Embrace the Bacongal, and what ever I'm itching to say !

My Mom loved Christmas.  She loved Halloween and Easter too, but not for any religious reason.  Halloween because it was the same month as her birthday and of the cool decoration possibilities, and Easter because of the get together s with family and the baskets. But today I'm talking of Christmas. I did not understand, as a child of the 80's when on the news people would speak of not being able to afford a Christams tree.  I lived and live in Oregon.  When I was little, trees were as little as $5 or free.  My parents, loving the Grand Nobles, spent more in the area of $15.  But until my Dad explained to me that Christmas trees in other parts of our country were actually expensive did I grasp my fortune. We would get our tree.  And than the waiting and whining would start.  My Mom would take what felt like forever but was probably no more than a day, do put on the lights.  Plastic flower petaled ensconced plastic lights that she meticulously put on, making sure each branc

Why do grocery stores place black pepper in the egg section~am I missing something....salt taste so much better on hard boiled eggs than just pepper. What exactly does "one size fits most" really mean to clothing manufacturers...to me it means if you have boobs or an ass it will make you feel like a tuna boat. Why if I wax my brows at night do I swear I grow em back by morning. How did I ever miss "Gilmore Girls" when it was in primetime?  I love it.  Just like me I don't find a series until it's over, think "Firefly" Mean girls?  What's the purpose really?  When you mean girls, you know who you are, snigger at someone in public or roll your eyes and look over at me, are you expecting because maybe we dress alike that I'm going to smile and agree with you?  No you will get the patented Bacongal "eat shit and die" look.  Graybelle named that look back in the late 80's, so I'm very good at it. Oh and more about the

Brought to you by Bacongal If you drive a Prius, good for you, but if you live in a 3500 sqf home and keep it at 72 degrees year round, your carbon footprint is not offset by the car you drive.  Remember this as you look down your nose at other cars. John Kitzhaber cut your losses and kick Cylvia to the curb.  If you were a semi-retired Emergency room Doc from Bend she would not be sharing your bed.  She's the type that survives life by her brain and body, me I use my brain and heart.  She's cray cray There, their and they're, know the difference.  I'm a horrible speller but please, please don't mess those up. Trust me, you don't mess with the Jews.  I read my bible, I believe it.  I'm not speaking of the debate over the West Bank.  I'm talking of outside forces that threaten Israel.  Even if you don't believe the bible, would you really pick a fight with a whole country that requires all citizens to serve in the military. At 4:40 AM as I e

feet, both of them, and it was ah-ahhh-amazing! Don't get your shorts in a wad, I would never let another man touch me inappropriately. Friday, Mama (aka G. Mama....Mama G. or half of the "prentals") had lunch and than got a pedicure. Mama was the first person to introduce me to the joy and elation of a pedicure.  I immediately loved it.  And being that, as I've stated before on this blog, I may not be much of a runner, but my feet show the extent to which I attempt to be a runner. We arrived and the nail salon was busy, busy, busy.  A young gentlemen got us seated, a cup of water, and hot water added to soak our tootsies in.  I admit I was hoping that he was just doing the prep work and someone else would take the tools to my hooves. He sat down and started to slowly and meticulously trim my disgusting overgrown cuticles and dry skin and ill-shaped, home trimmed nails.  The nice, twenty something man, masculine, gently chastised me for trimming my nails so s

You may have read the headlines of late.  A DNA test on a blood and semen stained scarf found with one of the White Chapel victims has been linked to a Polish barber Aaron Kosminski.  The young Kosminski was in and out of lunatic asylums for much of his life and died in one. My first introduction to the "Jack the Ripper" mystery was in the form of pure 80's television. "Fantasy Island" season 4, episode 6, original air date of November 29, 1980.  The episode title was "With affection Jack the Ripper/Gigolo".  It was a strange pairing of a authoress that wanted to go back to 1889 White Chapel to unmask Jack the Ripper and some meek little guy who wanted to be a gigolo to get some confidence with women.  Really? confidence with women, obviously written by a man. I'm sure I had no idea what a gigolo was and the questions probably prompted answers that as a 8 year old I wasn't at all interested in.  I don't remember that part of the episo

