OUCH! Talk About Your Bad Hair Day

Photo from Google Images

Stinging Nettle is a herbaceous flowering plant found in Europe, Asia, northern Africa, North America and apparently my back yard. The leaves and stems are covered with brittle, hollow, silky hairs that contain three chemicals, i.e., histamine, acetylcholine and serotonin. The histamine irritates skin and the acetylcholine causes a burning sensation acting as a neurotransmitter in both the peripheral and central nervous system. I'm not sure what the serotonin does. When you accidentally grab the plant as I did today in the broccoli patch while weeding, the tiny plant hairs act like syringes, injecting you with these three chemicals.

I've encountered stinging nettle before but never felt pain like I did today. And the pain simply was not going away 4 hours later. Ten hours and 50 mg of Benadryl later on the Wong-Baker pain scale:
I'm a 4. Whats up with that? Obviously, I've had a freakishly severe reaction.

Someone suggested I buy my broccoli at Publix as she hears it's good this time of year.

In reading about this little plant I've learned some interesting things. For instance, if applied to an area of intense pain such as my arthritic toe it helps relieve that arthritic pain. Scientists think nettle does this by reducing levels of inflammatory chemicals in the body, and by interfering with the way the body transmits pain signals. My theory is you are in so much pain from the nettle injections that you can no longer feel your arthritic toe.

I might be tempted to try it on my toe if I didn't think I would lapse in to an anaphylactic coma after the application.

Stinging Nettle is also edible and supposedly tastes like chicken spinach. If you soak it in water before you eat it the little hypodermic hairs are rendered helpless.

Photo from Google Images

I'll stick with spinach.

Has anyone else encountered this plant?

When You Buy Organic...

Yes, I'm on a GMO rant in case you haven't already noticed. I am bitterly disappointed by the the USDA's decision to allow unrestricted planting of GMO alfalfa last week. Thank you to all who wrote the USDA's Secretary of Agriculture to voice your disapproval. At least you did something.

"Organic and others are now left, once again having to take all the precautions while biotech takes little responsibility," said Liana Hoodes, NOC Director.

Big Brother is killing the organic industry. One genetically modified cell at a time.

Read it and weep big Roundup tears.

And while I'm on this rant which I hope NEVER ends when you buy organic products you didn't really think you were thumbing your nose at Big Bother did you?

Go here.

And most definitely here.

This on-going battle goes beyond feeding your children and family responsible, healthy food by buying organic most of which is owned by big corporations.

How can you help?

Fight back and plant your own "victory garden" even if it's only a few pots on your condo balcony. Use Heirloom Seeds. For names of seed companies to avoid go here and scroll down to the end.

Declare war against our dwindling food supplies and buy local. Please support your local farmer. If you don't know how e-mail me. I will help you.

Photo from Google Images

Go picking!


Three simple, fun things to do as a family. How can you beat that?

"Anyone Who Becomes Belligerent..."

The Baby and the belligerent finger

The Baby had a neurology follow-up with our new-ish neurologist, Dr. Normal this morning. He is normal. Nice. Intelligent. A father. Compassionate. Funny. And he told me today he has high cholesterol and never does what his doctor tells him to do. How can you not love Dr. Normal?

For 18 years I managed to avoid Snooty Neurology Group in the children's hospital. As a nurse I turned down a neurology promotion because I could not justify working with this practice. They embarrassed me as a health care provider and I did not want to be associated with them.

So to manage The Teenagers cerebral palsy we went to Dr. Hottie Cuban Guy instead. Then he moved to Miami. Before he moved he gave me his private number and told me if I was ever in Miami to call and he would "give me a tour." I may have fantasized about that "tour" one or two times over the past 1 1/2 decades.

So. After saying adios to Dr. HCG we went to Dr. Awesome Mom. Dr. Awesome Mom quit within the year to stay home with her tweens who needed her.

So. We went to Dr. French University Professor. She quit after a few years to limit her practice to the big city exclusively.

So. Then we went back to Dr. Awesome Mom who by then had gotten her unruly tweens under control and returned to practice. She lasted one visit and then quit due to politics.

So. Then we went to Dr. Normal who had just signed a 7 year lease and assured me "he would not be going anywhere." When we went back for our 6 month check up he came in and sheepishly informed me he was breaking that lease to accept a very prestigious position at the children's hospital.

Losing Dr. Normal made me cry.

