Sponges. Brushes are good, sponges are good too. Try and swing it so you have one brush for every pot of paint. I know it turns into a whole bunch of brushes, but the extra washing at the end of the day is MUCH better then painting with poo water...which brings us to 6.


6. DON'T USE POO WATER! Poo water, as it's so nicely named by someone I know, is when your water turns that lovely brown color from your brush and paints. Using a brush for each color (or color range) will stop this because you won't have to rinse your brush out, ever. Just dip your brush in a tiny bit to get water you need, and you'll stop the poo problem. Becides looking bad, (and making you look bad!) poo water will also change the colors of the paint on your brush and in the pot, causing you a lovely time of wiping off the top of your paints to get rid of that brownish stain from the water. Bad, don't do it!


7. Surf The Net. There are a huge amount of face painting websites out there. (who knew?) All of them usally offer photo albumbs of painting they've done. Trust me, if you surf these you'll get all sorts of great ideas (and hints, tips and walkthroughs) and you won't have to buy a book or video. Not, that books and videos are bad.


8. Practice on anybody you can get your hands on. Over, and over and over until they hate you, face painting and everything associated with it. You'll lose some friends, but will be a better painter for it. You can also print off (from some websites) drawn faces of kids to practice on...it's not the same, but it'll help you get certain strokes down.


9. If you charge, charge what you're worth. I don't charge because I don't do it at shows or anything (I've thought about it, but haven't) If you DO charge, set your OWN limit before hand and don't make anyone tell you different. Charge what you're worth, because it's your time and your talent and because you're worth it, damnit. Don't make me beat you.


10. Make a kit. Keep all your face painting stuff in a kit. You can use a good sized tackle box, they work well. It helps keep all your junk in one spot, and it makes it easier for you to work. Some stuff to keep in it? Wet naps, extra brushes and sponges (Again, bulk makeup brushes work just as good as any!), paint (of course), glitter, rhinestones, texture stuff (rice, beans, sand), a mirror, business cards (if you do that sort of face painting), and whatever else you feel the need to huff around with you.


11. Clip the kids. If you decide to make a face painting kit (I've got one...sorta!) then keep some good hairclips in there, so you can clip hair away from the faces of the bra..kids...you're working on. Nothing makes you more frustrated then a good face ruined by hair!


12. Be polite but firm if you charge, or even if you don't, make sure you're polite to people you're painting, but don't let them walk on you! Make sure they know they have to sit still (and if they don't, don't paint them), make them stand in line if you need (And make sure you let people know when you're going to be done, and don't waiver from it...when you're done, be done!), and make sure that both you and the person you're painting are clear with knowing what is wanted...and if they change their mind, just hit them a few times, they'll change it back.


12. Ask If you need help, ask...me, someone else who does it, someone on the net. I don't know about anyone else, but I'm pretty sure I don't bite.


There, those are my tips (so far) that I have to offer. So, if you're in a craft store and see a box of face paint, pick it up, cause it's kind of fun, and you never know...you might like it. (gasp..lol...I'm such a geek..)

13 million American children (Over 28 million Americans total) go hungry every year in the United States because their families can't afford food.


Show that you really care about your countrymen. Show that you're a real patriot, and do something about it.


Because it's hard be a great country, when the people in our country are going hungry.

Keep your fingers crossed ok? We've been given the go ahead to rent an entire self-sustaining building and convert it into a preschool. (The building includes parking AND a huge lot of land) Now, between starting our normal preschool program here, not feeling very well, all the everything online I do, I'm also in the stages of setting up proposals and working on getting this moving, and it is a huge move.


This is awesome just the same, for many reasons....read on:



Reasons Why Jamie Wants To Open A Preschool Somewhere Else:

1: It will be somewhere else, and it's a self contained building, including an upstairs, two bathrooms and a kitchen.

2. We won't be doing any more childcare, just 31/2 hour preschool classes (Two classes every day, 2 - 3 year olds 2 days a week and 3 - 4 year olds 3 days a week).

3. No more childcare.

4. No more childcare! It means no more diapers, no more BS from parents, no more showing up when they shouldn't...none.

5. No more state. Preschools aren't concitered childcare, therefore aren't regulated by a single state agency that's harassed us in the last five years.

6. It has the potental to bring in a huge sum of money. (Money is good) More then we're making now, because people think 'preschool' deserves more money then 'childcare' does. Which is stupid, but true.

7. I get to fingerpaint even more.

8. It's right next door to my college.



Yes, this could make me very very happy. Right now we have a tentitive schedualed reopening date of January 5th. That leaves a major amount of work to do between then and now. I think it'll be worth it though. The first thing we have to do? Think of a name...any suggestions?

Either the poor person chained to the wall in the basement of Jane Magazine who licks the address lables and keeps the subscribers in order has messed up, or someone hates me (or thinks I need it) and keeps resubscribing me and paying for it, but I keep getting Jane magazine.


I've been getting it for over a year now.


Perhaps I sleepwalked and I subscribed myself, but I doubt it. Regardless, I now have this magazine coming to my house once a month. Goodie for me.


Now, I'm not saying it's bad (awful, trash, drivvle) because I'm sure someone out there likes it. Every once in a while I like something in it too, but it is deffinatly not something I'd pay (a dime! cough) for. I don't care who the biggest hollywood sex fiend is, or tips to make my hair more sexy, or what the worst insult someone heard about makeup ever was.

