Oh...on another stupid note...that wasn't a total senseless babble tangent (See: Blog title) I found a new host, thanks to James.

Thank you James, have I ever mentioned how wonderfully great you are? ::grin::

Wonderfully great. ::nods::

I've decided since my current one seems to not want my money pretty badly, I'm just going to switch to someone better.

(Say it with me...subdomainsubdomainsubdomain...the things that make me happy.)

This of course means, that Hot Lake's opening MIGHT be set back just a little tiny bit, but we'll have to see about that, it could, in fact, open on time. Depending on how much offline work I do on it, and how fast I am once everythings changed, getting everything back up. We all know I'm slow, this'll be like...a test.

Yeah...that's it...to see how bad I fail. Will I make baby Jesus weep? We'll see.

Aaaah..Baby Jesus...that brings back memories. Not fond ones...almost...surreal.

Want another story? You know you do...

(Please realize that everything I write is with a small grain of humor, I don't mean everything I say. So don't take it literal. I don't think anyone is evil, terrible, wicked or demon-spawn. I just say it because it sounds good.)

Once upon a time, in a small land far-far away known as the great territory of Oregon, lived a lovely young woman named Robin. (applause) Now Robin had two small children, who were decent children, in the grand scheme of things, and were really quite pleasant to be around. Other then the normal children things, that is.

One day, a good friend of Robins introduced her to a man named John. Now on the outside John seemed normal. Good job, nice house, nice guy. On the inside however, he was an oozing black pit of evil poison religion spit. (Dum dum dum..)

Now, this isn't the story of John, and his lunatic fantasies of starting a Jim Jones like cult, or Robin and her flee from doom, no, this story is on John's mother.

Soon after John and Robin were married, John's mother began her wicked plan to brainwash Robin's children into mindless God-fearing drones, who would do her every command. At the start, she didn't like the child named Jamie. (Who would have guessed?) she said Jamie was sneaky, and a liar. (Oh..and I am.) She told Jamie all the time how she was failing because she didn't do dishes right, or sew like the neighboor girls, because she didn't keep her dresser drawers in perfect order, and how she made Baby Jesus cry, and what was she going to do about that?

Jamie decided this lady was a raving bag of white hair-topped wind, and she could care less if Baby Jesus cried. What kind of parent was God anyway, she wondered, if God just let Jesus throw fits about things like shirt folding and floor mopping. Didn't Jesus have bigger fish to break? Didn't Jesus have better things to do, then weep over the toilet paper roll being put on under insted of over?

What was this Jesus' problem anyway?

The evil Grandmother however, failed to see the point of these questions. Jamie, being smart, and having to only learn once or twice from the smack of a belt, kept her little mouth shut, and put the damn paper on the way the evil Grandmother wanted it.

And bided her time.

(No, I never pushed her in a freakin' oven...what kind of person do you think I AM?)

I've been absent the last couple of days, and even more absent on AIM (Which, amusingly, makes people angry with me.), but I'm here now, so you can stop crying. (Yep..I know it's not just dirt in your eye.)

I feel like telling a story. No, not a good one...sheesh, I told you...I save those for my other journal.

I'm at work (of course) and today we had a four year old come in about a half hour early, (This is the same four year old that is spoken about in an earlier post...you know, the one about child eating disorders? Well..that's what it is Refresh yourself.) and when his mother came in, I was sitting there trying to get a nail I had just broken off my poor finger, because it was still stuck by a scrap of skin. (Guys just don't understand. Broken nails hurt, especally if you break them down past the skin...which is what I did, then they bleed, which was what it was doing when I was oh-so not attentive enough.)

She gave me that look, you know "hands on the hips, why don't you dance and sing because oh JOY of joys my son has arrived to grace your childcare with his light and laughter and ooshy gooshie snoogems, kiss him and hug him and love him so much" look. I know this, not because I'm looking at her, because it's drilling little holes into the top of my poor little head.