In December of 2009 when the Teenager had her very first seizure we ended up in the dreaded Snooty Neurology Group office since there were no other options. The first thing you see when you sign in is this sign:

If you have problems ask to speak to the office manager or nursing supervisor.
To provide a comfortable environment for our patients we ask that...
You refrain from the use of profanity
Anyone who becomes belligerent or abusive to a staff member or a patient of Snooty Neurology Group will be asked to leave.
If you do not leave we will call security.

The Boy being belligerent.

Because my children have Medicaid The Teenager never got within 50 feet of the actual Snooty neurologist. She saw the nurse practitioner two days after the initial seizure and concussion and only because I have two friends who work in the Snooty Office who made sure we got an immediate appointment. When I told one of those friends that the ER told me Snooty Neurologist (who couldn't be bothered to even show up at the ER) wanted The Teenager to be seen in in his office in 24 hours because of the concussion she suffered falling during the seizure my friend informed me, "now you know he never said that. They just tell parents that in the ER to get them out of there."

Yep. I know that's right.

In the early 60's Olshansky described a pervasive psychological phenomenon observed in parents of mentally retarded children. He contended that chronic sorrow is a natural and understandable response to a tragic event, and is manifested throughout the lifespan of the parent-child relationship when the child has special needs. This was a big contrast to the previous theorists who believed the non-resolution of mourning to be unhealthy. Olshansky disputed the closure stage of other theorists as it symbolizes acceptance, which he saw as a simplistic and static concept. He argues that sorrow is a normal response to an overwhelmingly tragic event.

Like having snooty doctors who determine your child's worth based on how well the insurance company reimburses him? Chronic sorrow, indeed.

Months later I got word from a nurse friend that Dr. Normal was seeing a handful of seizure clients in addition to his job as big chief of epilepsy surgery. She asked If I wanted her to ask if he would see my girls. He agreed to see both The Baby and The Teenager.

Happiest day of my life.

Today we saw Dr. Normal for The Baby's 6 month follow-up and discussed weaning The Baby off of her Phenobarbital which she has been on for 3 years. He approached me with the idea of weaning 6 months ago but I was not ready. If it isn't broken don't fix it? Right?

Wrong.

I made the mistake of taking a course regarding drug withdrawal in neonates for the 24 hours of continuing education I need as an RN and the 36 hours I need as an Early Interventionist. Besides getting some CEU's I realized I needed to get The Baby off of the Phenobarbital which was long-term bad news.

I confessed to Dr. Normal that the CEU course was the catalyst for my decision. He confessed he never listened to his doctor either thus the cholesterol story.

Of course due to her neurological devastation from the birth in the hallway she has an extremely high potential for seizures. Dr. Normal stated, however, that even if she begins having seizures during the Phenobarbital withdrawal process he would not ever put her back on it. She would go on a more appropriate seizure medication instead. This was comforting. Comforting you may ask? Yes, people. You take what you can get.

Belligerent? I'll show you belligerent.

We barely made it to this mornings appointment with Dr. Normal as my alarm did not go off at 6:00. Instead I woke up to sunlight at 7:22 am and nearly stroked out. The Boy leaves for school at 7:30 am. The appointment was 8:20 am. Try getting 3 medically complex children and yourself ready in less than an hour. I dare you.

After seeing Dr. Normal we screeched to The Boy's school to pick him up for his monthly school bowling field trip. He can't ride the bus with the rest of the school as it doesn't have seat belts. Brittle bone disease + no seat belts = no way.

The teenager locked the car while I was getting The Baby in the wheelchair at the bowling alley. Unfortunately, she locked my purse and the keys in the car. I have used up my AAA allotment for the year working in the hood and getting flat tires monthly.

Uh oh. I cannot afford a locksmith.

The Teenager starts the slow, simmering melt down process as she realizes no debit card means no cheeseburger in bowling alley paradise. She is barely keeping it together. Call me unreasonable but even though she is developmentally delayed she is not autistic therefore I think she should be able to grasp the concept of delayed gratification. Right?

Boy, was I wrong.

By the time my dad gets there with my spare key The Teenager is in full blown cheeseburger withdrawal meltdown. The Boy's teacher hands The Teenager to me with one hand and her wiglet which she has ripped out of her head with the other.

We leave the bowling alley and The Boy and I both agree we are humiliated by The Teenagers cheeseburger melt down.

I am exhausted but In three hours we are going to Hospice's Family Fun Night to spend the evening with Winter the dolphin.

Family Fun Night? Now there's an oxymoron.

