A Month of Madness

Looking at the date of my last blog entry, I realize that it has been nearly a month since The Appalachian Witch last made an appearance. I would like to pretend it is because I've been relaxing in a nice spa somewhere or that I've been involved in deep meditation at a remote monastery, listening to the harmonious Gregorian chant of the resident monks, and now I'm back with a refreshed spirit, ready to face the challenges of everyday life with a calm but energetic demeanor.

The truth is, however, I'm barely keeping the men in the White Jackets at bay.

Okay, it's really not that bad. I've had some truly LAZY moments in between running around like a mad woman. Moscato and books have been my good friends. What types of books? They vary between mindless entertainment and historical research. Vampires...the Black Death...werewolves...medical history...the subjects don't necessarily go together, although now that I think about it, it MIGHT be rather entertaining.

Parenting Stuff from the Witch and the Czech Pecker: The only thing to add this evening is that they get WAAAAAAAY too excited when Granddaddy is coming to visit. He will be here tomorrow afternoon for several events happening this week--Grandparents' Day at St. Joseph's on Wednesday through J.P.'s birthday on Saturday--and they are bouncing off the walls this evening. I believe the Czech Pecker is about to lose either his Czech or his Pecker. I'm afraid to ask which.

To make up for the human kids' insanity, the Huskies are eerily silent this evening. I worry when they are this quiet. It makes me wonder what they are planning. I fully expect to find a hole to Siberia tomorrow morning to match the one they've already dug in their attempt to dig to Alaska.

We Have Not Seen the Last of That Skeleton

The skeleton that was hiding out in Rebekah's locker? Antoine? Well, he's making himself quite at home around the Lazurek Funny Farm these days. You never know where that bony bozo will pop up. Right now, he is clad in a martial arts outfit, providing inspiration for a short story that Rebekah is writing for her Literature class in school. She is calling it, "The Haunted Karate Bus," and Antoine makes a cameo appearance at the end as the driver of the bus. She finished the rough draft of the story, and the final is due this Friday. I wonder if her teacher will think she is warped?

Parenting Stuff from the Witch and the Czech Pecker: Some things I find myself asking as a mother:

What is a package of googly eyes doing in this corner of the room?
Why is there a Pokemon figure on top of the mailbox?
Speaking of the mailbox, is there any reason WHY it was taken off the post and turned around backwards so that it opened toward the house instead of the road? (I'm sure our mail woman LOVED us for that one)
And whose handprint in purple paint is on the mailbox door?
How did silly string end up on the ceiling? (stupid question, that)
Who do you think you are, Bo and Luke Duke? And my truck is the General Lee?
Why does the dog/cat have blue/pink/green paint on him?
Is there any reason WHY there are several naked Barbies hanging from the tree in the front yard?
Why is there a stool, a drill, a pair of leopard print tights, a roll of paper towels, and a tube of toothpaste on the front walkway?
What made me think that I need to get knocked up to be a "fulfilled" woman, anyway? Was I temporarily insane? (this to the Czech Pecker, not to the spawns of Satan)

On a positive note, it's never boring around here, and the spawns have inherited my artistic abilities. J.P. and I spent the weekend painting together, and Rebekah and I are starting to have some intelligent conversations about history, books, and theology. I still have to ask myself the off-the-wall questions in between these idylls of peacefulness, though. The way I see it, when I'm old and gray, it will give me something to look back on and laugh about. And hey, if these two imps ever have little demons of their own, will I EVER have some stories to tell them about their parents!

My daughter has a skeleton in her closet!

Well, the skeleton is not in her closet. He was in her locker at school for a day. Now, she takes him around with her places. His name is Antoine, and he is her BFF.

Antoine came into Rebekah's life several days ago when she bought him for a skit that she and some other girls did for their History class at school. Evidently, Antoine's role was that of either a Neanderthal or Cro-Magnon who had died from a club wound to the back of the head, and they were archaeologists discovering him. He had been buried with jewelry and flowers. Rebekah informed me that their skit, especially Antoine's role, was a big hit. Incidentally, Rebekah came up with his name from a "Drake & Josh" episode.

After his starring role, Antoine has retired to the Lazurek Funny Farm where he dresses in pajamas at bedtime, and his favorite daytime wear is one of J.P.'s hoodies. A couple of evenings ago, I discovered Antoine on the sofa reading Rebekah's Ignatius Study Bible. The darling Czech Pecker made a comment about the jaw of an ass.

J.P. is now wanting to get a twin for Antoine. Who knows what might happen around here when the twin shows up?

Parenting Tip of the Day from the Witch and the Czech Pecker: When the kids want to drag out the skeletons in the closet, let them have a little fun with them!

Those Crazy Hurricanes

It looks like New Orleans and the Gulf coast didn't get slammed quite as bad as feared by Gustav, and that is a good thing, although a lot of people are returning to the area without power. Still, it could have been so much worse. Now, we're looking at our own coastline here in the Carolinas at Hanna. We're all laughing here because my niece's name is Hannah, and she is QUITE the character! It is appropriate that a tropical storm/hurricane is named after her.

And speaking of hurricanes in Charleston, it takes me back to good ol' Hugo back in 1989. That is when the darling Czech Pecker and I started our love story. *snort* I can't say that with a straight face. We were students at the College of Charleston and got kicked out of the dorms when they saw this big-ass hurricane heading straight for us. About a week after the hurricane, we returned to campus to resume the semester, complete with a curfew starting at dusk--we could go to the library, but anything else out in the city was taboo, and quite frankly, with all those National Guard guys with their big guns trained on anything that moved, I was more than willing to stay put.

So, there we were, my friend and roommate at the time, Annette, walking across campus, trying not to trip over fallen tree limbs laden with Spanish moss, and I was musing on the idea that it might be good thing to become a nun. About that time, we saw somebody we knew across the street heading to his dorm room--the darling Czech Pecker! Except I didn't call him that back then. We weren't even dating yet. I immediately dropped the idea of becoming a nun, and we called out. We walked with him to his room, where he tried in vain to open his door that had become stuck due to humidity swelling the wood. It took him a good 15 minutes or more of shoving, and I stood there not helping at all, snorting with laughter.

It is now 19 years later, we've been married over 17 years of that, and not much has changed in some respects. I still have some moments when I think becoming a nun might have been a good idea, after all, but then I realize I wasn't really cut out for it. And I still stand back and laugh when he tries to do things in vain instead of being useful. I'm really good at that.

Parenting Tip of the Day from the Witch and the Czech Pecker: There comes a time in the parenthood of every mom and dad when those little darling spawns of Satan drive you crazier than a shit house rat. Don't deny it. You know it's true. And if you're really honest with yourself, you will admit that you might have thought about selling those precious treasures to the first band of traveling gypsies that come through your neighborhood. Since we rarely see such bands in the United States in this day and age, it can provide a dilemma for the exasperated parent.

I have thought of trying to find somebody who might be willing to barter with me. I am especially interested in trading for Siberian Huskies. Oh sure, they can be like children, too, and certainly get into their share of mischief. You should see my back yard presently due to the antics of my pack. It looks like a war zone. However, my Huskies never complain, they appreciate everything that I give them, and I don't have to pay tuition for them.

Any takers?

Gustav, Hanna, tropical weather, oh my!

I'm sitting here right now, as I'm sure much of the country is, watching the weather reports to see exactly where Hurricane Gustav is going to land tomorrow. New Orleans is evacuating as I write this, obviously loathe to repeat the tragedy of Katrina three years ago, and I am saying my prayers for the people on the Gulf coast, including sending up extra prayers for my friends, the Graebers, who live in Baton Rouge.

And out there in Atlantic, another tropical storm, Hanna, is churning away, and right now, they say it's possible that some of the winds from Gustav could come back and add strength to it. It's projected path, as of right now, is anywhere from the Florida east coast on up to Georgia or the Carolinas.

And there are people who say that global warming is not a problem?

In other news, closer to home, we're starting to settle into a routine with school. Well, as much of a routine as it's possible for us, the Lazurek Funny Farm, epitome of Unconventional Behavior, who put the "fun" in dysfunctional! J.P. jumped right into 3rd grade with no problem and has a new best buddy who is new to the school this year. The two of them are inseparable. Rebekah had to adjust to the changing of classes and the bell schedule in middle school, but that took all of about two days. I'm seeing a marked change in her when I pick her up in the afternoons. She talks about what is happening in school, what this teacher said and that teacher did that day, and the biggest miracle of all...she doesn't resist doing her homework quite as vigorously as she did last year! So far, she is showing an increased excitement about learning, and to a Super Nerd like me, that is the best thing I could hope for! She's also making new friends, and that is also something that I had been hoping that she would do right away.