Now, it's not that I don't love them, it's just at this point and time in my story, I had a broken nail that was bleeding all over the place, and it hurt, so I didn't greet her with great enthusiasam. (Pity...snicker) So, I'm sitting there preforming major surgery on my finger, (Thumb, left hand, for those that care.) and she's pretty much giving me the all mighty 'don't forget you're just my babysitter' look.

Now, this is the conversation that followed her entry into our humble childcare. I've, for your viewing pleasure, translated from 'client speak' or 'Jamie-eese' into plain english. You're welcome.

"Where's Robin?" (Means: I don't want to leave my child with HER, she didn't even kiss my feet when I walked in. Jamie isn't good enough.)

Tug...tug...OW..."I don't know, in the other room?" (Means: Do I look like the babysitters babysitter?)


"Well...have they had lunch yet?" (Means: I slept until 11:45 which gave me exactly enough time to get dressed and come here. My child hasn't eaten, because I don't know what an apple is, and becides...you always feed them.)

"Nope."

"Well...um..we had a rabid dog." (Means: I can't admit I didn't feed my child, so let me change the subject to something unsuspected so Jamie, who we all know is easily confused, is sidetracked.)

Of course, this point in the play, I had to quit messing with my poor abused nail and pay some sort of attention. (This paints me in such a bad light, I swear I'm not this unprofessional all the time. Just..my nail...) She relayed the story, which...in essense boils down to calling animal control, and went outside to put her kid on the table for lunch. All the while, her child is sniffling and crying because he knows right after lunch is nap time, and naps hurt.

Anyway, shortly after she leaves, Robin asked me to look at the kid, because it looked like someone smacked him in the side of the head. I go outside and he's got this lovely horseshoe type mark, bright red, right by his right eye. (Jakie says it looks like someone smacked him with the claw side of a hammer, and it does.)

So now, since the state demands we track and report these things, or else WE get fines and jail time if it comes out someone at home was abusing the child. (I understand keeping track and reporting, however, if I'm unaware of things going on at home, or if I've just recieved a child and had them one day, I don't appriciate being fined or jailed because they were abused and I didn't know about it.)

Now, I don't want to say anyone was hitting him, or hurt him. (cough) When I asked him about it, he said moms boyfriend did it. (Note: Just so you know, I never take the word of a child. Why? Because children, especally those under seven, or wanting something when someone said no, twist, lie and forget details, and basicly are a DA's worst nightmare. I also can't stand parents who take the word of their three year old as gospel, and never ask an adult about it. That's stupid. Sorry, I know you parents want to think what you're kids saying is true...but kids don't get the whole story.) Now, I won't say he DID do it, but I also won't say it's not a posibility. Especally since he's done it to mommy before, and the kid watched. (Sick, no? She went back to him too...basicly that teaches the child it's ok to hit, because boyfriend hits mommy when she didn't do what he wanted, so it MUST be ok to hit when I don't get what I want. And he does too, all the time. )

I don't know, I just see more disfunction and stupidity (seriously, otherwise I wouldn't use that word) in parents with children today then I've ever seen. Out of probably 1,000 children we've seen come and go, only five of those children came from two-parent families, and only two of those five, lived with both biological parents.

I've seen only two single mothers, who were responsible to their children. I've never seen a single father who was responsible at all.

I've seen children so afraid of their step parents that they would jar themselves in doorframes and hide under furnature to keep from having to go home with them. I've seen children beat babydolls on walls and with other toys telling them they're bad, and how they should just die. I've seen children play 'I'm daddy, you're mommy, you hit me'. I've seen children with parents that are such big hypocondriacts that their kids, by age three, had been on every known child antibiotic, even though the child was never sick.

I've seen parents leave their children 18 hours every day, for days on end, and then bitch because they can't bring them over on their days off. I've seen parents care more about the party their going to, then the fact that it's 30 outside and we brought them with no pants on. I've seen them bring them late, get them late, tell them that they love one better then them, I've seen them act angry when they had to pick up all their kids, insted of just one or two because one of the other daddies didn't come get them and they didn't want them, you name it...I've seen it. Every day, every family, every child.