I can't express to anyone why the ache of missing my Mom comes and goes at is does.  Perhaps it's because I am approaching the anniversary of her death, September 28, 1988.  But beyond that, right now, this moment, I am aching for my Mom. I had such jealousy of my friends who passed by the bullshit of teen years and got to know their Mom's as fellow adults.  Cohorts that supported each other.  In reality of my three closes friends none of them have had that much extra time with their Mom's.  Missy and Prissy lost their mom to cancer not long after I did.  Graybelle has lost her mom to the absence of other distractions.  But still I ache. I want to know what my Mom's favorite color was.  I want to know what she wanted to be when she grew up.  I want to know how she felt about gay marriage.  My gut tells me she wouldn't have given a fig, which is how I feel. But mostly I want the warm embrace.  The hug she gave me when I started my period at Burgerville.  I

To believe that Riddick and I our raving proud geeks .  Behold our new to us industrial sewing machine. Formerly owned at some point in the far distant past by Pendleton Woolen Mills. It works great. Riddick was so excited to show me how many layers of fabric he could sew through. So much more powerful than my weiner sewing machine

I've wanted to post this for so long but hesitated on the off chance that any one actually reads my blog. When I see a picture of trayvon Martin I see my step son ironman. Trayvon was black and ironman is white. And although I'm not ignorant of racial strife in our country, to me they are the same. Both are boys. Sweet boys. I realize that any young men that reads this may not like the reference of sweet boy....but that's what they both are to me. The person that ended Trayvons life does not warrant naming in my blog. What I know is this. Our boy, Ironman goes to the local mini mart to get a snickers and Mt. Dew..not so different from Trayvon.  Not 1 month ago Riddick and I and our neighbor were hanging out late in the evening and three boys walked by. One of them said something to our neighbor that was not very hospitable. Riddick stood up and said " you guys should probably just go home" . And that's what should have happened that night the Trayvon los

Habits. ..habits are hard to break. My habit of drinking 5 diet cokes a day was broken by doing a "whole 30 " diet. And what really killed the habit is when I sneaked a diet coke and got a raging headache. ...it just took the fun out of diet cola. I just told Riddick to please put the dog nail clippers back in the drawer under the phone. There has not been a phone on the wall in this home since Riddick moved I here almost 5 years ago But like I said habits die hard

All the time. At any one moment I have at least 2 different stories going in my head. If I ever successfully get them into novel form I probably won't have to worry about how much siding is going to cost on our home. There are to me very different types of blogs that I read. There are the ones that are meant to shock so they get lots of page hits. There are honest blogs meant to loft others up like booshay.blogspot.com. There are others that just give some bullshit version of someone's life that they wish was true. Where does this blog fall into that? Well its honest. I don't try and shock but if I do its true. And it's real I am a short curvy dark haired 42 year old that lives and works in Oregon. I'm a wife and I love that part of my life. Riddick and I aren't perfect but we are kick ass. I'm a step mom and right now that part of my life is creating some frustrations for me  My promise is if you read it here. ..not that anyone reads this. But if it

Starts Friday.  It's time to take a break from virtual reality and enjoy the last days of summer 2014

FYI.  If u don't eat potatoes for over 3 months and than eat jalapeño kettle chips. Your tummy will feel like little bastard clog dancers are having a hootinanny. Just free advice for other post "whole 30" eaters

And I don't know why.  I've wondered if it's my own insecurity.  But it's more than that. I believe it stems completely from not being a mother.  I'm always sucking hind tit so to speak when it comes to a place in the lives of the children I have helped raise.  That point has been brought home to me very clearly in the past 24 hours.  Right now I can best describe my feelings as feeling like I have mosquito netting between myself and my step kids.  I am not in control of that netting, and neither are they, but it exists and all it does is filter out what each of us has to say.

Nobody will read this, most likely just a few family or friends.  Google "dylan farrows open letter" to figure out what I'm rambling about. I remember the entire Mia Farrow vs. Woody Allen saga that went down.  Partially because I am a "People" magazine reader and mostly because at the time my husband (not my husband now) had been accused of molesting his prior step daughter.  Another long story for a different post, that may or may not get me sued...what the hell. Here's my thoughts in summary: Woody Allen: most likely not a classic pedophile because if he was there would be more than one little girl coming forward, at least you would think so. Mia Farrow: yes of course she was pissed when they broke up, he took up with her adopted child, but most likely didn't plant the whole abuse idea because if she was out to destroy the man, she has other daughters she could have included in the complaint. What I think:  Woody is a arteest...yes I'm b