Parenting Tip of the Day from the Witch and the Czech Pecker: We've talked about the many areas where the boundaries are fluid with us; however, there ARE some areas where we remain firm, and the boundaries we set are akin to a brick wall.

An example would be clothing. My commandment, regarding how my female spawn of Satan dresses, is, "Thou Shalt Not Dress Like a Hoochie Mama." Seriously. Some of the styles that are out there for girls her age are unbelievable. Now, I would certainly never want her to dress like a member of that Texas polygamy sect, either. That's just messed up. However, I once went to the mall and saw a couple of girls who couldn't have been older than 13 or 14 who had on more revealing clothing than the prostitutes that I saw on Bourbon Street the previous week. I sat there in the food court with my kids and thought to myself, "those mothers need to be slapped for letting them out of the house like that." Of course, it's always possible that the kids somehow snuck around the parental units in some way. Kids can be sneaky little jerks. Somebody had to drive them to the mall in the first place, though.

Another example is cutting school. Like most kids, there are times when they, "just don't FEEEEEEEL like going." Maybe they stayed up too late the previous evening watching something on television. Or they're feeling nervous about a test. Or they're just being plain lazy. Um, no. They are allowed so many absences per year, and they need those in case something comes up, such as...oh, I don't know...they really get sick and have to miss several days, maybe? Sorry. Laziness doesn't count as an illness. Goofing off doesn't count as an excused absence. Sorry, little spawns of Satan. Your mama is tough on this one.

There are other areas, but I threw in those examples to show that, while we are quite unconventional and seem to allow our kids a lot of freedoms in many areas, we still have our areas where we stand firm and say, "um, no, absolutely, positively no." Hey, we have to give them SOMETHING to hate us over from time to time, don't we?

The Witch Has Returned

And school is in session! And there was much rejoicing. Yay!

When last the Witch left you, we were discussing the lady with the cloned puppies. What a loony. A couple of days later, the spawns of Satan left for Charleston with my mom, grandmother, sister, and niece. They spent a few days with them, then I drove down in my B.A.T. mobile. The kids and I then spent time with the darling Czech Pecker's dad who lives there. We browsed the Market, did a little shopping, and visited the Aquarium. On that Friday, the darling Czech Pecker himself joined us after work for the rest of the weekend.

THEN, it was back home to get ready for school. J.P. started on Monday, and he's already made some new friends. He also said that the priest talked to them about training to become altar boys, something he very much wants to do. I told him he might want to start watching his language. We'll see if it works.

Rebekah started her middle school career on Wednesday at a new school, St. Joseph's. The new routine is a bit overwhelming for her and will take some adjusting, but she is excited about her classes and her teachers. I think she will do well.

Parenting Tip of the Day from the Witch and the Czech: Homework...yes, you have to do it, and not at 10:00 at night. End of story. Yes, I will help and give you guidance. No, I won't do it FOR you. You don't learn a blasted thing that way. Yes, I do expect you to do your best work possible. No, I don't expect straight A's. Don't kill yourself and try to be such a perfectionist that you make yourself ill. Don't be a slackass, either. There IS a happy medium. Trust me. It's all a learning process, and learning can be fun. I'm nearly 40, and I'm still learning and having fun doing so.

The Saga of the Dog Cloning Woman Continues...

They say that fact is often stranger than fiction, and this certainly is a story where that is the case. The cloned puppies don't even figure into it, unless you consider the fact that somebody who would clone Booger must be a little off in the head. Incidentally, my favorite line in that article is the last one, '"She's ugly as sin now," he said. "But, sure enough, that's her."'

Okay, speaking of dogs, there is a program on television about pet-friendly cities, and they are talking about New York City now. The darling Czech Pecker said, "I guess you were right when you said that New York was dog friendly!" Well, OF COURSE, I was right. I possess mad observation skills, and I always notice dogs and their people everywhere I go. New York impressed me.

Today's Parenting Tips from the Witch and the Darling Czech Pecker: I want to add a clarification to something I wrote a few days ago about the language thing. There ARE limits to what the darling Czech Pecker and I will allow. For example, there is a difference between a mere curse word and a word with derogatory meaning toward one's ethnic, racial, sexual, etc. background. If they want to call each other dumbass, then fine, but we don't want to hear words that have a deeper mean meaning, like "retarded" or "fag." So, yes, our boundaries with them are fluid, as I mentioned earlier, but boundaries we do have, and at times, the spawns of Satan will bounce up against them. The darling Czech Pecker and I may be rather unconventional and somewhat liberal in our child-rearing practices compared to some other parents, but we do have our limits, too, and we stand firm when the spawns try to test those limits. And then we hit the liquor cabinet for fortification afterward!

The Dog Clones

I just read an article that strikes me as so wrong on so many levels that I just don't know where to start. It seems that there is a company in South Korea that is touting itself as the first successful canine cloning service, and their first success is a litter of Booger's puppies. Okay, after I got over my inner 12-year-old snickering over sentences in that article like, "Booger is back" and "...when she saw the cloned Boogers...," I started thinking about the ways in which this struck me as wrong, and without going into a detailed theological, moral, and ethical discussion here, my main thoughts were, not necessarily in this order:

1--Isn't this a bit like playing God?
2--Even if one is not prone to religious belief, there is still the question of whether the cloned animal is identical to the original. Sure, its DNA is identical, but what about the dog's spirit? There is no way to clone that. If I decided to clone Dougal or Sitka, I might end up with puppies that LOOK identical to Dougal and Sitka, but they wouldn't really BE Dougal and Sitka. They would not possess the same spirit and soul as Dougal and Sitka.
3--It's just messing with the natural order of things. I still miss my dear pets who have passed on, but cloning them would not bring them back. See #2.
4--What would St. Francis of Assisi say?
5--The woman paid $50,000 to clone Booger. Think of how much GOOD that money could have done, in Booger's memory, to any number of shelters. Booger was a Pit bull. She could have rescued a Pit bull or three, and given the money to Pit bull rescue.

Well, I suppose it's her money to dispose of however she wishes, but it strikes me as so delusional. And I thought I was bad over my pets!

Today's Parenting Tip from the Mountain Witch and Her Darling Czech Pecker: Well, since I'm on the subject of animals, I suppose I'll go in that direction. I think a lot of people will agree with me that kids and pets just belong together. Sometimes, I'll hear stories of major asshattery from friends and acquaintances who work or have worked in cat and dog rescue of people who are ready to turn that beloved and loyal furry companion in to a shelter as soon as the EPT test comes back with two lines indicating that a human baby will be joining the family. Suddenly, Kitty or Fido are no longer considered important members of the family. In my opinion, this is a heinous way to act and lowers one's human dignity. While I understand that circumstances may arise once the baby is here that necessitate finding a new GOOD home for Kitty or Fido, such as discovering the baby has severe allergies, merely finding out that one is knocked up is not good enough. Kitty and Fido can be prepared for the new addition, and they often make superb older "siblings." When I found out I was expecting my oldest spawn of Satan, Rebekah, and I started to show, my cat, Boo Kitty, who had always slept at the foot of our bed, suddenly started sleeping curled up next to my abdomen. He seemed to sense what was happening. He was fascinated with Rebekah once she arrived, and he loved to spend time with her...until she opened her mouth to wail. Then he would take off like a bat out of hell to hide under the bed or in a closet. Many were the days that I desired to join him.

At any rate, my mom now raises Siberian Huskies, and I have several of the snow dogs myself. My snow dogs are all spayed and neutered, but my mom breeds hers. They are not cloned, either! As you might imagine, life becomes quite lively at her house, especially around whelping time or when any of the females go into heat. And THIS is what brings up my main topic for today...what my kids, now 11 and nearly 9, have witnessed. I know a few folks who are very strict and think it would be "inappropriate" and "gross" to allow their precious darlings to witness a female dog giving birth. It brings up any number of questions, don't you know. However, my children have asked to be present, and yes, I have allowed it. And you know what? Not only are they not scarred from the experience, they have benefitted from helping out in numerous ways, by running errands for my mom, by getting fresh water for the laboring mom, and if a newborn puppy crawls too far away from its mama, by helping it get closer to its food source. Husky moms are very gentle, and they know us well, so they allow us to handle their pups, even from the beginning. The kids know how to handle the newborn pups as well as we adults do.

This has been a learning experience for the children, a chance to witness furry little miracles, to see the not-so-clean-and-pretty beginning and to appreciate the instincts and innate intelligence of the dogs we raise and love so very well. It adds another dimension to the kids' appreciation for the Huskies.