Or am I just being belligerent?

Roundup Triggering Sudden Death Syndrome

Photo from Google Images

No, not Sudden Infant Death Syndrome.

SDS in plants. Those of us who have had the light bulb switched on regarding Monsanto's genetically modified seeds and extensive use of herbicide knew it was just a matter of time.

Seems the time has come.

Read this article.

And take the one minute it requires to click on this link found in the article:

Please tell USDA Secretary Vilsack not to approve Monsanto’s alfalfa today.

For some reason I cannot link to it on my blog so you must go to the article itself.

If you don't do it for yourselves at least do it for your kids. We have choices. They may not.

"You teach best what you most need to learn." -- Richard David Bach

I have today off since so many clients are sick this week. Work is slow. Cutbacks have reduced referrals and everyone is suffering especially the high risk children who would have normally qualified for services. I hear this every where I go. Mental health services. School system pre-K services. Services for the elderly. We are a nation on the brink of disaster. I know there are many who would not believe that last statement but I do. Having spent my entire career working with the "indigent" population I can say with certainty that the new "indigent" are the American middle class.

This nation has changed but too many are unaware of the changes. I'm not certain what the catalyst will be to throw us over the edge but I feel certain there will be one. Or perhaps I'm wrong about one specific catalyst like a flu outbreak or a natural disaster that would set the chain reaction in motion. Maybe the festering boil of what's wrong with our country will finally cause a sepsis that we will not recover from instead.

The chaos surrounding the death of our city's police officers and wounding of the U.S. Marshall has prompted tremendous discussion. Knowing where I work people have asked me a lot of questions. Someone e-mailed me this morning asking if it was true that there was a crowd outside the shooting cheering the perpetrator on. Yes. It's true. Any many still are.

Photo Google Images

I'm not here to pass judgment. If there is one thing I do know about where I work it's that people in the neighborhood can smell insincerity on you like a shark after blood. It's a survival tactic honed from many, many years of being beaten down. I wouldn't go where I go if I thought I was better because I'm white and I most assuredly wouldn't go where I go if I was a bleeding heart. Neither attitude will guarantee your survival.

I've been thinking about this blog this morning and why I blog. It started as a catharsis. A diary with photos. What I didn't anticipated is how it would open up my world. It has been inspiring meeting fellow thrifters and crafters. It has been eye-opening meeting green folk and activists. It has been comforting fellowshipping with other parents of special needs children.

More than the above benefits, however, blogging has proven to be educational. I have learned, among other things, that I too have been dwelling in a protective bubble. ME! The die hard survivalist with the bins of rice and dried beans in my closet for "just in case" times. Blogging has popped that sucker big time. Who would have EVER anticipated that benefit? Certainly not me.

And so I'm sitting here thinking yesterday as I'm reading about the law suit involving Taco Bell that i should start sharing things like this article on the blog. Like Dissertation To Dirt does on Friday's. Like Big Mama, A Year Without Groceries, and Denimflyz does routinely.

Last night I sat sipping organic coffee, listening to the storm pounding on my window and reading my 2011 Baker Creek Heirloom Seeds catalog. I learned that Monsanto( who brought us Agent Orange, DDT and now genetically modified seeds) has seen their stock plummet this past year as their profits have decreased by 40%. If you feel sorry for Monsanto please watch the documentaries, Food, Inc. and/or King Corn. It's documentaries like these two that have educated the public, including myself, and opened eyes that were not seeing clearly. Education works. As evidence by the declining profits.

I'm not sure when or how often I'll pass things on. My life is far to hectic to add anymore custodial tasks. But I keep thinking if I didn't know about some of these things then a lot of other people may not know about these things...and well... it's important to know isn't it?

So let's start with Taco Bell this week. We've all eaten there. It's cheap. Right?

Seriously though people. And be honest with yourself. When you sunk your teeth into that mush in that burrito did you really believe that slimy stuff you were ingesting was 100% meat? Really?

There. I'm done.

That was easy wasn't' it?

Monday At Work

10 News photo

Bay News 9 photo

I work in some rough neighborhoods actually preferring them. I'm not sure why. Once I informed my client's mom and her sister that I had a new family on XYZ street. They looked at each other with genuine, worried expressions. "Teacher...that's a B-A-D neighborhood! You be careful in that neighborhood." It was two blocks away from their home!

Smile.