Between the downtown department store purfume counter like smell that permeates the air the momment you open the bag (it comes in a bag, why you ask? To keep all the advertisments in, because you know you'll weep if the latest advert for 'Chanel' or 'Glamour' falls out on to the street and gets footie prints on it's holy surface.) thanks to the 30 some odd samples stuffed inside like an overdone thanksgiving turkey, and the aforementioned in the ()'s advertisments for everything from sanitary napkins to 'J-Lo's scent', I feel like I'm stuck in some scary Tommy-Girl billboard riddled world and can't get out.


Yes, I admit, every once in a while something slightly amusing is inside, but deep down I just can't bring myself to justify that it makes it worth the money.


Oh well, at least I have extra litter box liner now.

I haven't updated much lately, I probably should be stuck in a potato sack and beat with a large stick, but I'm hoping you'll forgive me and just let it go this time.



I just don't really have anything interesting to write about. There are alot of things going on, but none of them I really feel like sharing or going in to at the least. It's almost September (which is terrifying, by the way) and next week everybody goes back to school - including me. Well, I'm teaching anyway.


On the 4th we're starting back up our Preschool program (Since, you know, it's that time again), and I'm going to be extremely busy from now till then getting everything set up for it, so I probably won't be updating much until after the 8th sometime when I finally am back into the swing o' things. I've got a good two page list of stuff I have to have finished before Wednesday, most of it is prep work, (I hate prep work! I want to hire someone to do all the dumb pre-cutting cutting for me. Anyone interested? I'll give you a free pair of child safety scissors!) which I guess isn't...ok, it is. It's bad, very bad. Prep work stinks. I also have filing, letter writing, and lesson planning stuff to do.


September's theme? It includes friendship, the numbers 1 & 2, and the color red. Yay..now I can finally review those pesky 1's and 2's that I always have trouble with. It also includes a school bus puppet that will be used to 'talk to the kids about important issues and interact with them using songs, stories and bus sounds'.


Joy.

By the way, to the person who voodoo'ed me. I will find you, and when I do, you will be sorry.


Very. Very. Sorry.

I want a new layout. Any suggestions? I've done six and threw them all in the recycle bin because I'm not happy with them. Argh! Argh I say!

We started three new kids today, and before they were even here more then three hours they had already pooped on the floor and one had taken off her pooey diaper and put it in a toybox.



Oh yes, I so love this job.

It's raining!


Just wanted to share. It's the little things, you know?

Rhea Rhyolin: I'm doing ok...we have a USDA worker coming over today (hence the away message) she really does come and watch the kids eat, and then leaves...it's really creepy
angrypsychokel: yeeep.. what're they looking for?
Rhea Rhyolin: They just want to make sure that providers whom they're compinsating for meals feed kids 'proper balanced meals' and not things like paste and thumbtacks
Rhea Rhyolin: Which I've only done ONCE!
Rhea Rhyolin: lol
angrypsychokel: Aaaaah
angrypsychokel: *lol* I was just about to ask you about that!


Geesh, you feed a kid Elmers once and nobody forgets about it....;)

Rhea Rhyolin: How's stuff with you?
kusanagi51: nothing too new to speak of
kusanagi51: wait, I remember something
kusanagi51: have you ever been hit by a glob of hot tar?
Rhea Rhyolin: Nope
Rhea Rhyolin: Can't say I have
kusanagi51: well keep it that way
kusanagi51: it feels like a cross between a sunburn and a bee sting
Rhea Rhyolin: :-( How'd you end up getting hit by hot tar?
kusanagi51: well some guys were redoing the roof of my garage, and I needed a shirt out of there (and thus bare skinned) and then a glob fell through the cracks on the top and hit me on my left shoulder
Rhea Rhyolin: Ouch, I'm sorry
Rhea Rhyolin: :-( You ok?
kusanagi51: yeah, I'm ok- cool thing is I may get a rad scar!
kusanagi51: actually at the moment the burn is blood-red
Rhea Rhyolin: Ouch
Rhea Rhyolin: When'd it happen?
kusanagi51: on Friday
kusanagi51: just as I was getting ready to go to work
kusanagi51: so I went to work with a flesh wound
kusanagi51: yay
Rhea Rhyolin: Well, I guess the rad scar'll make up for it all then hu?



Would it be too terribly awful of me to say I'm glad I'm not a guy? Really, because I am. No offense to the guys out there, I just don't get that whole macho He-Man look maw I've got a flesh wound sort of thing and it's going to scar. It's kind of like being willing to have someone poke your eye with a big gnarly pointy stick just so you can wear a pirate patch and say "Argh!" alot.


I'm back, by the way. Did you miss me? I didn't think so.


My trip to Memphis was edumacational. I had fun (Sans the funeral, which if I had had (snicker) fun at, I'm sure I would have been frowned at. I hate being frowned at, nothing makes me feel more like a naughty six year old then frownage. Becides, it would have been disrespectful! (so there!) Urhm..), I did some of the tourist stuff...went to Graceland (I already went into that at TPC, so if you want to know, go there and read it. I can't type it all again...).



I didn't get to do some of the stuff I wanted, but hey...there is always next time. But if I go back, I'll go in the winter, when it's not so dang humid.


TPC, if I didn't mention this already, won two of the Blogathon awards. Can you believe it? (Neither could I...color me shocked.) We won 'Most Enthusiastic' and 'Best Webcam'. I'm actually so incredably flattered that people voted for us, have I mentioned I love you all lately? I can't believe it still...I was floored when Pran called me up and told me, I'm pretty sure I was even a tad girly and jumped up and down once or twice...but don't tell anyone...Ok?

