Jessica's Blog

I have been wondering about this coming summer for about a month now.  I've got a baby due mid-May.  Big Boy finishes his school year mid June.  We have a (Thank you, Mom!!!!) trip to the Dude Ranch in August.  Honey Girl has the same schedule as usual, lest we change it in some way.  But Big Boy has nothing planned to keep his overly curious and active self busy. 

I will be in the realm of what is lovingly known as "the fourth trimester" with good reason.  I foresee a healing abdomen.  I see swollen sore and achy breasts, hormonal tidal waves, sleep deprivation, and saggy body skin desperately working it's way back to it's former shape.  Not to worry, friends who are already wondering if I'll be bumming,.... I also will be very happy and sling-carrying a cute little bundle of lovin' without any of the concerns or worry present with the last two babies.  So as far as "new motherhood" goes, I'll be peachy keen.

But what will I be doing with Big Boy?  He's not quite ready for "summer camp".  Not full day, anyway.  He has nixed Water Babies, and I'm kind of relieved.  It's really pricey, crowded, and not all that anymore.  Little Gym and My Gym are pricey and only in one hour bits too.  Most summer camps for his age are filled up.  Most kids his age are in preschool preschools, and not traditional academic calendar year schools, so they're all set.  Most are having their last summer before heading off to kindergarden.  The big K.  He is too, but he'll be at the same school.. sort of.. they're moving campuses... but I digress.

The secretary of Big Boy's school (ALWAYS get in with the secretary people, they've got the true power!) told me the school is planning on doing a summer program for the little ones.  She hadn't been told to type up the enrollment forms yet, but that it was going to happen.  My heart skipped a beat.  That would be my easy ticket out of days upon days of exhaustion beyond BEYOND words of trying to answer his questions or get him in or out of the house without complaints or boredom.  That would be my easy ticket out of hunting down and checking out and interviewing and touring and scheming out other options!  Oh, happy day, to be able to leave him with those I know and trust and like and all that.  Wouldn't that be nice for this preggo brained and ever expanding Jess?

I haven't gotten the forms yet.  Today I broke down.  Call it "nesting", call it what you will.... I want a summer plan. I'm learning not to say "need" here.  Lazy days simply don't exist in this house.  I called Big Boy's school and left a message for the director to please call me and tell me her plans.  The secretary and I had another wonderful chat (love that woman) and at pick up time, she told me all systems are go on the summer program, but that the director had agreed to call me.

deep breath of me trying to be patient.

For the sake of my post-partum mental sanity, please put a thought out for a sumer set of activities for Big Boy.

I was tossing together dinner tonight and was enjoying laughing at the cooking instructions on the back of the chopped turnip greens with diced turnips.  Just some frozen bag o' stuff I picked up ages ago and well... I'm at that point in the freezer.

Now, now, now... those of you who don't like their greens, don't start turning up your nose and saying a prayer for my poor kiddos and what I put on their plates at dinner.  If you don't like your greens, be they collard, kale, turnip or chard... you have not had them prepared by me.  Or, you've not had them prepared in a (what I've now been informed is) "Southern Fashion".  A fashion I thought was Bubbas' diner fashion, or Grandma Toni fashion.  Hubby and I like them so much, they were served at our wedding reception.... by "Bubba" of course.

Anyway... This was my first try with frozen turnip greens.  I had to chuckle when I read this on the package, but I'n not sure why:

"Serve  the greens with hot buttered cornbread.  For the sake of information, the liquid in the greens is known as "pot likker" and with southern folks, the cornbread is often dunked within"

Now, I admit.... it's the writer's gene in me that sent me gafawing in the kitchen.  I mean, the language was far too similar to Japanese to English translations on t-shirts on Osaka.  I mean, really.  "for the sake of information"!?!?  or was it the "cornbread is often dunked within"?  Or maybe it was just "and with souther folks".

Yeah, I'm all kinds of persnickety with language.  I admit it.  But hey.. at least I know Melanie and my Mom will get a chuckle from this post too.

E-mail is really losing it's allure for me lately.

All I get is a bunch of forwards, adds, or newsletters telling me how to vote, or other political shtuff.  Lots and lots of political shtuff.

Every now and again I get an e-mail from a friend that's great, but honestly it's usually a list of links pertaining to conversations we have had or bits of conversation we did not have time for.  Sometimes it's a response to somethign I wrote a blue moon ago.

Conversations and correspondence seem to be happening more by phone again.  Very old school.

The only good thing about this is that it's leaving me to unplug more.  I no longer wait with bated breath to see if I've heard from someone.  The bad thing about this is that I often turn on the computer and simply groan at the forwards, the letters from congressmen about how our government is screwing up.

