Give Me Some of Them Cheese

My dad made it safely back home to CA yesterday. While he was here, we laughed over some of our funny family stories. This is only the tip of the iceberg, but I'll share some.
I have an uncle named Orville. His buddy was Ikey. They were misbehaving terribly and got my Grandmother so frustrated that she yelled, "Orkey and Iville! You better stop that!"
I have another uncle who has always been accident prone. He, my dad, and some other guys went hunting. They drew a target on a tree and decided to have a knife throwing contest. When my uncle took his turn, he missed the tree completely, and the knife stuck into the propane tank of the gas stove, rendering it useless. Cold Pork 'N Beans were not well tolerated.
That same uncle got out his BB gun to scare off the neighbor's cat because it kept coming into his yard. He was as bad a shot as he was a knife thrower. The BB went into the cat's ear and killed it instantly...just as the cat's owner came out and witnessed the whole thing.
I wasn't very close to my Grandpa Ollie because he was grouchy. He was a tall, Cherokee Indian who travelled from Oklahoma in Grape's of Wrath style to CA, always working hard to feed his fourteen children. My mother is one of those fourteen.
After reaching CA, Grandpa received a telegram that read:
Momma blowed away today.
He knew exactly what that meant. His mother had been killed by a tornado back in OK.
One time, Grandpa Ollie was putting up a mail box, and couldn't find his hammer. Convinced that one of the kids had taken it, he lined them all up and forced them to search for his hammer before they could do anything else. After spankings and lots of crying, Grandpa found the hammer INSIDE the mail box.
Grandpa Ollie wasn't affectionate and never told his kids he loved them. When he got old, my mom decided she'd make him say he loved her. At first, here's how it always went down: My mom would say, "Dad, I love you." Grandpa would say, "Same thang." When he got ill, he finally softened enough to actually say, "I love you" in return, but it wasn't easy for the gruff, old fella.
Grandpa Ollie lived with us for awhile after he got sick, before he went to the hospital for his final weeks. One time at dinner, there was a platter of various cheeses on the table. He said, "Give me some of them cheese."
At the hospital, he was having some difficulty breathing. He yelled, "There's no oxygen in this air! Does a feller gotta kill somebody to get a fan around here?"

Happy Birthday to the Boy

17 years ago today little Tater Tot made his grand entrance into our lives.
What a blessing he was and still is.
He's a great kid, and I LOVE him!


The fun continues:
My dad's flight home was cancelled due to hitonious weather. He is staying with us until Saturday.
YIPPEE times THREE!
We enjoyed the delicious apple oven pancake recipe that blog buddy Allison sent me:

We potted plants for my front and back porches:

Dad took my picture:

I took Dad's picture:

My blog time has been nearly nill these past several days. I'll get caught up with you as soon as I can.
We're off for a walk now.

It's Thursday Afternoon

Monday:
I was horrified beyond belief, and I still am.
The rest of my post is lighthearted humor, but I wanted to acknowledge the loss and honor the memory of those precious lives taken.

Tuesday:
College Algebra test grade - 94%... Applause please!
I shopped for groceries and other must have items:

I dashed off to the airport at 10:30 p.m.

Wednesday:
My dad had his gall bladder yanked out a week ago and decided to spend his remaining week of recovery with some hicks - that'd be us! Ain't that the eel's ankles?!
If you don't know what "the eel's ankles" means, it means the same thing as "the snake's hips" or the better known of the bunch, "the bee's knees."
They're all gooood.
Here's my dad:

My daughter's boyfriend came over for dinner. It was great because both my hubby and my dad gave him a good working over. Poor fellow didn't have a chance. After the initial interrogation, I called them all over to the table for dinner, or supper as they call it here in the sticks. Her boyfriend is a vegetarian, so I served very rare, bloody steak with bacon on the side.
(Not really, but I considered it.)

Thursday:
Spanish test today. ¿Entiendes?
Dad came to school with me.
It's Thursday afternoon, and I am taking a short time to blog while my dad is upstairs playing music with my son.

My dad will be here until Tuesday.

I won't post again until Wednesday.
I'll be using what little blog time I have over the next few days to visit YOU!!!

HUG your kids!!!!

