Sunday, March 6, 2016

Follow me

My new website is a Weebly page here.  Come visit.  I won't be posting on this blog any longer but I won't delete it.

Wednesday, July 29, 2015

Short Story Alert!!

Go to the Georgia Home and Life site for a short story I've written.  And it's a true story about living in the South.

Tuesday, July 21, 2015

I'm a liar.

I have been pretty darn bad about not blogging.  I know reading the blog is not at the top of your things to do but still it has been over a year since that measly little post in January 2014.

I've started writing.  Google Walton Living Magazine (out of Monroe, GA) and you'll read my handiwork.  I finished a book and am in the process of editing it.

Wesley is now in high school and Regan is smack dab in the middle of middle school this year.  I still work but as a paraprofessional.  Dave and I are still totally in love with one another despite what the world throws at us.

Please feel free to leave any comments so I won't feel like a total loser:*(

Wednesday, January 1, 2014

Happy New Year and all that jazz....

Good-bye 2013!  It's been a typical year for the Hissyknit family.

1.  I broke my left ankle in four (yes, four) places in July right after my last post.  I'd like to say I broke it while saving a child from a burning building or even climbing a mountain.  But no, I broke it walking.  Walking!  It's the most innocuous activity on the planet and yet I manage to turn it into a dangerous extreme sport. 

2. The kids are still driving me up the freakin' wall.  Wesley is now a 12 year old and is sporting a moustache.  Regan now applies make-up regularly.  She now wears a size 7 in women's shoes.  I wear a 6.  She has borrowed my heels, pumps, sneakers and everything else.  If I had any attachment to heels, I'd be angry since she broke every heel I own but alas, heels are my holy water and garlic.

I will not survive the next 8 years unscathed or without a prison record.

3. The two dogs are also freakin' crazy.  Darby the Aussie has managed to learn how to unlock her kennel and let herself out the back door to the yard.  We had to install a deadbolt to prevent her from inviting other neighborhood animals into the house to party.

Darby has also become a bully. She's just plain mean to everyone.  I toyed with the idea of Darby being a therapy dog but then reality hit in the form of Darby failing her CGC test.

Judging by his apparent lack of concern, Zack the Mutant Collie has got be smoking pot these days.  If he gets anymore laid back, we'll need to cattle prod him of the couch.

So in conclusion, I hope everyone has a injury free year!

Tuesday, July 23, 2013

Warning: Having FIVE excuses for not wanting to do something is overkill.

It occurred to me that I have been posting an inordinate amount of Wesley-isms.  So today, the focus is on Regan.  At 9:12 a.m. she managed to spout off FIVE different excuses on why she can’t roll the garbage can to the street for pickup.

1.       “I don’t have any shoes.”  While I know Dave and I are not the Donald Trump family of Georgia, I do know for a fact she has shoes and in no way does she resemble a poor child of Haiti going barefoot throughout the countryside.  She, again, lost her shoes thus re-earning the name “Princess Lose-It”.

2.       “I can’t wear your shoes.” I point out that she has been stealing my food, my towels and my drinks (non-alcoholic, of course) for 10 years and she is in no danger of contracting the deadly Mommy Cooties.

3.       “I can’t find the bug spray.” You might just think that this might fall under Excuse #1 but I was not asking her to undertake an arduous hike through the wilds of the African jungle.  Just roll the stupid bin to the street from the concrete pad to the road.  She would have never left the safety of the driveway.

4.       “I saw the garbage truck go by.” Nice try. The truck that rumbled by was hauling a back-hoe.  There is a distinct difference in the sound and appearance of Peach State Sanitation.

5.       “I am not strong enough to pull a full trash bin to the street.  The pizza box keeps falling out.”  Again Dave and I are not fabulously wealthy but we manage to feed her regularly including the aforementioned Little Caesar’s Pizza box from last night.

By the time it was said and done, Peach State was patiently waiting for our trash bin.  I was half tempted to throw Regan in the bin but I refrained.

Wednesday, July 17, 2013

Warning: It's one of those days.

Sit back and pour a glass of Coke, wine, or hard liquor.  Fasten your seat belts and hold on.
My list for the day--it was rather lengthy as this was one of the few days where we had no rain.  It was sunny and hot.

·         Help Wesley and his best friend, Logan identify ten different kinds of wildlife or evidence of it like a nest for a scout requirement.  Ten minutes into the nature walk, Wesley states he has to pee.  He veers off the path and comes back with 8 ticks on him.  When he sees one on his shirt, he tries to tear off all his clothes.  I get them all off but find 5 more on me.  We leave the park without finding even one stinking squirrel.
·         Finish watching season 3 of the Walking Dead.  Right when Rick is being stabbed by an old friend, BAM.  The power goes out.  However the fridge, the garage and my bedroom are still working.  We have no air.  For the record, it hit 95 degrees at 2:00 p.m.
·         Take the kids to the pool.  Of course, this falls off to the wayside while I consult my neighbor for an electrician reference.  We had no internet, TMobile coverage is sketchy at best and we have no phone book.  I find one on my cell while standing on top of my car’s hood.
·         Fold clothes.  While waiting for an electrician, Wesley throws a fit like he was a male Honey Boo Boo (I still don’t know that is but someone compared their unruly daughter to her). He wanted to swim at the YMCA instead of waiting for the “stupid” power to come on.  Instead of holding on to the dogs when the electrician comes, he lets them loose in my room where I had just folded two loads of laundry.  If I smell like dog at church Sunday, that is why.
·         Cook a pork roast for dinner.  No power; no pork.
·         Check up on Dave who had an important appointment today.  Every time he called, TMobile dropped.  This happened 7 times.
·         Clean the bathrooms.  One toilet was completely clogged.  That kid “I Don’t Know” did it according to Wesley.  Regan said it was “Not Me”.

In the end, the electrician said that it was the power company’s problem as one of their underground pipes corroded from all the rain and cut off the electricity.  The electric company comes out and promptly digs a very large hole under the fence in the back yard.  Just big enough for an enterprising Australian Shepherd to slip through.
Power is finally restored at 4:03 p.m.  The air kicks on and ten minutes later, clouds cover the hot sun and the temperature plunges to a manageable 79 degrees and now we are under a flood watch.

Go ahead, God.  Press the “SMITE” button.

Sunday, March 31, 2013

Warning; The Easter Bunny does not visit mothers who can't control their road rage.

Per Wesley.  This apparently doesn't need to be elaborated on as directed by my son.