This morning my first client hollers, "Teacher! Teacher! There's shooting!" People have asked if I heard the shooting. No. The kids are noisy, I'm noisier and the mom had just turned on the heater in the closed up house. The video footage we ran to watch on the family tv showed more police in one block then I've ever seen in 58 years of life. The client's parents and I agreed as we sat stunned in front of their big screen tv that now would be a good time to rob a bank. Every law enforcement officer in the city was just blocks away at the scene.

Who was watching the city we nervously asked out loud?

I think this video says it all. It's not professionally made which makes it all the more chilling.

Raw Video: Shoots fired in St. Petersburg.

I like the lady in the end of the video. "We'd better get out of here."

Ya think, lady?

It is now believed over 100 shots were fired. They had to ram a hole in the house where the gunman was hiding to get one of the fallen officers out. They both died at the local trauma center, however. The U.S. Marshall who was shot twice will survive.

(Chris O'Meara/Associated Press)

Two elementary schools and one middle school were on lock down. On my way out down the block I passed the middle school. A ghost town. Far too quiet for buildings housing tweens. It was an eerie feeling as I drove past. A parents worse nightmare.

Too fresh coming on the heels of the fatal shooting of two Miami police officers one of whom was a single mom with a teenager and 23 years as an officer under her belt. 23 years! It's not like she didn't know what she was doing. 23 years!

Everyone loses in this situation. The police officers and their families. The neighbors. The children in lock down. The gunman's brother who is a decent man who has done good for this community. And the wife of the gunman who feared for her life constantly. The restraining order and warrant for this violent, career criminal and registered sex offender's arrest issued November 1st not enforced until this morning. Her sister said she would come home from work and he would be there. Now her house...the house she owned...looks like this...


I pick up The Boy from school. I get The Baby off the bus. The phone rings. It's The Boy's school.

"Are you missing a wheel chair?" uh oh...

Seems I drove off and left it behind the van. Too much sadness in one day for this old woman, apparently. I was just thankful to hug my kids at the end of this awful day Monday. I'm also very thankful I didn't back over the wheelchair.

Reading about situations like this is one thing. Seeing it up close and personal another. It reminds us of how fragile our lives are.

Something no one wants to dwell on.

Fake Blueberries?

photo Google Images

Exactly why was I shocked when I watched the video below? I'm not sure. I should know better.

Blueberries faked in cereals, muffins, bagels and other food products - Food Investigations - NaturalNews.tv

Do yourself a favor and watch this. Like a friend of mine says over and over, "Even when you think you are eating healthy you really aren't."

Grow your own food, people. Grow your own!

Why I Love Legos:

Because The Boy loves them.

Why I hate Legos:

Because it's 4:00 am when I am up for the 3rd time to pee and suddenly I'm screaming, "OW! OW! OW! What the *&%#@ did I just step on?" Yes. I used a bad word.

Why does The Boy have all of these new Legos?

It's his 11th birthday!

I spent my life's savings for a giant cookie from Publix for his school party yesterday earlier in the day. Thus, the sparsely decorated Haagen-Dazs bar later that night. I recognize from looking at the above photo that some things never change from year to year. Like that look...



And the fact that we will be attending yet another Monster Jam for his never ending birthday celebration. The Artist is even coming down for the occasion and The Boy and I are going to embarrass The Artist by dressing in head to toe cammo for the birthday event. The Genius even crocheted The Boy a cammo scarf and got us pit passes. If you have to ask what a pit pass is you probably would not want to attend Monster Jam.

I'm still waiting for my cammo scarf. hint

And yes. This also means you will be enduring photos like this one:

2008

And this one:

2010

Lucky for you I can't find 2009.

Go Gravedigger!

Resurrection

Months ago I was riding down the street and heard this song on the radio. I was totally blown away, pulled off to the side of the road and wrote the singers name down on the back of my check book cover. Later I went off in search of the song and the artist.

Zilch.

I heard it again recently and this time tracked it down on You Tube.

For some reason after reading Elizabeth's post I thought of it again.

News From The Pepper Family Art World.

Blue Heron by The Boy

So for all of you who remember this...

...I'm happy to report that The Artist did win first place in the Pet Category of the photo contest. Besides the joy of being numero uno she won a sweet digital camera.

On Sunday we attended a ceremony where the boy received a certificate for being chosen to have his Blue Heron displayed after his art teacher entered it in our county school system's contest. He and one other boy were chosen from his school.

Check out the tie!

Proud of both of them?


Uh, yeah!

The Artist and The Boy. Birds of a feather.