And as for the mating part, have they witnessed that? Well, yes, but it wasn't intentional. It's not like we said, "Hey kids! Let's go watch Prancer and Maya get it on!" Dogs, as we know, are not so particular about where they do the nasty. It's not as if they plan it out, deciding to rent a hotel room or anything. The male senses the female in heat, the female swishes her tale to lure the male to her, and then...well, you can guess the rest. Two of my mom's dogs, Prancer and Tasha, seem to have the exhibitionist streak in them. They will wait until they are OUTSIDE of the kennel, in the main yard, go down by the fence next to the road, then hook up, where anyone driving by can see them. So, as you can imagine, the kids have seen it. The first time J.P. saw this, he couldn't stop laughing, he said it looked so funny.

I agree. It IS rather funny business. And while I didn't add this thought to him, it's really quite a funny business for humans, too, when you stop and think about it!

I'm a Loser!

And that makes me very happy. Why, you ask? Because I have lost two dress sizes since the beginning of the summer! At this rate, I WILL make my goal of reaching my pre-pregnancy size before my 40th birthday in December! Two more sizes to go...Yippeeeee! And that has been without regular exercise. Since Summer and I don't get along, I tend to skip the exercise routine during the hot season and pick up again in Fall. I'm buying some new running shoes this weekend and will soon start running with my Huskies and working on my muscle tone. I will be hitting my 40s as a Fabulous Fruitcake rather than a fat one!

Parenting Tip of the Day from the Witch and the Darling Czech Pecker: Let's talk about language, and I'm not talking about English, Spanish, French, Russian...yes, we're talking about *whisper* cussing. Okay, I know that the darling Czech Pecker and I have a tendency to let fly with some colorful language at times. Now, I'm not going to say that it's right or wrong, it just IS. As a result, as you might imagine, the Spawns of Satan have picked up a phrase or two along the way. At first, we worked mightily to discourage it, and then it hit us...wow, how hypocritical to tell them not to say it when we still said things like, "what a dumbass!" (that's the darling Czech Pecker in traffic) or "well, shit fire and save the matches!" (that's me at just about anything). So, the logical thing was for us to try not to say such things, and that worked to a certain extent, but only so much.

I know what most people would say. The darling Czech Pecker and I are ADULTS and the Spawn are CHILDREN. I know, I know. But we are, after all, a most unconventional family, as most people have by now realized. And our Spawn, for all their faults--and they are many--know one thing: what they say and do at home does not necessarily transfer to what they say and do out in public and at school. So while I receive excellent reports from their teachers, and I've had people in restaurants commend me on my well-behaved children, The Lazurek Funny Farm at home often sounds like an episode of The Osbournes. Okay, maybe not THAT bad because we aren't as fond of the "f" bomb as they are. Our favorites tend to be "dumbass," "asswipe," "bunghole," "ass monkey," "bitch fit,"...okay, you get the picture.

One day in school in 1st grade, J.P. DID tell his teacher, during a discussion of the Ten Commandments, that his sister calls him "shit head" when she's mad at him and that he believes there is a commandment against that. His teacher had to turn her back to keep from bursting out laughing. And no, there is not a commandment against calling your brother a shit head when you're angry at him. I looked it up. In fact, there seems to be nothing in the Scriptures against cussing, so it's solely a social thing. I don't thing we're doomed to Hades or anything. At least for that...

The Countdown Begins...

Wow, it has crept up on me, but it is nearly time for school to start. Can we all say YAY?! Three weeks from today, J.P. returns to school, starting the 3rd grade, and 3 weeks from Wednesday, Rebekah will begin her middle school career. We did our school supply shopping this past weekend. We are now set with uniforms, books, and school supplies. Now, if only the weather would realize that we are moving closer to Fall and start to cool down.

Let me tell you, school cannot start too soon for me. J.P. is trying to turn the living room into a combination tool room/storage room for God-knows-what. He also just got a stuffed parrot that repeats what you say in a high pitched voice, almost like it has sucked a helium balloon. He delights in holding this thing up to everyone and the TV so it can repeat things. Oh, and he named the parrot Turd. He carries Turd everywhere so Turd can speak. Turd is about to drive me insane. Earlier today, I threatened to kick Turd's ass. Turd squawked back at me, in a perfect, high-pitched Kentucky accent, "I'm gonna kick yer ass! I'm gonna kick yer ass!"

PARENTING TIP OF THE DAY FROM THE WITCH AND THE DARLING CZECH PECKER: Sometimes, survival as a parent depends on a well-stocked wine bar and liquor cabinet.

Is Summer Over Yet?

We are inching ever closer to the start of the school year, and I am anxiously crossing the days of summer off my calendar. Have I mentioned that I hate hot weather?

For the most part, our summer treks are over, and I'm working on The List. The List is that endless stuff to buy, uniforms to go through and see what needs to be replaced, school supply lists to purchase, things to organize in the house to make homework sessions as easy and painless as possible...

I really would love to just spend the remainder of the summer in hibernation, but ALAS! That is not to be.

This evening, we have a meeting at St. Joseph's for student athletes, so I suppose the fall is approaching. If only the weather would cooperate!

PARENTING TIP OF THE DAY FROM THE WITCH AND THE DARLING CZECH PECKER: I will start my parenting "tips" with this bit that really forms the foundation of everything else that the darling Czech Pecker and I do to put the "fun" in our dysfunctional family unit! Boundaries. We all know about boundaries, especially those of us who are parents. Setting boundaries sounds easier than it actually is, and if you've ever tried reasoning with a stubborn spawn of Satan, then you know exactly what I'm talking about.

Have you ever heard the phrase, "pick your battles" when it comes to parenting? Well, we learned about that pretty early in dealing with the bratlets. As a result, we've developed a philosophy of fluid boundaries. Basically, the boundaries we've set are firm when it comes to issues of safety and health. No, we won't let them play in traffic, no matter how much they might beg. However, other issues are up for negotiation. That doesn't necessarily mean that they will get their way in everything. Compromise is a big word in our household. Needless to say, there is generally a good deal of lively conversation and bargaining going on, but hey...it makes things interesting!

A Tale of our Trip, in Pictures

So, our trip started out in Connecticut, where we attended a family reunion, as I mentioned earlier. That Saturday evening, we went out to a restaurant in West Haven called Jimmies. It's right on Long Island Sound, and after dinner, we out on the beach area where the kids enjoyed collecting shells and playing around. Incidentally, we did not suddenly gain a third child. Taylor is my cousin from Kentucky who happily joined us on our trip. She and Rebekah are the same age. We were thrilled to have her along, and I hope the Lazurek Funny Farm didn't frighten her too much!

Taylor and Rebekah pose on the beach. Rebekah looks kind of drunk, I know, but I promise that I've not been allowing underage drinking. She just looks that way a lot of the time! I blame it on pre-teen girlie-girl temporary loss of practical brain cells.

The darling Czech Pecker walking out on the jetty with J.P. and Taylor.

The same jetty. The darling Czech Pecker, J.P., Taylor, and Rebekah walking out. You can see the darling Czech Pecker's grey hair in this picture. He likes to blame it on me, but I think it's all that Eastern European Existentialism getting to him.

Sunday arrived, and it was time to go into the City. We took the train from Stratford, CT.

J.P., Taylor, and Rebekah at the train station in Stratford. I can't remember exactly WHY J.P. had an attitude at the time, but really, does he have to have a reason?

Taylor and Rebekah on the train. Notice that Rebekah STILL has the drunk look on her face!

Grand Central Station! Taylor, Rebekah, Bob (Granddaddy to the kids!), and J.P. This photo was actually taken at the END of the day...note that the girls already have their American Girl dolls. We can explain Rebekah's drunk look that way, then. Not on the dolls...on the fact that it was the end of the day.

Taylor, Rebekah, and J.P. at Grand Central Station.

Of course, if you are a pre-teen girl, no trip to New York is complete without spending an inordinate amount of time in American Girl and then having lunch in the Cafe there. Rebekah decided that she wanted a plethora of American Girl stuff for her birthday from us, so we headed straight for there.

In these photos taken in the American Girl Cafe, you will note Taylor with her new doll, Ruthie, and Rebekah with her new dolls, Kaya and Julie. Yes, Rebekah DOES look drunk! However, I am the one who had a Bellini to drink because after two hours of traipsing up and down three stories of a crowded store, I desperately needed either that or a Xanax. J.P. shows what he really thinks of the whole thing, but being a boy, he finds ways to amuse himself.

Our next stop was St. Patrick's Cathedral. This was more up J.P.'s alley since he is John PATRICK, and St. Patrick is one of his patron saints.

Above, an outside view of St. Pat's; the girls dress their American Girl dolls on the steps outside of St. Pat's--in the background, J.P. is showing something to the darling Czech Pecker; inside of St. Pat's, J.P., Rebekah, and Taylor.

On Monday, we cruised through Central Park, checking out the sights there. I was on a quest for the statue of Balto!