I'm going to be gone for a while. One of my best friends, Ally's, mom died last night and I'm flying over to Memphis to see if I can be of some help.

I leave Tuesday morning at 12:50 am (Which means I have to leave for the airport tomorrow at 9, I'm catching the shuttle from the Salem airport and going up to Portland.) and will be back sometime Sunday. If you leave your address before I go, I'll send you a postcard.

But, for now, I have to go and rush around and get everything done before I leave for the airport tomorrow. I actually haven't flown on a commertial flight since I was like 3. I'm more worried about looking like an idiot while aimlessly running up and down the halls looking for my gate (Should I cry and scream for my mommy?) then the actually flying part.

So, anyway, hope that I don't crash and burn someplace.Or do, if you want to get rid of me.

I'm suing people. That's right. Two people:



Kelly, for picking her nose in public. And


Persa, for eating my dog.


I need you (yes, you) to go read each side and vote for me...er, the one who's right.


Also, if you didn't listen to Crushing Krisis during the blogathon go download his songs, they are beyond awsome.

The Blogathon went sooo great. I had a blast. TPC brought in half of our goal, which was more then we thought we'd get, and we gave away ALL of our prizes.


Thanks so much to everybody who sponsored TPC, came by TPC and rallied us, and everybody who kept us company. I hope that those of you who couldn't do it this year can next, or that some of you are inspired to come and try next year. `Cause, the more the marrier.


I have a ton of people I'm going to link to from IBOM that I found during the `Thon that I'm stalking. I hope you guys enjoy them as much as I did. (Hey, if someone is good enough to get your attention when you're half asleep and drooling at 3 am, they're worth linky love.)



So now, back to our regularly schedualed programming...

Hey! It's almost time for the Blogathon! The Countdown is on! A little under 14 hours before we start Blogathon 2002! I'm so excited I can't wait, we've met 250 of our 500 dollar goal which is awesome. (But if you still want to sponsor us you can!)


For those of you who don't know, I'm blogging with TPC this year, so I won't be here! TPC will be giving away prizes every 30 minutes as well as I (me, Skyte) will be blogging to you live from a paranormal investigation.


Pretty kewl hu?


So stop by ok? Check out the goings on, say hi...have some fun. It'll be great.

I just finished a layout for a blog. It just took a few minutes, and it's um..orange...but the person who I did it for likes it. (Yay)


What do YOU think?

Announcer: Welcome to another exciting chapter of Childcare In The 29 1/2 Foot Century, when we last left our brave Childcare providers they were frustrated with their profession and the lack of protection for Providers from violent clients. Now, we join our heroines as they face their most irrational problem yet...


Yesterday at work started out like yesterday's at work always do. Sunny, warm, little cartoon birdies singing in the trees. (Ok, so maybe not, but it was a nice day.) We only had three kids, so it wasn't to horrible. I was able to just kind of lounge around insted of chasing six or seven kids all over the place in the heat, which was wonderful because I didn't end the day with hair like the bride of frankenstines.


(This post will be finished soon)

Ok, so I missed the Blogathon cut off date. So, I won't be blogging with IBOM this year, just with TPC, which is fine because I felt bad about leaving Pran in a lurch anyhow. (Actually, she terrified me into not doing it with IBOM, she said something about twine, a stick of butter, and jumper cables.)


So, that's that. Next year however I hope to have better luck pulling off my gimmic with this blog (TPC's gimmic is giving stuff away, which is more like blantant bribery then a stunt, but you got to go with what your public wants right?), which was a damn good one. Until then, you'll just have to live in suspense.


In other news today, the spiders have returned, and I believe they have run off with the big stick I kept propped up on my garage for the sole reason of whacking down their sticky little webs of evil. Maybe they're hiding it until their strange little powers grow to the point they can bean me over the head with it as payback. You can't try and convince me that they're not plotting against me...I've heard the little squeeks late at night, I know they want me dead or otherwise horribly maimed and scarred for life.


I don't like spiders. I don't. More then I don't like ants, and I really don't like ants. Damn spiders.


It's a lovely Sunday outside...I'm not sure what my plans are. I went to Salem's Art Fest yesterday, but someone wants me to go with them again today so I might (I also went to the Saturday Market, but didn't buy anything. I wanted to go see the Highland Games but nobody would go with me, I hate going to things alone.)...or I might go to the river. Or I might just sit here, and sit. Out of all of them sitting sounds the best so far. Oh sitting, how I love thee.

Just when you think life can't get any funner, it does.



And you just can't help but yell 'Goodie' while looking for something to chop your apendages off.


Even better? I get to go find another job on Monday...I can work all of them can't I? Sure I can.

There are always people you wonder about after you move on from contact with them. I wonder about everyone I've ever lost contact with, but thanks to a bunch of name calling from people who call themselves 'friends', and putting my stalking abilities to good use. I tracked one down. :)



Yay! After not speaking with him for over a year (Maybe two?), I had the extreme pleasure of chatting with him over the phone (and a bit online) yesterday. Makes me feel really thankful to be able to pick up friendships where they left off, makes me kind of sad though that I still have others I might never speak to again.


Unless of course I stalk them.

I smell like cinnamon...yummy. Today is Robert's (Also known as 'Mom's new hubby guy') birthday. So I, using the ploy it's his birthday, when really all I want to do is decorate a cake, made a very yummy smelling oatmeal rasin carrot spice cake. Now if it tastes as good as it smells, will have to wait and see. So, if I don't ever post again, it's because the cake has killed us all.