But these parents get assistance, they get out of their childcare bill, they don't ever get investigated by the state, they raise children who are more messed up by two, then any 30 year old out there.

But in the end, it's always the providers fault.

And people wonder why America is so fucked up.

Ok...I'm on a mission.

New domain host...suggestions?

Something not-expensive ok, but good.

Please...thank you.

To the (insert really angry word here) who tried to hack into one of my sites today.

Keep your sticky little fingers to yourself, damnit.

I went shopping today. Not for spic n' span, or socks, or even a new spatula. I went shopping for storefronts.

Oooooo....square feet shopping. There's that math crap again. Someone should be able to just take a string, walk down the street and point at me and yell "This is xnumbero square feet" and then, by jove, I'd have it. All this number on paper stuff does nothing but confuse my lone brain cell.

Why, you ask was I shopping for square footage (Love that word...footage footage footage.), because I want a store. I've always wanted a store, but my inability to cement myself to one project has gotten in the way of that long tended dream. (That...and I'm broke, that puts a damper on everything.)

But, today...since I decided I'm not doing Childcare for much longer (I'm never having children. Never. Little nose wipin' cheese smellin' yellin' short people in socks.) and as fun as the idea of finding another building to open a bigger preschool is...the idea of a store just makes me ooze spittle (such an attractive picture) down the front of my shirt. It's a shoppers dream, to own the store in which all the items you love to molest in other stores live.

You know...shopping...it's like heaven with shoes. See, how could you go wrong with a store?

Anyway, I want a mélange store. Little bit o' this and that, all fun, all cute, all mine...er...well, mine to sell, that is.

So, I'm going to see if I can do up a buisness plan, and find some sweet sap to give me a loan. Maybe this will work out this time...none of my other ideas ever do. Why is that? Hrms...

Rhea Rhyolin: Am I weird?
Ganonon: Yes.
Rhea Rhyolin: Is it a bad thing?
Ganonon: No.
Rhea Rhyolin: So...you love me then?
Ganonon: Of course.
Rhea Rhyolin: ::grin:: Good.

See, that's all a girl needs...a little reassurance from her friends once in a while. Ben loves me...do you love me?

My 'People To Read' list is getting very very long. I keep finding more and more blogs that I like. In fact, there's a good seven or eight links from my desktop to blogs I don't even have up here yet.

I'm runnin' out of room, what ever shall I do?

And yes, I read all of `em. Every single flippin' one. `Cause I can.

Ok, here's a little tip. If you dump your cookies, your cute little rainbow pal reverts back to age 1.

I knew that, why did I dump my darn cookies? Urgh.

(He's back to what he was before now...)

You know, there are alot of things I don't say here because I know someplace out there, there will be someone who just can't keep certain things they should, to themselves. Which frustrates me, because it's my blog, (not that I write the real stuff in here...mostly it's just...babble. My well written, soul wrenching, decent stuff is in my journal, so no one can snicker at it.) and because I should be allowed to say what I want without reprocussions from other people who just 'happen by' and probably will never come back again. (Personally, I don't know why ANYONE would come here...I'm boring. I swear.)

I don't write in here for anyone, just like I don't write in my normal journal, or even write fiction for anyone. I just...babble to babble. Adding the fact that I don't want to offend anyone (and lord knows there's always one in any group...) it makes it really hard for me. That's why I've always stayed away from alot of things going on in my life, because sometimes parties involved know where this thing is. ::grins:: (Not that I say anything bad about anyone in my other journal. But...you know.)