Last night Hubby and I got a wonderful surprise.  The reverend who married us got in touch via e-mail!  He said he had lost touch with us, our addresses and phone numbers didn't work... but he still had a web address and tried it, and within an hour was thrilled to be caught up on our lives.  He looked at our pictures, he read my blog.  He congratulated us on our cute kids.  That was a joyous kick in the head.  He was a really wonderful man to work with before we got married and we both were surprised and excited to hear from him.  I think it's funny that the blog entry of mine he saw was the one of our anniversary celebration.

Valentine's Day a friend of mine I've adored but been in and out of touch with since I was 11 sent me an e-card.  I responded and we have been in touch again.  She had no idea I would respond or even if my address was correct.  She and I were in the San Francisco Girls Chorus together and went to the same high school.  We did a camping trip together, weekends in Berkeley, dying our hair with henna, chorus camps, opera/symphony rehearsals, tours to North Carolina and Japan.  She had magically appeared in my college town and again in Colorado where I was living.  I'm beginning to "get it" that we are meant to stay in touch.  Seems friends I shared music with in my earlier years are the ones who stay most in touch. ;-)

I'll keep checking e-mail and I'll keep groaning and sifting through the monotony for these kernels of "Oh, WOW!"  but man.... days upon days of forwards are such a drag!

The desperately needed change of scene happened and it was a very good thing.  No, there was not more rest.  BUt to just be in a different place with another two sets of hands to chase the kids was incredibly therapeutic.

Many and incredible thanks to mom and grandma Toni.  The kids fell asleep exhausted each night.  Granted, Big Boy would announce each evening he was going to stay up all night long.  Usually I would go to bed before he did.  He would sleep with my mom, so she would read aloud to him whatever she was reading, or they would watch something on tv.  Total and complete vacation behavior.  I checked most of my power sturggles at the door.  Honey Girl would crash out completely at the usual hour, for the most part.  One night she fell asleep on my arm at the dinner time.

I got in some walking out on my own.  I walked to the memorial park with Ajna, Grandma's Afghan hound.  Grandpa's flowers had fallen from his niche, so I got him some new ones and put them up.

Mom and I took the kids to The Living Desert.  They had a great time at the Watutu Village crawling around in grain urns and large weaver bird nest models.

The kids got very good at swimming with life jackets on.  Honey Girl enjoyed doing cannon ball jumps off the side of the pool.  As did Big Boy, though he is by nature more cautious about what might befall his body if he's not careful.  If I could inject this into my daughter I would.  She seems to be born with the security that there will always be someone to catch her, or that she can survive anything.  While this is an admirable trait... it can be.... rather trying to handle as a mother.

I cherished the moments when I would be heading out to do something and Big Boy would say he wanted to stay with Ggma Toni.  He would say he wanted to stay with her and keep her company.  This warmed my spirit that they have this relationship.  She was happy to have his company.  He stayed with her and minded her words, knowing full well there was no way she couldn chase him or help him physically, as she needs a walker to get around, and getting up is so hard for her right now.  He wanted to sleep with Grandma Margi at night and didn't mind her snoring or that she would talk in her sleep from time to time.  He talks about missing her now that we are back.  I loved that Honey Girl had fits at SFO that she wanted her Grandma Margi.  It was a relief to not be the one in demand.  On our way home, that did change, as we had all gotten the break we needed from each other.

Big Boy's next vacation is his Spring Break.  I will be bigger in the pregnancy and don't think I'll be okay for air travel.  Hubby may be able to get the time off and we will head down there again.

Today is Hubby and my's 7th anniversary.  It is really hard to believe this amount of time has flown by.  I love him more today than the day I met this  code monkey quiet man, with a warm fuzzy secret heart.  We've lived at four different addresses, had four pregnancies and will have (Universe willing) three wonderful kids.  We talk about our dreams and hopes.  I cut his hair for him every other week.  He remembers what we were talking about when I get distracted.  He gets up with the kids and gets them breakfast.  We make fart jokes and put away each other's clean clothes on laundry days.  I can't imagine life any other way.  When we argue, it's usually me naggin him about getting more sleep or taking better care of himself.  Imagine that.  And I swear it's not just because when he doesn't sleep and wears himself down he snores like a bear and keeps me up.

We had a great date last night.  We went up to San Francisco to the Castro and ate at Malacca and then saw Jonathan Coulton at Cafe du Nord.  It was a great night out.  So worth the long hours of babysitter time it required.  Babysitter said the kids were great.  The  baby within had quite the night.  Amazing food, great music, nice walking.  Great people watching and even better eavesdropping.  Yeah, I crashed out hard when we got back around midnight, but it was worth the sleep deprivation, easily.