Along the same lines, I'm currently looking for victims in my newest scheme. If you're interested, leave me a comment. No, I won't tell you what it is here, because then you won't agree. Erm...forget I said that.



Oh, and for those of you following my whole Blogathon fiasco, I do almost have permission to pull off the gimmic I've got planned. I should know by this evening if I am or not. Woo.

I was so snottily told in a letter that I had the audacity of putting the wrong date on the last post for the blogathon.



Fine! I'm WRONG! Are you happy now? I don't admit it often so write it down. It's the 27th and the 28th


People. ::snort::


lol


In the mean time, I still don't know if I'm going to be doing it this year with IBOM or not, stuff just isn't panning out. Not for my lack of trying, let me tell you. There is only so much that can be done by bribery and threats though. Good old fasion Mob tactics just aren't what they used to be.

"Where's the thing to sponsor you for the Blogathon thing?"



Ahaha, see, I haven't signed up yet. Signups end on July 20th, and so far I haven't gotten the information I need from the charity so I can offically sign up. Yes, I'm panicing. No, you don't have to panic with me. If I don't get the information I need by the begining of the week I'll probably either forgo the Blogathon with this blog and do it souly with TPC (Which you can go sponsor! PLEASE!) or I'll find another charity and do it with them.



My gimmic also isn't lining up the way I want it to (which upsets me, I had such a darn good one too) but it still might pan out, so never fear. Your options my little lovlies are hold on to your money until I sign up, or you can sponsor me with TPC, where I will for sure be blogging on the 26th.


Until then...we just have to wait.

It's the little things in life that amuse me and give me reasons to continue my odd and irratic behavor. I live for this stuff.



I sometimes to surveys for a research company, it's kind of a thing alot of people do now and then. They pay you a bit of money and in addition you get to feel like you're opinion matters. That's not the reason why I do it however, I do it because they swear you to secrecy.


Muhaha.


I can't help it, it's just kewl. I know it's only because they don't want another company to get wind of their products, but I like to think it's more romantic then that. (Yeah, slap me, but you can't blame me! I bet you do the same thing.) I feel like I should dress in a ninja suit and hire some composer someplace to write me my own theme song when I fill these things out. My most recent survey on a product I can't disclose, has now turned into a test of said product-I-can't-disclose. With it was a letter telling me not to tell anyone about it at all.


Wonder though, if I do let it slip, are there a platoon of highly armed (highly cute?) men waiting to break thorugh the doors and windows and arrest me?


Hmm.

The wedding went fine for them, for anyone who was interested. I'm very (VERY!) glad that it's all over with, one more stress out of the way. They're still on their honeymoon and won't be back till tomorrow sometime. Today is my last day of vacation (if you can call this that) and tomorrow I get to open and run the childcare all by my little lonesome. Lucky me. (Side note, state was here yesterday morning at 9 am on the dot, isn't that funny? They got turned away again because we're closed!)



My landladies daughter came over this morning wanting money, (I had told my landlady at the wedding reception that I had SOME for her) and when I gave it to her, she came back wanting to know where the rest was. When I told her that the agreement is between be and my landlady (Meaning: What is it any of your business, so don't try and bully me) she backed off and got really nice. She said the family is worried because of the landladies health, and because my neighboors planning on moving and all this. (Well my neighbor is her daughter, she must not be TOO worried about what will happen because she's moving. Not that she should stagnate her life because of the building, but don't guilt me because of it, that's just silly.) I'm doing the best I possibly can with what I've got, which is nothing.


So, today I'm going to tell my houseguest to move because I can't afford him there, and I'm going to see if I can borrow money for rent (which technicly isn't due till the 15th anyway) because I don't have it, and probably won't for another three weeks. (Then it'll probably only be 300 bucks...all I've been paid the last three months has been about 400 bucks, I can't live on this.)


However, unless I get the money or find someone I don't mind living with to move in soon, it's looking like I'm going to be without a place to live, and lucky me, I've got nowhere else to go!


I'm sick of this crap.

I love fireworks.


Other people around me just don't understand my attraction to things that spew sparks and make loud noises. But how could you not like things that blow up?


So, yesterday marked another 4th of July in the big book of Life Holidays. I had a pretty good day, I spent most of the day just hanging out, then I went up to Mt. Angel to watch their fireworks show, which was pretty dang good for such a small community. It was about 45 minutes long. (Yay! 45 minutes of booms!) The place was packed with people sitting on the ground and lighting personal fireworks, and if you squinted just right it looked like a warzone. Bodies littering the ground, big booms of guns and a stinky haze of greyish green smoke everywhere you look.


I love the 4th.


Then I came back, and came over to Robin's and lit some fireworks off with John. I always have a huge stash, so I didn't have to buy any this year, and I even have more left over. Yay. Next year I'm buying some though, because I saw a few I really liked that I don't currently have in my pyro lovers collection.


That strange green cloud followed me home, it was like 'Stephen King's The Mist' but in patriotic colors. I went home at 3 am, and the entire neighborhood in every direction was still covered with this knee high swamp like mist that smelled faintly of sulpher, and in every direction you could see and hear boombs and crackles from other enlightened peoples fireworks.


How could you not like fireworks?


Today the check finally came, so I have to go run around downtown and buy stuff for Sunday, then I have to come back and finish the bookmarks. I can't put it off forever, unless of course I get hit by a car and go flying through some plate glass window and die twitching in a trench.


One can only hope.

I smell like burnt flowers!




It's not that attractive. I could sell it as a new parfum (snort) ode to crisp flowers. It'll attract guys from miles around.