And I found him!

Dedication to the sled dogs who ran the medicine to Nome

Taylor, J.P., and Rebekah pose with Balto

J.P., Taylor, and Rebekah posing in front of the statue of another of my heroes, Shakespeare! None of them were thrilled or impressed.

A red tail hawk with its prey, a squirrel, in Central Park

We also had to go to the top of the Empire State Building and see what kind of view we could get from there.

The New York skyline from the top of the Empire State Building.

The United Nations Building. It's the silvery rectangular building in the center, on this side of the river.

A hazy, fuzzy view of the Statue of Liberty

A pigeon perching just a few inches from me!

And there you go, a short photo diary of our short visit to New York. I wish I had taken some more pictures, but we were so busy trying to keep up with the kids and herd them through the streets. I felt kind of like a cattle wrangler or something! We also ended up not having time to go out to Ellis Island as we had originally planned and hoped to do. I would like for the kids to do that because the darling Czech Pecker's great-grandparents came through there. It would be interesting for them to see, and that background is so different from my own, where my family has been here for many thousands of years, some of them, and others for over 300 years. Maybe on a future trip...

New Yorkers and Their Dogs

One thing that impressed me about New York and more specifically, New Yorkers, was their attitude toward their dogs. I mean, there are people walking their dogs everywhere there. All sorts of dogs. Big dogs, little dogs, purebred dogs, mixed breed dogs, dogs in purses, dogs on leashes...I'm starting to sound like a Dr. Seuss book now. Seriously, though, in a lot of the larger cities I've visited, dogs are popular to a certain extent, but a lot of people who are apartment dwellers tend to either have no pets, cats, or small dogs.

And they go into stores with their dogs, and it's quite okay! Now THAT is what I liked. Being a dog lover, it was quite okay to brush up against a Black Lab in the Wal-Green's in the lobby of the Empire State Building or to stand next to a German Shepherd mix in Grand Central Station. I can't help but compare that to an incident that I saw take place here in Grinchville, South Carolina a few months ago at a local Wal-Mart.

Now, we ALL know that Wal-Mart is far from the ultimate shopping experience. It's more like the shopping equivalent of Dante's lowest level of Hell. One day, this woman needed to run in for just a moment to grab something, and she had a small dog, a puppy, with her. Naturally, she did not want to leave her baby in the car. Keep in mind, it was a PUPPY, and a small breed, at that. I think maybe a Shih Tzu or Maltese...something small and cute and furry. THE ASSHOLE MANAGER WOULD NOT LET HER TAKE IT IN! I mean, she was not going to put the puppy down on the floor to run around...she told him that, and that she was only going to be a few minutes. And he still would not let her take her puppy in there. As I told a friend of mine, I'm more offended by most of the clientele there, especially some of the kids, than I am by a dog. Then again, I like dogs better than I like most people.

I will say a good thing about the local Hobby Lobby, though. I had to run in there one day to grab a couple of things for a mosaic I was working on, and I had Sitka with me. She's one of my Huskies, and she was all of about three months old at the time. I carried her in with me since I didn't want to leave her in the car, and everyone who worked there made over her like she was a baby! One person did ask me if she was a wolf pup, though! That made me laugh.

COMING SOON TO THE WITCH'S BLOG! Parenting tips, Appalachian Witchy Style! When we were at the family reunion in Connecticut, the darling Czech Pecker and I were talking to one of his cousins, Kara, who also has two children, both girls, around the same age as our own two Spawns of Satan. We were talking about parenting styles, things we've seen other people do that we thought were too strict, what we do that might seem a bit unconventional to some, etc. Kara suggested to me that I put some of our parenting style stuff on my blog, so I will be doing just that. I just hope that nobody from the South Carolina Department of Social Services will be reading it. At any rate, I haven't decided yet if I am going to do it as a single blog entry where I lay it all out there at once, or if I will do it as part of a daily "tip" a little at a time at the end of each blog entry. When some of my brain cells settle back down in a day or two, I'll figure it out.

So, I'm STILL trying to play catch-up here. It's been kind of hard because the kids want to do this and that, go swimming, yada yada yada. I will upload my vacation photos tomorrow so I can do a photo blog entry, complete with my usual smart ass captions. That is, as soon as I run my errands to the school uniform store, to the pet supply store, to Target, to print some photos out, and so on...

Back in South Carolina...boo hoo

We made it back late yesterday afternoon, welcomed by the heat and humidity. Ugh.

I will soon be uploading my photos. We spent part of Monday in Central Park, and I found one of my religious shrines--the statue of Balto!

The darling Czech Pecker has promised me a trip this fall sans children. He asked if I wanted to go to Boston or back to New York. It was a hard decision since I love Boston, too, but I think I want to head back to New York. I am looking forward to doing everything that I want to do!

The Funny Farm Descends Upon Manhattan

And I have the pictures to prove it, but I have to upload them. And quite frankly, I'm too dang tired right now to deal with that. We came Up North on Friday afternoon for a family reunion in Connecticut on the darling Czech Pecker's side of the family. That event was yesterday, hosted by my father-in-law with help from one of the cousins, Kara. It was a fantastic event, and everyone seemed to enjoy themselves. My footprints are probably still imprinted on the floor leading to the bar where Tony the bartender made some killer cosmos!

And today, we took the train from Stratford into New York. I will detail more of our trip later when I am not on the verge of falling over my keyboard. Plus, there is going to be a repeat tomorrow, and New York will be seeing The Funny Farm once again, so I need my Smartass Sleep!

Just a couple of quick notes to record a couple of my impressions, though:

1--Fifth Avenue could easily be my favorite street in America now. Sephora, book stores, St. Patrick's Cathedral...I mean, all of my needs--beauty, intellectual, and spiritual--all met on ONE street!

2--American Girl New York should really like us now after the money we spent there today.

3--After only 4 hours in the City, a couple of guys in Times Square asked us where American Girl was when they saw us carrying the bags. I was able to give them the address and directions better than the darling Czech Pecker, who has spent time in NYC before, and this was my first time in Manhattan.

4--What is up with the myth about rude New Yorkers? I found the staff in the shops and restaurants to be helpful and pleasant. On the street, the people walk quickly to get places, they're straight-forward, and it's a fast-paced atmosphere, but I have found nothing intimidating or rude about it in the least. Atlanta is scarier than New York.

That's it for the evening. More later!

Happy Birthday, Mini-Me!

Rebekah, my mini-me, is 11 years old today, speeding ever closer to the teen years. Believe me, it's obvious by her sassy mouth. It seems like just yesterday that my mom, the darling Czech Pecker, and I were on our way to St. Joseph's Women's Hospital in Tampa, Florida, listening to the song "Hell" by Squirrel, Nut, Zipper. Boy, was that ever a fitting song. Not for the labor and delivery, mind you, but for the years following. Delivering a kid is the easy part. Raising it, however, will send a person screaming for the nearest liquor store or the funny farm, whichever is closest!

Seriously, though, she's a cute little mini-me, and most of the time the darling Czech Pecker and I enjoy her smart-ass attitude toward life. It is so much like ours, you see. She's funny, insightful, and not overly tolerant of ostentation or pretension. She makes us laugh. We are thrilled to have the little bratlet in our lives!

So, happy birthday Rebekah Elizabeth Lazurek!

My Old Kentucky Home

Sooooo, I have been hanging out in my home state this past week, and it is with great reluctance that I will be heading back to South Carolina, Home of the Uptight and Self-Righteous, tomorrow afternoon.

This particular adventure began last Tuesday morning. The kids, two of the dogs--Mojo and Skyy--and I piled into the B.A.T. mobile and headed over the mountains. We sang along to some Johnny Cash through Asheville, we blasted some U2 while going through the area affectionately referred to as The Gorge. And it's a good thing we had the music to occupy us then because it was about that time that Mojo developed gas. J.P. had fed him some BBQ potato chips earlier. Husky flatulence is bad enough. Add BBQ potato chips and you have a potentially lethal situation. I'm telling you now, I would not be surprised if Mojo farts are still trapped in that valley area between mountains near the North Carolina-Tennessee state line. If you are travelling I-40 through there and smell something frightening, don't say I didn't warn you.

Last Friday, my dad and I went and got inked, proving that old adage true, the family that gets tattoos together, stays together. Okay, maybe it's not really an old adage, but it should be. A redneck adage, at least. Anyway, I will have to post pictures later because I don't have my cord with me that connects the camera to the computer. His is military related, and I got a cross with a Rosary draped over it. My mom is now wanting one, a Husky, naturally!