I think, when it comes to the point that you're stopping yourself from touching certain subjects, or censoring yourself on what you do talk about, it's time to get a journal no one sees. :)

The reason for that little speil....how do you ask people nicely to stop sending you gobs of 9-11 stuff, with out them thinking you're just a big fat glacial doo-doo head with no patriotic spirit? I realize it's only been almost a week, but my mail server is having a hard time with the huge amounts of (I'll be honest here...most of the time it's total blathering bullroar) stuff I'm getting in my box about it.

It dosen't mean I don't think it was a terrible thing to happen...I just can't have my box crashing when I have things of other topics that can be quite urgent coming through. Especally the things that will help me finish work that'll help me get paid that'll help me pay my over-due gonnashutitoffonyounowma'am power bill. (Overdue because I don't get paid, not because I don't pay. So...um there!)

Any suggestions?

Just to clarify something, it's HotLake.com not HotLakes.com. At last check, the latter was a porn site.

I don't do porn.

"You know, you're kind of funny."

Yeah, it surprises me too sometimes.

I got invited to a group blog! ::giggle:: I feel so special. Sooooo, now you have to go over there and check it out. They seem like a reeeeeeaaaaaaaalllllly nice group. ::nods:: This should be alot of fun. :)

Wil posted this, it's actually the first time I've seen it, and it's worth the read.

----

I went to Bottled Voices and she had a rainbow pal. Like the sheep I am, I found it adorable and had to grab one.

His name is Norbert, if you can guess why, you get a prize.

:)

Someone left a comment about my 'bombing' post (Thanks...I love comments, just please keep them nice, alright? I would never attack you...I just ask the same in return. And no, this person didn't attack me...it was for whoever it is out there who wants to...I see you! I love ya anyway. ::grin:: ) asking me if I had a better solution.

Honesty is the best. No, I don't.

I'm a Childcare provider honey, I know what it's like to deal with people who are so set in their ways anything short of Jesus' second coming wouldn't make them change their minds. I know what it's like to work with people who'll take everything you can give, and stab you in the back just as fast. No, I'm not super woman, I don't have all the answers, and I can't make people see things they don't want to. (If I could, I'd stop my feet, do a dance, smack them all with my fairy wand and call it even. But I'm not a fae, and lord knows I can't dance...so there goes that idea.) I know they think the way think is correct, (And I'm not one to say 'you're wrong, I'm right' I'm just saying violence of any kind shouldn't happen...) and I can't change their minds. As much as I hate to say it, our collective society isn't ready to move past violence as the answer, so hence, violence seems to be the only way they can deal with this right now.

Dosen't mean I agree.

I'm not stupid, or naive (Check it out! I can spell it!) in the least, I'm also very open minded and non-judgemental. (Well...I try, I try VERY HARD. I hate the idea of hurting anyone because of disrespect to the things they deserve. I deseve to not be hurt because of my views, so they do too. I'm by no means a saint...::snicker::...heaven probably is scared to death of the day I'll come around, but I still try.) I know they have reasons for what they're doing, and they believe those reasons to be right, just as we do. I know you can't sit down over tea and be good natured and come to a stable ground. Ain't gonna happen. No sewing bees for this lot.

I don't control their goverment, or their history, or their religion. Their way of life is much, much older then ours, so I have no right to demand they change the way they are. I don't have the right to demand ANYONE change the way they are.

It dosen't mean I agree.

I can only hope.

Oh...I also know they probably never (or very rarely) have childcare over there, it was used as an example of something deeper. :) Perhaps childcare provider wasn't the right word, how about nanny. I'm sure the weller-to-do families have them, don't they? What's the persian word for nanny anyway?

----

On a totally different note! I FINALLY got the number for Shirley Peters (one of the authors of 'The Town Under One Roof') I'm going to contact her Monday on the possibility of resale in Hot Lake's store. This is something I've been asked about since I had the Geocities site open, so hopefully she says yes. I'll give her half the sales, of course...it would only be right.