Right.

I've spent most of the morning drying flowers in a nifty microwave flower dryer for Wedding favors, unfortunatly the fun was cut short when we found out that certain kinds of flowers burn.



Woo baby.



So now the kitchen stinks something awful, and I have to make a trip downtown to try and find the padding to recreate the stuff from the dryer (tight cotton and thick felt) in the fabric store so we don't have to buy it. (It's cheaper to make our own, then buy extras.)



We did, however, get a good 400 flowers done, so we'll have more then enough and some left over. (I want to make candles and soaps, and these will come in handy when I do.) Yay, they come out really pretty too...maybe I'll make some paper and put some of those flowers to good use.



I also have to do a whole other slue of stuff this week, and I'm already frazzed. I've got to go with everyone to get my hair and nails done and get my ears repeirced. I've got to go pick up a second ID, I've got all this food to make, I have to buy decorations still, I've got to do the wedding music, I've got to make ice rings, and do the favors of course, I've got to make mints (I got some cute molds for them yesterday), I've got to pick up cameras, find a video camera to borrow and someone to run the video camera, get the flowers for the arrangements, make the centerpeices, I've got to figure out extra parking, and find someone to direct parking, I've got to write a speech.........................................................a speech! AAAAAHG!




sigh. And to think..I enjoy this stuff.



Anyway, if I don't post often (pppft) this week, it's because I've finally fried my last brain cell and I'm now currently wandering around downtown dancing with my pretty pink tutu on like the graceful little ballerina I am.

(According to Mr.Rogers, everybody is fancy everybody is fine, your body is fancy and so is mine. I feel so, warm and fuzzly.)

Oohoo..add bad bottle of brand new apple juice to todays list of 'isn't this fun's.

Damnit, I wanted that juice.

I'm tired. I've already smoothed over tragities (including a very heartbreaking death of a pregnant cat), painted faces, made snacks, cleaned, fed lunch and took the kids outside and it's only noon.

I'm tired and it's hot.

I'm still expecting a visit from the state, I've got to go pick up a second ID, buy decorations, price more food (Yuck, too hot for food), go through my leftover fireworks (I always buy tons) so I can see if we need more for the 4th (Which is also my youngest brothers birthday) and go price them, finish planning the wedding music and put the CDs together and finish two layouts today.

I got an idea, how about I nap, and you do it for me?

I came back to post a second time, but forgot what it was I was going to say.

Wait! I remember.

Today I'm doing wedding music, and since I can't get any help, I'm on my own compiling a couple of CD's of music. I need suggestions. Anyone got any?

(Even though I'm doing all this work and no one helps, or gives suggestions, or they tell me to 'take care of it, we trust your judgement' when I ask a question. Someone actually had the gall to say (teasingly?) that to remember it's not my wedding. You know what I have to say to that? Fine, you do it. ::mutter:: I'll be damn glad when this mess is over.)

I'm worth exactly: $2,536,936.00. according to 'Human For Sale'. Now I know the exact amount I should hock myself for if I'm ever down and out. It's a wonderful feeling.

I actually kind of had fun.


Last night I attended another one of the stupid PCL (PDL?) classes. Basicly, these classes are to bore the life out of providers until the last spark of defiance is gone. They say they're to prompt higher learning in childcare providers. That's a crock, I already know all the stuff they 'teach'. But, ok.


The class was three hours long, but stretched into almost four. Outside Activites. When we first got there we had to sign in (So they know who's there and what name to put on your certificate...yes, you get a certificate, but it dosen't make up for the classes!) and then wear name tags. (Ew, I don't look good in a name tag...but then they told me to put my clothes back on, and it was a little better.) Then after a bref intro (And being offended a couple times...I paid for the class, it's not like I just showed up. The lady who was running it made a few comments about if you don't participate you won't get your certificate, and blah blah. She even added 'Understand?' a couple times! I wanted to stand up, salute and scream "Yes, Ma'am".) we got split into groups (Another thing, if I've paid for it, why can't I work with who I WANT to work with?) by giving everyone a number. I actually was lucky, I got placed with a group of four other people whom I've taken a couple classes with that were just hysterical to work with. Then, we got herded outside (erm, bad wording perhaps) to do some outside activites. Who would have known right?


There were six 'stations' set up. We had to go to each station, do the activity, and write down some notes on the Physical, Social, Language, Cognitive and Emotional aspects of each activity. (The class centered around the point that children learn differently outside, but still learn in the five.) Then we had to present them to the class later. (I didn't pay for public speaking man! If I'd wanted to do that I'd join Toastmasters!) We decided to split the five between us, mine was social. Something I'm never quite sure if I have a grip on.


The first station our group went to was covered with Jello and Balloons. We had to rub the balloons (ahem) on our heads and then hold them over the jello (poured on a plate) to see what the reaction was. It was actually really neat, although we made a huge mess with the jello. The second station was one where we had to make, basicly, gack. Yes, I made it, and I kept it. Because slimey nasty icky things are kewl.


The third station was the funnest. We had to make ice cream balls. We took a zip lock bag, put cream milk and sugar in it, and closed it up. Put it in another bag, inside another bag, inside another bag and filled the last bag with ice and rock salt. Then we rapped it in newspaper and duct taped it shut. We spent the rest of the class throwing it at (lol) each other and tossing it into the air. (I'm happy to say, the ice cream turned out ok...if you didn't eat the stuff that escaped the first bag, that stuff tasted like salt.)