The darling Czech Pecker is not left out of all of this. Because of his schedule, he did not come up until Friday morning, and he went back Sunday evening. He shocked the bejeezus out of me by getting a tattoo, also. Okay, now we're starting to sound like a version of Family Ink or something! Anyway, Friday evening being the 4th of July, it was fireworks time. In true redneck fashion, up here on the hill, there was a competition between ours and some guy over the hill. Shouts of "incoming!" were heard--mainly from my dad--and booms and sparks were flying everywhere. At least nobody spoke and/or heard the words, "hey y'all, hold my drink and watch this!" You know there is going to be trouble when you hear THAT in a redneck venue.

Today, we're heading out to the park for a birthday celebration for Rebekah, who will be 11 tomorrow. My mom came up on Sunday to visit her family, and a group will be meeting out at the park this afternoon. Tomorrow, it's back to Grinchville for a couple of days before we head out again, this time to Connecticut and New York.

Alas, Poor Yorick!

No, Horatio, I didn't know him, but I think I can guess what killed him. He really should have stayed away from the cigs.

A friend from a messageboard that I frequent noted that one would think Buddy Christ would have given him some help. I think Buddy Christ has been busy turning my water into wine, though, especially of the Spanish variety!

Yes, I think the heat has finally gone to my brain and fried it. The good news, however, is that Friday was the Summer Solstice, and that means that from here on out for the remainder of the summer, the days grow shorter. And that means I can start counting down the days to a nice Fall with cool weather where I can spend time outdoors basking in the crisp air and surrounded by glorious colours. Ah, cool weather, how I love thee!

More About Summer

I've decided that some animals have it backwards. You know how bears and some other animals actually hibernate during the winter? I am going to petition for my right to hibernate during the summer because I FREAKIN' HATE THE HEAT! There. I feel better now that I screamed that. Now, where is that bag of frozen asparagus that I had on my neck in my attempt to cool down?

It's not ALL bad news around here. I have actually LOST weight! Don't ask me how much in terms of pounds because I don't own a set of scales so I never know my exact weight until I go to the doctor. Even then, I try to hide my eyes. No, I go by how my clothing fits, and I am happy to say that some pants that started out only slightly loose 3 weeks ago nearly landed around my ankles as I was walking across a parking lot a few days ago. While this would have been a rather embarrassing situation had it actually happened, and I probably would have scared the wits out of anyone who may have witnessed it, I am happy to place several more outfits into my charity box. Today, I am wearing a pair of shorts that, two years ago I couldn't wear at all, and three weeks ago were uncomfortably tight. Today, they are slightly loose. But the best part? My face is getting thinner! Yay! I really need to change my picture soon.

I'm also anxiously waiting for a bag that I ordered from Bolsa Bonita. I am a handbag and tote ho, so when a friend from a message board that I am on frequently posted about her bags at Bolsa Bonita, I gave into the temptation and browsed. And purchased. I bought the Lady of Guadalupe satchel. I cannot wait for its arrival! I also have my eyes on several other designs, including a delicious hipster with a Dia de los Muertos theme and a cute handbag in stunning colours with camels and the Sphinx on it.

Honestly, books or handbags...I don't know which one is going to get me into more trouble!

Welcome, Summer

It's official...summer is here. The kids made the Honor Roll, and that proves that they do, indeed, have brains. I wonder sometimes, but there is the proof. We've already hit the pool a couple of times, and my skin is starting to turn toasty tan. I may be lighter than some of my family, but I thank the Genetic Gods who passed on the ability to at least look darker than the wife of the Pillsbury Dough Boy.

In other news, the darling Czech Pecker and I have been driving all over the area, contributing to the profits of the Great Oil Barons, searching out areas where we might want to purchase a few acres for The Funny Farm and The Dog Pack. We've narrowed it down to a couple of places, and, God and the real estate market willing, we will be putting a down payment down in August and hopefully will be out of this house and have it up for sale soon after that! We have a lot of work ahead of us, but I am really excited about the prospect of moving and building a new place.

Tomorrow, we have a small family reunion happening here in town! We have some cousins from Kentucky and from Germany meeting here, and we are getting together for a picnic. This will be the first time we've met the German side in person. It's always fun meeting new family. Hopefully, we won't scare the bejeesus out of them!

PRAY FOR ME!

Time to start the Litany of Patron Saints of Crazy Mothers...it's the last FULL day of school, then it's time to start summer vacation. After a short day tomorrow, I will officially start the countdown until the start of the next school year.

Okay, it's not THAT bad. Admittedly, summer is not my favorite season, but that has more to do with the weather. Heat and I don't get along very well. Of the two brothers, Snow Miser is definitely the one I prefer. Wouldn't you know that Global Warming would have to happen in my lifetime. Just my luck! Naturally, this means that the kids clamor to go to the pool EVERY SINGLE DAY. I believe that Rebekah might be part mermaid, and I keep looking for signs that she's growing fins and gills.

I believe in looking at the bright side, though. Our pool is not crowded, and it has a shaded area where I can sit and read in peace. The kids are both good swimmers, the pool has a full-time lifeguard, and from my vantage point, I can still keep an eye on them. I am SO happy that they are no longer so young that I have to stay right beside them the entire time. Life can be good!

In other news, I am seriously considering formally studying Theology. Keep on the lookout for signs of the Apocalypse!

Snake's Alive!

Everyone is accustomed to hearing tales of my Tundra-bred canines, but I am also a fan of the feline furballs, too. We have four of the kitties roaming around our place, and they have definitely clawed a place into our homes and hearts.

Our three girls are Ariel, the grey tabby and matriarch of the feline family, Belle, the clever and capricious calico, and Jasmine, a sweet and loving solid black, long-haired girl. All prefer the "great outdoors" of our cul-de-sac region, and we leave our garage door open several inches so they can seek shelter from the elements and come in for a bite and a drink in between their Great Hunting Expeditions. The fourth member of our Feline Family is Biggles, a white male Persian, who is strictly the indoor type and who often thinks that he is a dog!

Our Girls encounter some crazy wildlife adventures in the Great Outdoors at times. Take the time that a family of birds decided to start their new family in a tree in our front yard. Okay, I don't know much about birds, so I cannot tell you what type they were, but they were FIERCE! So fierce that they intimidated the bejeezus out of poor Ariel. Imagine birds chasing a cat! I swear that it really happened. Over the course of several weeks while these birds nested in our front yard, Ariel's life was a living feline hell. One morning, the darling Czech Pecker walked out front to get into his car, and he saw Ariel in the center of the cul-de-sac, surrounded by a bird on four sides. Every time she tried to escape, the birds would close in on her, trying to peck at her head! Another day around that same time, she was trying to walk from our driveway to our sidewalk leading to the steps up to our porch, and the birds flew from their nest to peck at her while she tried to run into the house! That very weekend, we left town to visit Charleston, and my step-father, Robert, checked on our pets several times a day for us. At one point, he was standing on our front porch, and as he looked down our street, Ariel was running down the street, toward the house, with at least three birds chasing her! Poor kitty made it into the house, terrorized. To this day, we do not allow Alfred Hitchcock films in our house in deference to her.

Needless to say, we have received our share of gifts from The Girls, mainly in the form of field mice. I've learned to graciously accept these gifts and surreptitiously dispose of them at a later time, when the cats are napping or they are off on another hunt. One thing I have learned about cats and mice, though...they only chase and hunt them when THEY want to do it. After cleaning out the garage one day, a displaced field mouse decided to come into our house, into the kitchen. Sitting in my living room reading a book, I glanced up and saw the little bugger making its way nonchalantly across the floor, and I said, "Well, shit fire and save the matches...there's a mouse!" When I tried to send a cat after it, she looked at me as if I had three heads and proceeded to lick her butt. I learned my lesson. Cats only chase mice on their own terms. I don't know what ever happened to that little mouse. It disappeared into the laundry room, never to be seen again. I suspect it disappeared into that Void where the Lost Socks go.

The latest Wildlife Adventure with The Girls happened yesterday. Rebekah came in and said, "Mama, Jasmine is playing with something. It's kind of long and squiggly." I looked at her strangely.

"Excuse me?" I asked.

"Well, it's bigger than a worm, but it's smaller than a snake."

"What colour is it?"

"It's black. I think."

"You think."

"Um. Yeah."

It sounded to me like our youngest feline member had a baby snake. I walked out front to investigate. By this time, Jasmine was in the cul-de-sac, and the "squiggly thing" she had previously had in her mouth was beside her. It looked as if it was following her! And yes, folks, it was, indeed, a baby snake! I told Rebekah as much, and she proceeded to freak out. I rolled my eyes at her and told her to chill out. It was a garden snake and a baby one, at that.