So, cross those fingers, I really want to offer this. I'm giving one away, actually, at the opening on Halloween. So if you REALLY want a copy, and can't find one for sale anywhere else, stop buy and fill out a form. You never know, you might win...and I'm giving away some other neat stuff too...`cause I'm kewl like that. (Well, I like to think so...anyway.)

Cass has abandoned me for Las Vegas, so that means I'm in charge of The Warriors all by myself. Kim is OL because of her wedding...::giggle:: so lets see how bad I mess up this time. I am NOT a score girl, I'm the behind the scenes do everything else girl. The scores scare and confuse me...can you say...math?

Gives me shivers just thinking about it.

Good reads...I agree with ALOT of what is said here. Americans are blind to the violence we cause on other countries daily, thinking it's our right, no, our duity, to carry out these acts upon them.

It frustrates me that the general population refuses to believe that we have no more right to make another countries people feel unsafe in their own lands, then they do ours.

I fixed Reblogger. That means you can yell at me now, if you want.

I don't mind.

Erm..wow..Ev linked to my post...how flattered am I?

Really flattered...way to make a girl smile. :)

Oh and look...this'll make all you web designers out there happy...even big shot TV (ok...local big shot TV) stations webdesigners have to work out bugs.

Sometimes, the universe is so kind.

I was asked what "bombing" is. It was bound to happen, working with two to eight year olds all day long every day...the news is always on, I suppose there was no way the kids would turn blind eyes. It always seems they like to watch it more when somethings getting blown up, or someones getting hurt. I remember once, a Nightmare on Elm Street movie was on, and I was flipping, and landed on it. I didn't leave it there to leave it there, I left it there because something distracted me before I could change it.

I remember the kids only paid attention to it the minute a parent walked in the door. Whoops, busted.

Anyway....
Anthony, who's four, was watching the TV so intently I thought his eyes were going to drop out of his head. Turned to me right after someone mentioned bombing, and said in his little voice 'what's bombing?'

Em..ah..er..splutter...splutter. "Bombing is when they drop explosives from airplanes" needent get into the people who stash them in buildings, not at four. No, let's avoid that one...wait till your six son, then ask your mom.

"Well...do we bomb people?"


Erm...ahh...squirm..."Sometimes"

"Why?"

Blink....oh...damn
How the hell am I supposed to answer something I don't even know? I don't know why we bomb, to me a life is a life, it's something no one should have the right to take away. I don't think we should bomb over there, and kill people who were just as innocent as the people in America were. I don't agree with eye for eye, nuke `em, it's the only way they'll learn, because at the bottom of it all, at the very end of the world, we're all the same. We're all people.

I can't say it's because we're protecting ourselves...because...because...I don't want anyone taking Anthony the way they took lives back east....that's true, but I'm sure in some daycare over on that side of the world, there's a provider who dosen't want her Anthony taken eaither, and she thinks they're just protecting themselves too.

Clay (from Bleeding Monkey) just told me one of the bloggers there, Tomi died in the WTC thing.

I only knew of her, but now I wish I would have taken the minute to say hi.

She'll be missed, even by those who didn't know her.

Just in case...

Sing along with me boys and girls...Duck and cooooover...

Ok, I'm sorry..my humor is how I deal with things...becides, you got to admit...it's stupid and funny all at once.

I don't care if you think I'm terrible...I'm actually a sweet, kind, nice person...I just have a sick sense of humor...and damnit, it's my Blog! So there!

::huffs::

Here's one...the coverage from the eyes of a canadian...

I've seen alot of posts from people who are angry with the very idea of anyone bringing up 'God'. How we should look back to God, put our trust in God, ect.

In their eyes, 'God' (Not the altertnate lifestyles? That was a JOKE! by the way.) is to blame for what happened.

Yeah...mmmmhuuu...God gets off on those new-fangled Omnipitant Controled Airoplanes

Me - "Hey God, what's with crashing those planes into that building? Don't you have better things to do?"

God - "No offence Ma'am...just weeding out the population."

::snickers:: I should be shot.