We Interrupt JD's Blather to Get YOUR Opinion on THIS

Unless you've been under a rock, you've heard about radio shock jock Imus getting fired for making racially-sexist offensive comments.
Imus called a black women's college basketball team "hard core hos...nappy-headed hos," which is the kind of "humor" he's used for many years. I have a friend who has listened to Imus for many years, and he said this comment is not out of Imus's norm. For comedic entertainment, he puts down all ethnicities and religions. Many people think he's hilarious, which is why he's been on the air for decades.
If he didn't have an audience, he wouldn't have been on the air.
Do I think what he said and has said are good things to say? NO, so I don't listen to his show.
Imus has used offensive jokes and remarks about Jews, Mexicans, Arabs, Asians, Blacks, Whites, fat people, ugly people (takes one to know one in his case), gays, etc. For some reason, this particular comment was the straw that broke the camel's back.
Al Sharpton and Jesse Jackson (who themselves have used racially offensive language) have deemed themselves the speech police and refused to accept Imus's apology. They said Imus's two-week suspension was not enough punishment and made a commotion, demanding Imus be fired, which he eventually was.
Now, many are asking if rappers should have to stop using the vile language they use, or at least that it not be allowed to be played on the radio.
Some rappers claim that it is okay for THEM to call ladies "hos" in their songs because the ladies they are rapping about ARE hos. Okay, then...
Think about this:
This week it was announced that the three Duke guys accused of rape are completely innocent of those charges, which happend to be made by a black, stripper.
So, I'm wondering if Imus would have referred to the stripper as a "nappy-headed ho," if that comment would have caused as much outrage?
Based on the rappers' reasoning above, I guess the comment would have been okay.
Of course, I don't believe that comment would be okay in any context.
I am a believer in free speech though, and that means there's a lot said that I don't agree with. I use my vote to support those with whom I agree, and I use my radio dial to CHOOSE whom I want to listen to, I use my dollars to buy CDs and DVDs that I like. I realize there are limits to free speech under the law, but for the most part, people can say what's on their minds, and that's the way it SHOULD be.
The bottom line is:
It is "We the People" who DECIDE whom we listen to.
There's a lot of garbage out there, and we have the choice to put it into our minds or not. If enough people like something, then it will be successful. If only a few like it, then it will fail. That's the free market, baby!
I'd like to know what you think.

It's Game Time!

This one is so easy a caveman could do it.

Write four sentences that you could NEVER imagine hearing yourself saying.

Here are mine:

Four sentences I could NEVER hear myself saying:

1. There's not enough meat on my butt.
2. My boobs are too big and heavy... and unusually perky for their size.
3. I'm not in the mood for chocolate.
4. Go ahead and spill grape juice on my couch, and while you're at it, spread mud all over my kitchen counters.

Now, it's YOUR turn.
Have fun with this over the next few days.
Play as often as you want.

I Do Not Apologize For This Longer Than Usual Post About My Easter Weekend

Friday started with the neighbor's horse getting out AGAIN (a nearly daily occurence). We don't mind it at all because we haven't done any landscaping yet. The owner of the horse just happens to be a POliceman, ('round here they put a strong emphasis on that first syllable), so that horse pretty much grazes with impunity around the neighborhood. Even neighbors whose plants are regularly nibbled on haven't complained to the POliceman because in these here parts, the POlice are known to shoot first, cover it up, and move on.

Friday night, my daughter had a film club party at our house. The local club, made up mostly of tobacco-addicted, beer-guzzling, college-aged hicks, shares an $18,000 movie camera plus a bunch of other expensive professional equipment. Even hicks know how to say, "Action!" and "Cut!" but judging from what I saw and heard, hicks are lousy actors. They're sometimes hard to understand too, also, in addition, as well. My daughter shot scenes for the movie she's making which required a party scene.

It was fun, especially when she set up a dance scene in our kitchen. My son was thrilled to be surrounded by college-aged girls for the scene, in which he was cast as the lone male dancer. He's also thrilled because the movie features his original music.

We didn't get to bed until 2:30 a.m.
Saturday was low-key except for this:

It was fake because my son knows that his momma would beat him to death if it wasn't.
There are a few tattoo businesses in town, and they are all thriving. Should my son happen to get a permanent tattoo from one of these fine establishments, their shop will burn to the ground under mysterious circumstances, and the person who permanently etched my son's tender skin will be ground up into little pieces, mixed in with some grain, and fed to the POliceman's horse.
By Sunday, I had eaten approximately four pounds of chocolate. It was Easter, but hubby was out of town, so our egg decorating didn't have as much gusto as usual.
Here are this year's Easter eggs:


They pale in comparison to last year's masterpieces:

Did you make it through my longer-than-usual post for which I offer no apology?

TWO Years!!!

It's my Second Blogiversary!
Hooray for me! Have a truffle.

I used to be a really silly person. This is a photo of me my sophmore year of college. Look at that goofy grin. I was such a character. You should have known me back THEN.

This next photo is proof that I've matured a great deal since those wild, youthful days of unbridled frivolity. I forced myself to settle down and become a responsible parent. My kids deserve a role model they can respect.

This marvelous thing called blogging has given me a connection to fellow blog buddies that I would never have had the pleasure of meeting in NORMAL life.
I wouldn't have known you existed at all.
Can you IMAGINE your life without Jamie Dawn's Mindless Blather?!?
I will continue blogging until I run out of things to say.
After two years of blogging, I have just one main thing to say:
It's GOOD to know you!

MTV Cribs with Lambchop

Courtney and Taylor, my teenagers, and Lambchop, my adopted kid, made this video while at their Nana's house.
They BEGGED me to post it here so YOU could see it.
As some of you already know, we rescued Lammy from the streets awhile back when we found him holding a sign that read, "Will Work For Feed." He is part of the family now. Lambchop is a HE, not a SHE. Lammy is gender confused sometimes because Shari Lewis forced him to be a girl, but we love him whether he's wearing a pink tutu or a tuxedo.
Courtney, Taylor, and Lambchop are eagerly awaiting your comments here.
I am too, also, in addition, as well.
My favorite part of this video is the end where Lammy is running on the treadmill. Yes, RUNNING!
DAZZLING special effects!