Seconds after that, Jasmine had the snake back in her mouth and ran back toward our driveway with it, where she dropped it and proceeded to bat it around like a catnip toy. I thought for sure she had killed the little bugger since it wasn't moving at this point. After a few seconds, our ADD cat grew bored and moved on, finding something else to attract her attention. As soon as she was away, the snake uncoiled itself and took off like a bat out of hell, heading straight for the grass! When my mom heard the story, she asked, "Why didn't you kill it?!" Um, because it was a harmless garden snake? I mean, I'm not going to ask it in for tea or dinner, but I'm not going to kill a perfectly harmless, non-poisonous snake, either!

Today, the darling Czech Pecker mowed the front lawn. He didn't see any evidence of the baby snake or his family. I suppose they put it out on the snake network that the Lazurek Funny Farm is not a safe place to be for the reptile community. Between the dogs and the cats, there is no telling what might happen to them!

I have PMS and a Tater Gun

I recently told some friends that I have the Three T's of Redneck-dom. I have my Truck--the B.A.T. mobile--a tattoo--it's a cool tattoo, a wolf to symbolize my Cherokee background. Grandma Sally was part of the Wolf Clan--and a Tater gun. What is a tater gun? If you're from the South, at least the rural South, you probably don't have to ask; however, since my kids go to a Catholic school where a large majority of the families are transplants from up North, they often view me as a rather different sort of specimen, something akin to Granny Clampett.

A tater gun, my friends, is made from PVC pipe. Shove a potato in one end of that sucker, then at the other end, spray some cheap hairspray with a high alcohol content, something like Aquanet, close the end cap quickly, then flick the switch, like a lighter, then watch that tater fly! My tater gun came to me courtesy my brother in Kentucky. He was talking about some of his escapades with a tater gun, and I replied that it was an object that I absolutely HAD to have. He generously made one for me last summer when I was visiting my homestead in My Old Kentucky Home, and I proudly came back over the mountains with my very own tater gun!

So it's redneck. It's also great fun! Especially when the taters, all broken up into tiny pieces, end up in strange places with no apparent explanation. I like to blame it on the Potato Aliens, whom I suspect may or may not be related to the Flying Spaghetti Monster.

I reckon the tater gun is safer in my hands than a real gun, though. Take those PMS moments, for example. I REALLY don't look good in orange. In fact, it is quite hideous on me. I'm unlikely to actually kill anyone with a tater gun. Now that I reflect on it, I'm unlikely to actually kill anyone with a real gun.

In other news, the 13th of the month has come and passed. That means The Girls made their monthly jail break, just past midnight on the 13th. It happens every month, right around the 13th. The female dogs decided to escape. I don't know the meaning of it or if they are actually hiding small calendars in their kennels, under their dog houses so they know exactly when it's time to dig out, but we've taken note, and next month, we'll be ready for them!

In the meantime, I have discovered this game at Animal Planet: Pimp Your Pooch! I have been having WAY too much fun with this...more fun than an adult woman should. Some days, it doesn't take much to amuse me.

Wednesday Morning Thoughts

Does life ever slow down? Do I ever get a chance to just stop and smell my weed garden? Not very often.

I decided to take a breather today, and I am reflecting on the past week. Here are some of my thoughts:

I am still saddened over the Kentucky Derby triumph and tragedy of the filly, Eight Belles. While my pick had been Colonel John (who came in 6th), I admit to cheering as she ran her heart out to pass up all those male horses, coming in 2nd after Big Brown, only to collapse, two broken ankles, requiring euthanasia immediately to put her out of her pain. She was an incredibly amazing horse who died doing what horses like her love doing--racing for the finish line. R.I.P. beautiful girl.

Prior to the Derby, I received something else in the mail from the great Commonwealth of Kentucky, a package from my dad. It contained copies of some photographs that I had been wanting, photos of my great-great-grandparents, great-grandparents, my grandfather in his Army uniform and on the ship where he was an Island Hopper in World War II. He joined up with the Army almost immediately after graduating from medical school in 1942. I am now looking for some old-fashioned looking photo frames, and I am going to start a "Heritage Wall" in one of my rooms.

On Friday, the darling Czech Pecker came home with a surprise gift for me! Here is a picture of it:

It's a Native American Mandella, a spiritual shield for the home. The white wolf on it looks almost exactly like Dougal, our white Husky, the Alpha male of our pack! Also, my Cherokee family were members of the Wolf Clan, so it has meaning in that sense, too.

Additional thoughts for today before I head out:

Spring Cleaning: It sucks, but it must be done. I'm plugging away at it, but as I said, I'm taking a break from all work today.

Spring Allergies: They suck even worse. I bet Spring Cleaning doesn't help any. Thus, my reason for taking a break today.

My dogs are eerily quiet right now. I bet they're plotting something.

Goats

I seriously want some goats. I've been wanting some goats for some time now. Being in the city limits, though, there is an ordinance against having farm animals, dammit all. Once we get some land in the country, though...

I don't know why I have this thing for goats. Maybe it's because I'm a Capricorn. Maybe it's just because I'm a little bit odd. Whatever it is, I just think goats are kind of cool. Think of the benefits. They're a petrol-free alternative to keeping the grass low. Of course, I'm sure they keep other forms of landscaping down, too, but we have Huskies, so gardening and pretty flowers have never been a big deal at our place. And what about goat milk and cheese? I never really gave serious thought to becoming a goat dairy farmer, but hey...it might be entertaining and enlightening.

Goats just seem to have a presence. And those pygmy goats...is there anything cuter?

Speaking of goats, take a gander at these guys, Myotonic, or fainting, goats:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RGz97dxGHV8&feature=related

What a hoot! I don't think it would be a good idea for us to have them, though. They would constantly be keeling over with the Huskies romping around, howling and yodeling. No, I think we need some goats who can give the Huskies a good head butt in the, well, butt, from time to time, just to keep them in line!

Land, Ho!

The darling Czech Pecker and I are on a mission from God. Okay, not a mission from God. We're just on a mission. We're on a search for some land. We're looking for about 3 to 5 acres, not a lot, just enough to put up a modest house and give the dogs room to run and howl. Most importantly, it will be OUTSIDE the city limits.

See, we are currently within the city limits, and it sucks. Big time. Let's talk about somebody complaining about the noise from our dogs and calling Animal Control on us. Yes. Somebody complained about my dogs barking. Now, Huskies rarely "bark," at least in the way that other breeds bark. Huskies have a unique way of communicating that is a cross between wolf howl, yodel, bark, and an attempt to imitate human talking and singing. If you've ever been around a Husky or Malamute or any other Northern breed, you know what I'm talking about. Alone, it's no big deal, but if you have a small pack, like I do, they can sometimes engage in a small cacophony of communication. They are usually at their loudest when we humans are with them because we talk to them, and they talk back to us. Evidently, this is a no-no within the city limits of our small town that thinks it's more important than it really is.

Oh, the visit by the Barney Fife-like Animal Control officer was quite amusing. The darling Czech Pecker showed him our kennels, told him that the dogs were neutered and spayed (or scheduled to be). The guy asked what our "purpose" was with the dogs. Um, did he think we were running a Siberian Husky dog fighting ring or something? The darling Czech Pecker looked at him oddly and replied, "They're PETS." He later told me that he thought about replying that with all of the SNOW we get around here, we're training for the Iditarod, but chances are, Mr. Barney Fife Wannabe has no idea what that is. He probably even thinks Alaska is a foreign country.

SO, we are searching for a place OUTSIDE the city limits with enough room for us all to Husky talk all we want. As for whomever complained about the "noise" from my dogs, may he/she be plagued by an unexplained, non-stop ringing in the ears that is 100 times more annoying than the occasional dog howl or bark.

Reports of My Death Have Been Almost Exaggerated

I've seriously been running around here like a crazy woman the past few weeks. Okay, so I'm always a bit on the psychotic side, but it's been crazy turned up to 11 lately.

First, J.P. made his First Communion! And there was much rejoicing....yay! Here he is in his mafia suit, looking suitably holy and all:

It was an exciting day, for many reasons. The Mass itself was lovely, and it was certainly very moving to watch my son receive Communion for the very first time. Afterwards, we walked over to Croghan Hall for a short reception and to chat with some friends. We had plans for a family party in downtown Greenville after this, so we picked up the cake that I had ordered from Maria, who makes the BEST cakes ever, and headed toward Sticky Fingers BBQ. Maria had delivered all of the Communion cakes that she had made for everyone to the church, so it was convenient for us.

This is when the real FUN started. The cake I had ordered was 3 tiers with a First Communion boy figure on top. On our way downtown, THE BOTTOM TIER STARTED TO COLLAPSE! By the time we arrived at the restaurant, the bottom tier was smashed, and my hands were covered in cake in my attempt to hold up the cake to keep the rest of it from falling. The good news: the top 2 tiers remained intact. This, I told the darling Czech Pecker, earned me an extra beer.