I'm getting pretty good at photo shopping my wrinkles out, too. Perhaps I should enter a contest.

Good Lovin' Reunion Style

"Six degrees of separation "refers to the idea that everyone is on average approximately six steps away from any other person on Earth, so that a chain of, "a friend of a friend" statements can be made, on average, to connect any two people in six steps or fewer.

Last night was a perfect example of the theory becoming reality.

When I graduated from high school in 1970 so many of us lost touch. Vietnam robbed us of good friends and many, with high school diploma in one hand and thumb extended on the other hand hitchhiked to California or took off in their VW campers. So many never looked back.

Thanks to Facebook I've been able to reconnect with many of those that were lost four decades ago. Sweet Tina , who I experienced Jimi Hendrix with as a teen, flew in to our area at 2 am from California yesterday and threw together a reunion party by 6:00 pm. With the help of her hubby, an amazing cook, she put on a beautiful spread. Tina goes down in my history book as being (always) one of the most gracious people I know.

Tina suggested I invite. Haggie Maggie even though she had never met Haggie but she knew there would a person at the get together who did. As it turns out this is where the six degrees of separation manifests itself in all of it's glory. Case in point...

In walks RED. Haggie had just been lamenting earlier in the week that her friend RED was in town playing at a local establishment and she was so sorry she had missed him. RED was her best friend in GRAMMAR SCHOOL. I take one look at RED and realize I am face to face with the red-headed freckle faced love of my life who I "DATED" in 9th grade. He was just learning how to play the guitar and was an accomplished surfer.

Tina knew Red as her "FIRST GUITAR TEACHER."

Red in turn introduced me to his wife as "MY FIRST LOVE." Turns out she's also a nurse. We traded war stories for an hour. I absolutely loved her.

Enter The Prince.

I knew The Prince from the surf shop where I hung around with Red and my friend named Blondie. Blondie, (who was also at the get together) and I haven't seen each other since 1970. 40 years ago she tried to teach me how to surf. I was hopeless. In high school, I frequently drove Blondie home careful to deposit her to her front door by 4:00 pm so she could watch the Gothic soap opera, Dark Shadow's.

The Prince was friends with both Tina and Blondie. Ironically, Haggie Maggie attended FIRST GRADE with The Prince. Blondie and Haggie Maggie also realized they had undoubtedly bumped in to each other in the late 60's while standing in line waiting to gain admission to our local hot spot, The Electric Zoo where we saw:

Shockingly, Blondie had remembered that i was the president of the Young Rascals fan club in the late 60's and that I was madly, passionately in love with the lead singer, Felix Cavaliere as a starry eyed 14 year old.

Felix then

Halfway into the party Blondie's phone rang. It was Felix Cavaliere. At first I thought it was a joke until I saw Tennessee flashing on her phone. I knew that Felix and his wife settled in Memphis. Bonnie had e-mailed Felix earlier in the week and invited him to our reunion to surprise me. Honey, I was surprised.

Felix now

Felix and I chatted about old times when he and the Rascals appeared in Tampa. He remembered the concerts there. He informed me he would have attend the "reunion" if it had not been such short notice. It's probably just has well he called instead. I may have fainted. Before we hung up he invited Blondie, me and the gang to his upcoming performance in Naples in April. The Rascals will be playing with The Lovin' Spoonful.

I was going to end this blog post with Good Lovin' but it seems this song by the Lovin' Spoonful sums the night up more accurately. Thanks Blondie, Haggie and Tina for being such wonderful friends.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-hh-U7sScQg&feature=related

I think that may even be me in the front row with the blonde flip.

Technical Diffilculties

Bear with me while I experience technical difficulties with the blog. If you receive an invitation PLEASE reply to follow the blog. (Unless you don't want to !)

Let me know if you have problems.

Agent #5

The Teenager hiding.

A while back The Teenagers neurologist wanted me to take her to Genetics again. I'm thinking, what's the point but I dutifully obliged. They re-did her chromosome analysis figuring we are more sophisticated than we were 17 years ago with her first round of genetic testing. All tests were within normal limits at that time. About a month after we went to the lab I got a phone call. They wanted to see us again.

Seems the teenager has a very small interstitial gain in copy number within chromosome #5 band p15.2 detected with 12 clones from positions 13,846,857-14, 225,128 encompassing at least 0.38 Mb using the new 105,000 Clone Oligo array.

Impressed? Don't be. I copied it from the 4 page results report.

What did we gain from this appointment?