The four station was paint, they taped a sheet to the wall and we got to throw sponges and stuff at the sheet. That turned into us trying to hit each other to get back at who-hit-who with the ice cream package at the last station. I love being silly. Someone missed at got paint all over a window. No, it wasn't me.


The fifth station was filling film canisters with alkaseltzer and water, putting the lid on and waiting for them to 'pop'. There were different types of canisters and lids to try. Our first try didn't work, but our second and third flew a good 20 feet in the air and made a loud pop. (Which made us jump, because we were sure they were duds.) The fourth didn't work, we were sad. Very, very sad. By now the ice cream package was cold, very very cold.


The sixth and last station was making stepping stones from cement (which I made a hand print in, later took home and filled the hand print with multi-colored glass chips, now I'm getting sealer to seal it. Gonna put it in my flower bed.) that was fun, but messy. My hands are still kind of sore and funky from the cement. They didn't like it.


Then we went back inside and talked about each station and their relation to development of the five, then we had to write our own outdoor activity (ours was an obstical course) then we had ice cream. (Yay for ice cream!)


All in all, I had alot of fun just goofing around with the group I was in. That made the class worth going to, becides a wonderful recipie for gack, and a kewl way to make ice cream, I didn't learn much else new.


I'm glad I went anyway.


Happy Birthday to Mackinzie! She's two, so she dosen't read this (or anything at all, for that matter). She's one of our clients, so I'm going to go paint faces and make cupcakes for after lunch. Woohoo.

You know what? Make a Wish foundation said that they don't endorse online activites so we can't use them as our charity for TPC.

Their loss, says I!


So today we have to pick a different charity that we can use. We've already got sponsors, so I'm hoping something awful that they don't mind.

On the up side, by the end of today IBOM will be signed up for the blogathon and I will reveal my amazing 2002 gimmic. (Even though most everyone already knows what I'm doing.)

I get off work early tonight. Thank you lord. 5:30, just in time to book my sorry butt downtown.

I have a meeting with the Revs who are preforming the ceremony on the 7th, the bride and groom, and the other person planning the wedding who is being semi-unresponsible lately. (I love her anyway though.) I have to ask them (the Revs) if it's ok if I rope off the parking lot, set up tables and decorate all over, and generally make a mess on their grounds. I hope they say yes, I'm always looking for an exscuse to make a mess in church.

I also get off work early tomorrow, but it's not for anything nearly as fun as wedding crap. I have another icky PDL class, I can't even remember what this one will be on. Goodie, it'll be like a suprise inside of a thrilling trip. I can't wait.

You're damn right I am. Got a problem with it?

What can I say? It was cute.

I went shopping (well, pricing to be honest) yesterday for decoration supplies for the wedding. I found the exact wedding colors (Lavender, Buttercup, and Mint. Don't laugh, I thought it was clever.) in everything I'm going to need. I was stoked, I would have danced all over the party supply place if there hadn't been other people there who would have signed the paper to have me taken away.



So next week when I get paid and after I take care of the monumental finantal problems I'm having, I'm going to go buy decorations. I love decorating, in fact I've often thought of opening some kind of party planning business just so I could legitimately fondle peoples' crepe paper.

I've always wondered something. (Bare with me here, I'm going to verbal vomit some nonsense on you for a bit.) Well, I'm always wondering something; but this is a something I've been wondering for always. With me so far? Good.


I'm sure, you being the type of person who notices these things that you are, you've wondered this same thing at one point in your life. Probably when you hit 15 or 16 and hit the short-lived phase in which you decided cartoons were for babies. It probably dawned on you, one rainy Monday morning listening to some underpaid Math teacher with her hair pulled back to tight lecture on the importance of equal sided quadraparallellograms, that cartoons that have the main characters as talking animals (Arthur, anything by Richard Scarry, ect.) have pets.


What are these pets? I often wonder in sheer bordom induced fear. Are they slaves to the speaking animals? Did they cause some horrible scandle in a past decade that forced them to forever be plauged with the role of a pet's pet? Are they evolutionary throwbacks? Do they just not know any better? Are they a bit slow? Maybe they used to ride the short wheel during hamster school.


Why would someone give one set of animals the ability to talk, have well dressed families, drive apple cars - yet force another set to live as lowly pets? What did these pet's ever do to deseve this? Did they accidently pee on the hydrant when they were shopping for a new top hat, and the punishment is to be the new puppy for the ardvark family down the street?


I am baffled.


Worse yet, sometimes - and the sheer revolting horror of this keeps me awake on long winter nights cowering under my K-mart bedspread - sometimes the pigs in the Richard Scarry books eat pork.


No, No. It's just too much. I can't take it.

Well, it's time once again to sign up for everyones FAVORITE blog activity, the Blogathon.



The Blogathon, for those who don't know, is a 24 hour posty thon in which we post every 30 minutes for 24 hours to our blogs and raise money for our charities for each hour we make the mark. (So ta speak.)


Yes, I'm proud to say I will be participating again this year (Along with some awesome people who did it last year!), I haven't signed up quite yet because I'm waiting for some information on the details I'm trying to work out with Habitat For Humanity the charity I'm donating to. I'm trying to see if the Salem Affiliate can use the money I raise to set up scholorships for a group in the area to go to Mexico and build houses. So I can't sign up quite yet until this is all worked out.


I'm also (because I'm insane) doing the blogathon with my wonderful group blog The Pervert Club. We'll be posting all sorts of nonsense, giving out prizes, and having a grand old time earing money for Make A Wish Foundation. This means, however, that I'll be posting in two blogs throught the entire night, plus IBOM's (this blog, silly) 'gimmic' which I'll announce right after I sign up for the `Thon.