At the restaurant, the food was fabulous, naturally. We're all BBQ whores, and Sticky Fingers has some great BBQ. I had that extra beer, too, and it's a good thing because the next INTERESTING thing happened after the party.

We were leaving the parking garage, and the gates were stuck. Annette was at one exit, these women at the exit beside her, and a cop was behind them, trying to get someone on the phone from the City of Greenville to come fix the gates. We were behind the cop. We got out and were looking at the gates, seeing if they could be forced up in some way without breaking them. And THEN, the cop car slipped out of gear and started rolling back TOWARD MY BRAND NEW TRUCK THAT I HAD ALL OF TWO DAYS! The darling Czech Pecker bought it as an early Mother's Day gift for me, a Chevy Silverado. My mother and grandmother are giving me hell over it because they think it looks weird for a woman to drive, in the words of my grandmother, "a big ass truck." I am now calling it my B.A.T. Mobile and am looking to get some magnetic bat symbols to go on my doors. Then, I could yell out in my official voice, "Kids! Dogs! To the B.A.T. Mobile!"

Anyway, back to the Parking Garage Incident. According to the kids, I let out a high pitched, "eeeeeek" although I don't recall it. They're still giving me hell over it. Fortunately, the cop jumped in his car and caught it but it still tapped the front bumper of my truck. The damage is very minimal, though, and you can't see it until you are right up on it. An adjuster for the city came out yesterday, and they will be paying to get it fixed.

After First Communion, I had to switch gears into POP ART, the school's annual fundraiser. There were mosaic projects to be finished, and I worked on those until I was seeing tiles and grout in my sleep. By the time the actual party arrived, I was a bit loopy, and I added to it by indulging in several cosmos. I slept very well the next morning.

THE DOGS are keeping me busy, as ever. We've been treating the pups, Mac and Kate, for demodex, but the initial treatment was not working very well, especially for Mac. I took them back to the vet this past week, and now they are on another treatment. Today is Day 5, and I can already tell a difference. Maia had her spay appointment last week, and Skyy has her appointment next week. Dougal is still going on his toy raids. Mojo and Natasha are still fussing just to hear each other "talk." Sitka still likes to stand there and sing arias because she has a big mouth. As for the "little guys," Wiggles still thinks he's a Husky, and Dudley is spoiled rotten and thinks I have to carry him up and down the stairs. He's fooling us all, though. When he thought I wasn't looking, I saw him making the trek all by himself. Little jerk.

We're now doing the countdown until school is out for the summer. That is about the time when I will need your prayers to start in earnest.

Time to Celebrate!

It's celebration time in the Lazurek Funny Farm. Rebekah received her acceptance letter to St. Joseph's yesterday, and we're happy because that puts her in a Good Mood, at least for a while. Seriously, we are thrilled for her because it IS an accomplishment. On another note, though, it means the darling Czech Pecker and I are getting older because our little girl is going to be in MIDDLE SCHOOL this fall! When in bejeezus did THAT happen? It also means that her tuition is going to almost double going from elementary to middle school. That kid better appreciate the sacrifices. Do you KNOW what kind of shoe shopping I could be doing with that money? And some of the cute spring outfits I've come across that would actually flatter me...but I digress. We are seriously happy, and I think the upcoming years will be very good for Rebekah's academic and personal growth. I'm looking forward to it.

These Are a Few of My Favorite Saints

So, it's Lent, and that usually makes me a bit more reflective on All Things Catholic and Why I Stay, even though I'm most likely on the far edge of ex-communication. Among the many reasons why I love Catholicism and stubbornly cling to the faith, even when some of the people make me want to scream and pull my hair out until I'm as bald as my dad and father-in-law, are the saints. In a word, the saints are simply COOL. And we have a saint for nearly everything, every occupation. For every situation in life, there is a saint we can turn to and ask for intercession, ask for that saint's help in petitioning God for whatever we need, whether it's searching for that lost set of car keys or brewing the perfect beer or simply making it through the day with the kids without calling in the men in the white coats to come take you away.



Here are a few of my personal favorite saints who hold an important place in my life:



St. Brigid of Ireland: I start with this saint of early Christian Ireland because I took it as my Confirmation name and consider her my primary Patron Saint. She was multi-talented. Among her many achievements, she opened art schools, brewed beer, opened monasteries, and gave away a lot of food and goods to the poor. Given my penchant for drinking and drawing, she's right up my alley! Why an Irish saint when I'm mainly of English and Cherokee descent? Why not? Besides, I've always admired the Irish spirit and tenacity.

St. Francis of Assisi: Among other things, he's the Patron Saint of animals. Considering that we currently count among the residents of our Funny Farm eight Siberian Huskies, two Shih Tzus, four cats, and two guinea pigs, St. Francis logically holds an important place in our family. Even he feels the burden of looking out for our gang at times, though. I've already been through two garden statues and am currently searching for another one...

St. Anthony of Padua: Patron Saint of Lost Items! When I was a kid, my mom used to say that if my head weren't attached to my body, I'd probably lose it. Things haven't changed all that much since I've grown up, and my kids have inherited this unfortunate trait from me. We are constantly asking St. Anthony to help us find lost jewelry, books, Rosaries, shoes, items of clothing, computer-related items, games. Needless to say, we are always making contributions to the poor box in gratitude. Yes, St. Anthony always comes through!

The Blessed Mother: I'm sitting here in my living room, and in this room alone, I see two portraits of St. Mary on my walls, a statue of St. Mary in the corner of the room, and in my curio cabinet, I have a whole shelf of figurines of Mary in her various manifestations, including the Lady of Guadalupe. I also have at least ten Rosaries, including the antique crystal one that my grandmother gave me on my wedding day--that is the one I carry in my purse and use most often when I pray the Rosary--an Irish St. Patrick's Rosary, one from Italy, one made by a parishioner at my church, one with different coloured beads for each decade representing the various continents--it's a pray for peace Rosary--and one dedicated to John Paul II's pontificate.

Now, keep in mind that I live in the middle of the Bible Belt and Catholics make up less than 4% of the population. A lot of the Protestants I encounter are open-minded and tolerant, but there are always going to be the exceptions, and I've met a few, even right here in my own neighbourhood. I've had service people come into my house to work on appliances or some such, and once they've caught sight of my "pagan" statues and portraits, they've treated me as a leper. Once while trick-or-treating with my kids, I was asked by someone where we went to church. When I told him, he actually took a step back, as if "Papism" were contagious. When I was younger, I was easily offended by such people and their ignorance. Now, I am merely amused. My humor and my saints help keep me grounded!

Um, Why Are You a WITCH?

Okay, so a few people, especially those fellow Catholics, may be wondering why the title of my blog is "The Witch of the Appalachians." The explanation is two-fold. It is a literary allusion, but primarily, it is a nod to my ancestry.

First, the literary allusion. In Byron's Manfred, the Faustian main character has an encounter with the Witch of the Alps. The Appalachians may not be quite as grand as the Alps, but we have our pride, okay?

As for my ancestry, no, I don't have any actual witches back there...that I'm aware of...but plenty women have been called that and probably other things, too. However, the one person I had on my mind when I came up with the title was Grandma Sally. She is my great-great-grandmother, and she was a Cherokee medicine woman. In a time when there were few to no physicians to care for the people and their medical needs in the mountains, she used her knowledge and skills, learned from the time she was able to walk and talk, to treat, heal, deliver babies, and care for the folks in the "hollers" and hills for miles and miles around. Because she relied upon extensive herbal lore, she gathered fresh plants and herbs and used her kitchen to hang and dry them. My dad remembers her from when he was a small boy, and he said that a lot of people, while respecting her knowledge, were also afraid of her, and whispered that she was a witch.

I spoke with other relatives who remember Grandma Sally, and they, too, said that many people whispered this very thing about her. She was not a gregarious, talkative, friendly person. She was introspective, serious, and when pushed, had the very Devil's own temper. One of her sons was shot and killed in a feud, and she would often grab her gun and threaten to go kill a member of the rival family in revenge, even years later. It would take several of her other sons to hold her down. After dark, members of that rival family stayed in their holler, for fear that the "witch" would curse them.

There are many other stories about her. The darling Czech Pecker says that every time he hears another story about Grandma Sally, he understands me a little bit more. Now, I wonder what he means by that?

American Girl, Atlanta, and Good Friends

Friday morning saw me heading down the highway, I-85, in my Native American mobile, kids in tow, toward Atlanta to meet up with my good friend Sunny and her girls at the American Girl Boutique and Bistro in Alpharetta, Georgia. The most dangerous part of driving was trying not to run off the road from laughing as Rebekah and J.P. played Mad Libs in the back seat.