I learned that chromosomal deletions are worse that chromosomal gains.

I learned that anything measuring over 0.5 Mb's is always clinically significant. The Teenagers abnormality measured 0.38.

I learned as I sat there listening to this very bright geneticist and her hot equally intelligent resident that we have come a long way in testing but that we have no data base as of yet to determine if all of these new findings have any clinical significance and we probably won't for a long, long time.

The only disease associated with this particular #5 area is Ciliary Dyskinesia which usually manifests itself when an infant is born with the heart on the wrong side. (situs invertus) and is caused by an embryonic disruption not a gain like The Teenager has. This would not explain the substantial hypoplasia of her cerebellum, brain stem and proximal spinal cord. Or at least we don't think so at this point.

Iris/Virus who also attended the appointment made two astute observations.

"I just love a handsome scientist." (yes,that resident was smokin' hot)

:

"I think the extra chromosome piece might explain The Teenagers gift."

Ah, the gift. I hadn't even thought of that one.

For some time now The Teenager has moments of intuitiveness that the rest of us do not possess. Case in Point: Bed Bath and Beyond.

A few years ago The Teenager and I were in Bed Bath and Beyond or at least we were attempting to enter the store. The Teenager immediately put on the brakes and began screaming she was afraid. I was mortified as the cashiers were stationed at the entrance and all eyes were focused on us.

"I'm afraid. I'm afraid of this roof!"

My embarrassed coaxing only made it worse.

"Danger! Danger! This roof is not right! This roof is not finished! Danger!"

"DDDDDAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNGGGGER!"

The next day during a huge rainstorm the Bed Bath and Beyond roof collapsed on the cashiers. Fortunately, no one was killed. I wonder to this day how many of them remember the scene we caused the day before.

Two weeks after the incident a friend called me. "You know the roof wasn't finished. There was an article in the Times today stating it had never been inspected." I got goosebumps.

After a few of these incidents one is tempted at times to pick her brain...

"So sweetie...what's your take on the recent Arkansas bird kill?"

It simply doesn't work that way.

I believe we are composed of body, soul and spirit. As one friend pointed out, "there's obviously nothing wrong with her spirit man." She is most definitely in tune with a realm we mere mortals with no number 5 gains struggle to comprehend.

Until Genetics can come up with a better explanation I'll go with Iris theory. And I kind of like Iris's new nickname for The Teenager.

Agent # 5.

Vote For The Artist

The Artist made two New Years resolutions. 1.) To enter more photo contests 2.) To obtain a new camera for her photography endeavors.

The above photo is a finalist in a contest. The prize? A new camera!

The dog is my granddaugher, Abigail. When The Artist left the dance life in NYC for New Orleans after Katrina she lived in a tent doing disaster clean up and working a soup kitchen for the residents and rescue workers. She adopted Abby who was a displaced stray who hung around the camp.

The kitty, Mae Button, is a rescue who was in line to be euthanized because she weighed 4 ounces. I never knew it but animal shelters automatically put kittens under a certain weight down immediately since their survival rate is so slim. The Artist ended up with Mae Button and bottle fed her for months. She is Abby's best friend.

The photo on the web site contest is not downloading properly which makes me very upset because how can you vote for a photo that is half there? The Artist contacted the web sight who informed her it looked ok to them. Grrrrr!

I attempted to enlarge the widget above so you could see the entire photo which really doesn't do the photo justice. The original is gorgeous and Mae Button's little tongue is a crack-up. Anyway go here:

http://www.digitaltips.org/photocontest/

and cast your vote under Pets category for The Artist!

Happy New Year 2011

For the first time in years I slept threw the hoopla of the midnight ball drop. I didn't even hear the pots and pans and fire works that frequent our own redneck speckled neighborhood. The kids slept. The Dog. The Cat.

I never make New Years resolutions. This year I feel compelled to commit to a few things, however, so this year I will:

Cook more using free range and organic. I realize this eliminates everything from the grocery store...

And fast food establishments:

Therefore I will eat less.

Which is a good thing.

I will drink more water.

Even if I pee more.

Which I will.

Play more.

Sing More.

Garden more.

I will take life less seriously focusing on what's important not what is annoyingly consuming.

Pursue art.

Get my eyebrows waxed at our local Vietnamese establishment

I

Ignore the small stuff

Because it's always the small stuff that sucks the life out of you.

I imagine this will keep me busy in 2011 along with the job, the kids, the animals, cooking, cleaning....yawn.

Is it over yet?