Trust me, it'll be a good one.


So, please please please sponsor IBOM or TPC in this blogathon. We only need a little from everyone, and it would mean so much to me, and the people we're raising money for.


And I'd love you forever.

I'm not getting married, to clear that up. (I didn't mean to set a couple people to contact me in a panic...honest I didn't. Ahem.) My mother is (Getting married, that is), I'm just planning it. (All of it! And I'm not even getting paid! Watch, she'll want a present too.) I'm actually very honored that she asked not only my help in pulling this shabang off, but to be in it as well.

She's either really desperate, or she loves me.

Poor her, either way. ;)


BTW: Congrats to Cat!

Yesterday was offically the offical first offical day of offical summer. According to me, anyway. Yesterday was the first day all kids in the county were out of school, yesterday was the first day I walked around all day without shoes, and yesterday was the first day it hit over 90 here.


Damn heat.

Today it's supposed to hit over 100. Over 100 and I work in a childcare that dosen't have air conditioning.

Sometimes, I hate my job so much. ::grin::

The Wedding is only 24 days away, and as much as I'd like to lie and say I've got it all done I can't. I'd go to hell. I have to tell the truth: We're not ready. Since I'm the one planning, buying, decorating, cooking, even. I'm the one dripping slowly to that point where something pops in your brain and you spend the rest of your days in the corner with drool streaming down your chin and babbling aimlessly to the dust bunnies that you are the one true Christ.

I love pressure.

Ninja Burger



::giggle::

I'm lazy and should be flogged. I'll post more in the near future, I've just been busy and slightly crappy, so I figured I'd rather not spred it around, and I'd post when I'm in a better mood. Well, I'm sort of in a better mood now, but I've got nothing of substance to say. (Yes, I know that's pretty normal)


Happy 1st Birthday to Tainted Epitome, everyone go give the birthday blog some good birthday wishes. Show Olivia you love her. (Cause, you do, you know.)


I'm thinking of changing this blogs layout (It's about time, actually) and there for I justify not posting as thus:


"I'd hate to add more posts to the layout I have, when I'm just going to change it soon."


Pathetic, but it's the only thing I could come up with.

Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday dear Kelllllly, Happy Birthday to you!


I hope that you have the best birthday ever. Love you hon!

What's the world record for the most books read in one day? Maybe I'll look into beating it. I had something more eloquent and clever I was going to say here, but I'll say it later. :)

We fed the duckies yesterday, took the kids there and then over to another park and ran them ragged. They slept for four hours yesterday afternoon. (Yay!) Ran me ragged too though, I was so tired I fell asleep when it was still light out last night. Pathetic, really. Today we have a BBQ at another providers house, but not sure if we're still doing it. Tomorrow I'm taking the kids to the Iris Festival parade, goodie. Nothing I like more then sitting in the hot sun watching hokey floats and getting candy thrown at my head. ;)

I had a interesting weekend. On Saturday my younger brother got to go fly an plane..which scared the bejesus out of me. He can't even ride his skateboard with out bumping into someones shins, imagine the damage he could do with a plane. (Yeah, ok...what kind of sister am I?) He had a blast though, he's eight, and they took him up for 20 minutes and let him fly and everything. It was good for him...and good for me, I didn't have to go watch.


I did however, have to cover in the childcare while everyone was gone, but it was no big deal...the kids (all three of them) were actually pretty decent for once. (They're making up for it today).


Then I went to the Saturday Market...which is always good for finding cute homemade wares that I kick myself for not bringing money to buy. I wandered around and smelled all the flowers, and oohed over all the pretty pretties, and had a pretty good time. It was a wonderful day, about 65ish and sunny, so it was perfect Saturday Market weather.


Watched some guys tap dance, tried peruvian food (Which I've never had before, it was interesting. Not interesting-I-didn't-like-it interesting, but interesting-interesting. I had um...what did I have? I don't remember...it was chicken wrapped in this cornmeal type ball and cooked in a plantation leaf, fried plantains (Which I have had before, and don't know if I care for even after all this time. They're too corny tasting to make me think of Bananas, which I hate, and to banana tasting to make me offically put the like stamp on them.) and a cabbage type salad. It was pretty good....corny...spicey..gave me heartburn...I'd eat it again.), ran into some people I knew, got some kettle corn, and got stung in the face by a bee.


The last one wasn't exactly a highlight...but I had to throw it in for fun. It didn't hurt, the side of my face felt kind of funky the rest of the day, but it was no big deal. (Well...don't tell anyone, but in a secret dark corner of my little heart..I hope that bee flew off and landed all out of breath on the pavement and got squashed under the sole of somebodies tennie. Just...don't tell anyone I said that.)


On Saturday night OPIT was supposed to have an investigation but it didn't happen because of a medical emergency (Robin has a bad mouth and it was hurting her), so we'll have to reschedual it. I was bummed, it would have been a perfect night...but there is always next week.


Yesterday, I came over and Robin wasn't feeling any better so I gave her her mommies day present (A mothers necklace that was really cute..the only one I could find that didn't make me feel like my other had morphed into that gaudy pink haired lady from TBN) and went home and watched some movies, finished Gone with the Wind (I've never read it or seen the movie, so I decided I might as well...incase anyone cares...I didn't like it.) and ended up spending five hours in the Emergency Room trying to entertain poor Robin.


Just the way she wanted to spend her Mothers day too, dream come true.