But today, Hubby had to go into work.  Yes, it's President's day, and  yes, it's our anniversary.  Yes, We knew he would have to go in today by last Friday.  I cried.  I couldn't help myself.  I was there apologizing, blowing my nose and acting like the pregnant fool I am.  He was apologetic and went upstairs to get dressed.  While he's up there Honey Girl is asking if Daddy is going to stay today and Big Boy is asking if Daddy could come down and help him with his space man puzzle... and I had to cry all over again.  I mean, here we alllll wanted Daddy to stayyyyyy.  He went, I got over it.  I didn't even hang off his ankle or throw myself on the floor.  I went quietly and carefully about my day because (all my close friends know this) once I have a crying jag, I'm prone to have another at the drop of a hat the rest of the freakin day.

Me and kids head out tomorrow to go visit Grandma Toni and won't see Hubby again until Saturday.  We've had a great weekend all together and I just wanted MORE, DARNIT!!!  Such is life when the man you love is working at a start up.

You know what he did?  He came home early!  He surprised us by coming home before five!  It's been a  killer evening.  I'm not packed yet.  The kids are.  But WOW!  Normally this just can't happen.  Hubby would love it if it could.  He would love it if he got home in time to say goodnight to the kids.  Sadly there have been a few times when we've said goodnight on the phone.  The kids and I  were so surprised.  Honey Girl did the "DAAAADDDDYYYYYY!!!!!!" and Big Boy did his, "Oh!  Hi Dad."  I asked him how he did it and he said, "I told them I was going to leave at 4, and I did."

Now, there's one kick ass partner in life.  Heck, If I had known, I'd have done more than just the house, laundry, shopping, kids and lame dinner!

I'm going to miss Hubby so much this week. 

Honey Girl is growing and growing.  IN every possible way.  I find myself standing back, smiling, and just beaming at what a beautiful little freak she is.  Honey Girl is now two and nearly a half years old. 

If Honey Girl had one statement that describes her, it wou;d be, "Me too!  Me too!"  She is up for any adventure.  She's up for any party.  As long as she is invited and included, this little girl is game to try something new.

She's tough.  This kid has taken so many falls, spills, been smacked by big brother... without shedding a tear.  But beware those who cross her.  She remembers and she (taking after mom here) doesn't get mad, but gets even when you least expect it.  Her physical strength amazes me, and always has.  She kicks like Mia, climbs like a spider monkey and can cling like one too.  Yes.  She has hung onto my legs and stayed there through numerous meal preparations and even some trips up and down stairs.  IF she's sick you only know by the look on her face or by feeling for a temperature.  She keeps on rollin', maybe a little slower, maybe with some more stumbles, but never weepy, never out cold.

She is curious and hands on.  She's tactile.  She rarely is happy to just sit back and observe something.  She wants to touch it, feel it, smell it, climb it and maybe even (and sadly usually) taste it too.  She's a cuddle bug, but will easily say to her dad, "Daddy, no!  You're too big to huddle and cuddle in my bed!"  But funny thing about that... her 6 month pregnant mom fits just fine in her mind.  She loves her school and enters to doors each day with a big smile and tells me in a sotto vocce, " Mommy!  I love my school, I see my friends!" at which point she'll run to a friend and say hello and share a hug or do a running hug to one of the teachers.

On the phone tonight with grandma Toni I was telling her about her great grandaughter and said, "She's a mini Vanessa!"  Vanessa is my older sister.  adventurous, boisterous, knows no strangers, has no volume control most of the time.  We shared a laugh.  A bit later, Honey Girl took the phone from me to talk to her Poppa, telling him all about how "mommy's belly is going to get bigger and bigger and bigger and then the baby will come out and I will hug it!"

You are fabulous and funny little darlin.  You sure do keep us busy!

So we watched the Superbowl.  I honestly thought Da Bears would win.  I mean we coached Big Boy on how to say "Da Bears" .  It took a bit to get him to stop saying "the" to "da" but he got it.  Hubby enjoyed pics of his hometown painted up in Bears.  We don't usually watch football.

But there is one Superbowl add that still makes me laugh.  And yes... if it is on, I will push play ont he remote instead of fast forward.  The kids get the giggles too.  Yes people.  It's the taco bell carne asad add with the lions...

Hubby sent me this link.  It was a sweet and funny (although very geographically biased) goofy survey that makes a good point.  I scored on the lowest possible wrung.  I am not a hipster parent.  I am glad of this.

Give it a shot.  It's the best way of saying, "It's hip to be square" when you're a parent.

Then the author refers to this person's blog when he quotes so beautifully from "the Unhip Parent's Manifesto":

"Parenting is not, and never has been, about being cool. Cool is quite simply not a legitimate child-rearing paradigm. And to hold up it up as such is as silly as parenting according to the principles of phrenology or astrology.