We had a fabulous time at American Girl! Rebekah got a Just Like Me doll, and aside from the eye colour, she DOES look a lot like her. Let me tell you, this store is a pre-teen girl's crack pipe, and for this nearly 40 year-old mother--I was totally channeling my inner pre-teen girl. Dolls, accessories, clothes, books...they even have a hair salon for the dolls there! My son held up through it all manfully, and he even carried one of the bags. He's such a little gentleman--sometimes!

We had lunch at the Bistro, and we had a grand time, talking and laughing with friends. Sunny is a hoot. I feel like she's my separated sister or something! Her girls are darling. Being female, we had to all check out the bathroom, and we all oohed and aahed over the decor. Pink and chocolate coloured tiles on the floors and walls, sparkly tiles! Pink sparkly soap--Rebekah especially loved this one! The highlight of the meal for my son, however, was when Sunny's youngest daughter's doll lost her leg. Literally. She picked up the doll, and the tights fell off, along with the leg. J.P. fell over laughing. Everyone laughed, but J.P. was truly tickled!

The Boy was not forgotten in all of the Girl Frenzy. He got some Wii games from Gamestop, and a radio that has a flash light and cell phone charger. He got a bit perturbed when we went nuts in Sephora, but he managed. I also finally got the Vera Bradley tote with the Pink Elephants that I have been craving for a while now.

Back at the hotel, we continued our fun and hi-jinks. The kids watched movies, we texted with some of our fellow Heifers, and talked to some of them on the phone. At one point, Sunny and I were on the phone with our Heifer friend, Jess, and we were getting especially hysterical about Skye's legless doll, and some jerk in the room next to us decided to yell at us...except our kids were in the hallway going from her room to mine, and THEY were the ones he targeted. Sunny very diplomatically told him to go to Hell. No, she didn't use those words. She was very polite, but I think he wondered about her!

We made it back to South Carolina, and the darling Czech Pecker forgave me for spending his hard-earned money, as he always does. Hey...I work hard, too, as his adoring wife and mother to his spawns of Satan, don't I? I'm just sad that there is not an American Girl store locally. I would totally put in an application to work there. And proceed to spend my entire paycheck there, too.

The Sky is Falling

Maybe that's an exaggeration, but as I sit here and write this, there is a storm a'blowing out there. Ah, Spring is around the corner, it is. I'm sitting snug on my sofa, under my son's fleece John Deere blanket because my Kentucky blanket is in the dryer, dammit, with these two Shih Tzus huddled next to me like furry little rats. Scaredy cats. Kids are off to school, dropped off by the darling Czech Pecker, and the temptation to crawl back into bed and sleep for another hour or two is SO strong.

A few random thoughts for today:

The darling Czech Pecker is THE best husband in the world, even if I do plan our divorce at least once a month and get the urge to whack him across the head once a week. Please note: I never act on those urges.

I love my dogs, but why did they have to eat the taco kit yesterday?

My kids are funny and growing up to be smartasses just like their mom and dad. This makes me proud.

I am so excited about going to Atlanta on Friday with Rebekah to meet my friend Sunny and her daughters at American Girl and staying there Friday night to have a girls' night. I wish the other Heifers could join us.

I wonder how I should prepare that roast for dinner this evening?

They say I have ADD, but they don't understand. Oh look...there's a bird flying by my window!

I need to finish laundry. Not my favorite task.

It is nearly time to gather my courage and crawl out from under the blanket and face the work of the day. Such is the life of a Kept Woman!

My Sinless Son

Well, for a brief time he was, anyway. John Patrick and his classmates had their First Reconciliation on Thursday morning, and I would LOVE to have been a fly on the wall to hear the incredibly grave sins that these hardened juvenile delinquents had to Confess to the good Monsignor! As we parents sat there in the church, we watched child after child enter the room for Confession with looks of high anxiety on their faces and exit a few minutes later with large grins. We asked J.P. what he thought of it, and he answered, "It was fun!" Now, I never really thought of Confession as "fun," but it is certainly not the the hellfire and brimstone event that it used to be a generation ago. I went just two weeks ago, with the same priest, and it was a positive experience. If this same priest could make a 39 year old wife and mother feel better after the Sacrament, then he certainly could make a group of 2nd graders have a positive experience, and evidently he did.

Now, we are heading toward First Communion on April 13th! The next couple of months promise to be busy.

The dogs are acting like their usual canine selves. Yesterday, Skyy decided to slip out of her collar when we were getting out of the car after I took the kids to school. She took off like a bat out of Hell, and I was busy getting Mojo out of the car and walking him into the house. I called my mom and asked if Robert, my step dad, could help me chase the hyper Russian bitch down. As I was walking back out after I settled Mojo down, Robert called. Skyy had run straight up to my mom's house, about 1/4 mile away, and was standing by their fence when Robert walked outside, probably lured there by my mom's own pack of Siberian psychos, especially the males. See, I think Skyy is about ready to go into heat again soon. Oh joy. I told some friends that I think Prancer, my mom's Alpha Male, sends out a signal, kind of like the Bat Signal, in the sky, and my Skyy was answering it! Prancer is quite the studly Sibe with his striking red and white good looks, green eyes, and full mask.

Due to Skyy's super rowdy behavior, I have had to put my books out of her reach. Well, she's not the main culprit. Mojo is, with his puppy teething. I know that Byron loved his animals, too, but I really am not thrilled about my dogs trying to eat my Byron books. I do hope the poet, in his grave, understands the canine teeth marks marking his books.

I have one final remark this evening. Alchemy chocolate infused vodka is the ultimate sipping experience.

The Aliens Returned My Children

Well, really, I never expected that they would keep the little spawns of Satan, did I? The calm lasted until Tuesday, then they were back to arguing like siblings, and Rebekah was back to being a sassy pre-teen, and J.P. was back to being an 8 year-old boy with an attitude. Ah, life in the Lazurek Funny Farm!

I think, however, that there are vestiges of the aliens still hovering around our abode.

For one thing, the dogs...oh dear. They are even more wound up than usual. I have looked for signs. Is there a full moon? Is Mercury in retrograde? Is a meteor hurtling speedily toward Earth? I have looked at what they eat. No changes in what I feed them. Did they break into the wine cabinet? Are any coffee beans missing? Have they been sniffing the kids' glue sticks?

One thing is certain...I love my dogs, but I am not a happy camper when they try to eat my Byron books. You see, I love Byron. I have a bookshelf full of Byron related books--his poetry, the full collection of his journals and letters, literary criticism, history of his era, literary relationships between Byron and Shelley and Byron and the Irish poet, Thomas Moore, stacks of articles printed from literary journals. And my dogs have tried to eat some of the books. No, I am not thrilled.

They also snatched a couple of Shakespeare plays, including MacBeth and Titus Andronicus. Yes, I do see the irony of their cannibalistic attack on the latter.

It might be a tad difficult to build bookshelves suspended from the ceiling, and I have a feeling that, being the Huskies that they are, they would merely find a ladder.

In other odd happenings, the darling Czech Pecker actually bought me a dozen roses for Valentine's Day. Wow...who woud have guessed he possessed any romantic sentiments? "Romantic," with a small "r," is not generally a word that describes either one of us! For example, my gift to him was an autobiography of Eric Clapton. I'm thinking that he might be possessed by something. I'm not sure what...I will have to watch closely.

Oh, and I found another wine to try. Cat Among the Pigeons. Couldn't resist the name, of course. It's Australian.

The Pod People Have Stolen My Kids!

We went to the mall yesterday, an act that surely shaved at least ten years off my Purgatory. I purely despise the mall, especially on the weekend, but the kids needed some new shoes. After we struck out at a couple of other places, the darling Czech Pecker and I reluctantly trudged toward The Mall with all of the enthusiasm of French nobility toward the guillotine.

Kids Foot Locker was a painful experience. Crowded, did not have the sizes we needed. However, J.P. did come away with one pair of shoes. After a bit more searching, Rebekah found a pair. And then we grabbed a bite to eat.

Where do the Pod People come in, you ask? Throughout the entire afternoon, J.P. and Rebekah BEHAVED! They did not fight each other, they were huggy and kissy with the Czech Pecker and me, they did not fuss when we said we were there to buy shoes only and not a bunch of other things, like webkinz. We had some intelligent conversations with them, They were sweethearts.

This morning, when I took them to school, this behaviour continued. THAT is the scary part. My kids, especially my daughter, are not morning people. However, we left early enough to make a Starbucks stop where they chose some juice and banana loaf bread (Rebekah) and Vanilla pound cake (J.P.), and they chatted all the way to school. Again, no fussing with each other.

The aliens have surely landed. Stay tuned. This afternoon will be telling when I pick them up.