While in the ER, I watched everyone (I watch people...but not in that creepy stalker way, I watch them because real people make the best characters. Plus, people do such amusing tricks. I wonder if they'll let me come and sit in the ER with a laptop and write character profiles.) I've decided a few things:



1. The ER sucks. Maybe not yours, but Salem Hospitals does. They're rude, inconciterate, and rude. (Did I mention rude?) They're the only hospital I've ever found who has the irrationality to ask a patiant who's in pain 'what do you want us to do about it?' Well shit, I don't know...didn't you go to medical school?


2. People bring their kids to the ER like it'll be some fun play date for them. I don't know why, I'm someones kid and the last place I'd want to play is the ER. Maybe I'm just some kind of throwback.


3. If you've broken your arm in three places, including your elbow, and your boyfriend is at home drinking your beer with another girl and refuses to come sit with you. You should dump him. (I'll tell this story another time, honest.)


4. Next time I'm in the hospital, I'm going to order pizza and see if they'll deliver to the waiting room. They deliver to the overnight rooms..why not the ER waiting room too?


5. I will never install cupboards into a room that have locks on the cupboard door, and lock them, so no one can steal anything, when the cupboard door has a huge hole in it for you to put stuff through. It defeats the purpose.


6. Just because the vending machine is in a hospital, dosen't mean the vending machine is sanitary.


Robin, is much better now, by the way. They gave her some meds and some other meds to knock out any infection and she's going to go see a dentist soon. One good thing did come out of the boring stay at the ER becides Robin being better, I came up with a good book idea...

Since the state has done everything in their power to keep this (and other incidents and things) out of the media, I'll report it.



A few weeks back a woman in Linclon City was attacked at her Home Childcare by a non custodial parent on drugs trying to steal the child. The woman did everything she could to keep this parent from entering the home, and in the process was horribly beaten. The 911 tape clearly has the non-costodial parent screaming 'Where are your knives bitch, I'm going to cut you up.'


A week later, insted of assisting her, the State of Oregon Childcare Division closed her childcare and fined her stating that she promoted a potentaly hazardus enviorment for children.


First, let me say that my personal opinion on this is once again the state has failed the childcare profession. The State of Oregon CCD spreds lies, runs a disorganized and irrational system, and promotes basicly, filth, to the general public to keep Childcare in a bad light. Insted of fixing the problem, they do everything they can to force the professionals in this business to quit so that the state can completely regulate state institutions that will be used for childcare.


Secondly, I'm tired of the media sucking up the state/parent side insted of talking to the people who actually do this job.

"It's too expensive", "We don't get good care", "They're all abusive", "If they ask for money, they're not good childcare providers!".

I'm tired of Time and Parent and all these other magazines and papers reporting that we're just a bunch of people who are responsible for the anger in young children and don't do good jobs.


They report the lone woman who was arrested for abandoning her childcare children, and ignore the woman who was closed by the state because her neighbor had a pool, or the dozens of woman who are physicly and verbally assaulted every year by clients who don't wish to pay their bill, or parents who don't have custody of the children. In the six years we've been in this area, I have been listed on over a dozen different restraining orders as a person to protect, and none of them were filed by me. I've been verbally assaulted by drunks, drug addicts, and physicly abusive men, and every single one of them were parents of a child in our care, and every single one got away with it because the state wants to 'protect the parents'. Yet, they got to turn around and report me with false claims to the state, and the state deems me the bad guy.

I've watched parents come to blows in our driveway over drugs, I've seen parents beat their children, I've seen blantant neglect and abuse, and not a single thing was done.


Why? Because the state has admited to me, that 'until they kill them, we won't do anything. But we'll come after you, because it looks like we are doing something'.


Oh joy, lord how I do love my job.


Now, please don't cringe and say you'll never move to Oregon. This is everywhere in the US. In fact, Oregon is one of the better states. It's a nationwide problem that's recieving nothing but cover ups and deaf ears. We're just Babysitters right? It's not a real job. I take care of your kids, I've got the most important job in the world.

Anyone else think it sad that 99% of the US population don't view their childrens care as important? Their children aren't people, their children are things they own. They don't want thier children, they could care less.


Think I'm being extreme? Nope, it's how it is...come to my job for a month. You'll see.


Ahha..I didn't think so. It's amusing to me, how everyone who bitches about us, wouldn't do this job. Who would? We only get 72 cents an hour.


There are, as in every profession, people who shouldn't be doing this because they're not good for the children. But, there is no reason that the garbage that goes on in this profession should continue any longer. No one out there but childcare providers know the truth about what's going on in this business. The public would be outraged if they knew the truth, that's why the state has laws like the federal one 'it's illegal to talk to any other childcare provider'. Did you know that? Yep..we can go to federal prision if we speak to another person who does childcare. Oh, exept, of course, in the state ran support groups.


I want to fix it, but I want out more...is that bad of me?

I'm bored. (Yeah yeah, "only boring people are boring". Well then chippy, that just makes me boring then too don' it? Goodie. Let me know when I start to make you fall asleep....hm...you think that's why people become hypnotists? Because they're boring and they can get people to fall asleep quick? Maybe that's what I should do. You are getting sleeepy....sleeeEEeeEpy...)

Ahem, I want to play a game. I'm currently taking your suggestions for a game. They have to fall into one of the catagories below:


* Horror

* Puzzle

* Horror/Puzzle


Yeah, really hard right? I have played almost every single horror/puzzle game out there...so let's see if someone can come up with one I haven't yet.

By request...





Still, one of the most amusing things I've seen around my town in a long time.