Parenting is the greatest of democracies; anyone can participate. But this stands in direct opposition to some of the very tenents of hipsterism: exclusivity, elitism, superiority. And this seems to be what drives hipsters crazy: the fact that anyone can parent well. The dumb and the smart, the ugly and the attractive. Educated and un-. Democrat, Republican. Liberal, conservative. The hip and the unhip. Male or female, straight and (yes, you conservatives out there who proudly didn't think I was talking to you too) gay. The cool and the pathetic. The lot of them can be good parents - amazing parents. There is no formula for great parenting, no indespensible superficial ingredient.

Because love does not discriminate."

With all the press given to mommy bloggers and their *ahem* (myself included) sometimes whiney ramblings about crazy kids and holier than thou  judgmental bitches out there,  it's nice to read up on the parenting world from the daddy's point of view.  Sometimes (and just sometimes) daddy's make a lot more sense. 

As I headed out for my daily walk with Buck this AM, I reached into my jacket pockets to make sure I had what I might need.

In one pocket I had my cell phone and keys.  In the other pocket I had... poop bags and snot rags.  Poop bags, cuz well... you gotta clean up after the dog, and the weather has been just cool enough to cause cool weather runny nose.  Hence the handy travel pack o kleenex.  I just have to be sure to not need to blow my nose in places where squirrels run across the path.  Buck is happy to wait for when I do this, but not if a squirrel taunts him!

But then, after our walk I needed to buzz by Whole Foods for some soy milk (that they no longer carry at Costco, the bastards!) and bananas.  Whoel Foods was closest in range to my travel route and time constraints.  With a pregnant chick and two small kids in a house, you can never run out of bananas.  At the check out I pulled some of the poop bags from my pocket and offered them to carry the the groceries.  Just cuz... to be useful.

"Would you like to credit your total,  or donate your bag credit?"

"huh?"  (yeah, I'm real eloquent mid morning)

The cashier looks at me like I'm from another planet and then hits the play button on an explanation she clearly needs to give A LOT:
"When you bring your own bags, you get a credit to your total of 5 cents per bag or you can donate that 5 cents per bag to one of the charities listed here." and she points to a laminated WF thingy taped to the back of the register.

"Ohh..... ok... yeah, sure.  I'm happy to donate.... to....[looking at the listing] the urban forest.  Why not?"

The cashier looked at me like I was ignorant as I pretty much am about WF stuff like that.  I mean.. to me grocery bags (usually albertson's bags) are most often poop bags, or poopy diaper bags, dirty wet from park or accident kid clothes bags, passing on hand me downs bags, or used for car garbage or reused in some other way.

Now that I know I'll keep the WF bags in a separate place and now I get to feel all smug in the way only Whole Foods can provide;  instead of filling with poop, that bg can help plant trees in this town.

A little over a week ago, we got an e-mail from one of Morgan's teachers.  His computer class teacher.  It was just what I needed to hear, as I had been having a bad time with him that week. 

I admit, it was so nice, I forwarded it to my parents and grandparents.... you know... folks it is totally ok to brag about your kid to?

But then, Hubby put part of the note into his blog... so I'm going to link to his blog. 

CUZ THAT'S THE KIND OF PROUD MOMMA I AM!

I found it!  I found it!

For those of my friends out there who have had fun with me (Mom, you too!!) figuring out names for groupings of animals.... check this out!

So if you always knew it was a murder of crows, a seige of cranes, or a quiver of cobras.. give ya sef a pat on the back... if you want to sound super uber smart or downright geek sex-ay on your next nature hike, ie "check out that convocation of eagles!" or "What a cute paddling of ducks!" enjoy the site.

It just feels so much better than saying "group" or "batch" or heaven forbid, "bunch"

Sorry, but it's just in my writing genes to get excited over these new words.  They're so fun!

Hubby is upstairs getting the kids ready to go to the park.  This was after watching him handle Big Boy's latest nasty attitude break out tactic of the week.  I did not jump in.  I did not offer to climb the stairs or wrestle the terror.  Mostly because I have been in an avoidant parenting stance this weekend due to being just really effin' burned out.  I've got a headcold that seems to be getting worse and not better.. and therefor I'm annoyed and have claimed WAR.  I even got some sinus rinse thing Tonya suggested.  I just want to breathe through my nose, people!!!

I've had a head cold this week.  The head cold that last week turned my children into tantruming nightmares has had it's turn with me.  The nasty attitude became overpowering to me on Thursday and I just gave up.  I cried half the afternoon, announced "mommy is out of commission", turned on the tv and didn't facilitate a single "enrichment" activity.  Everything was such a battle.  "I don't want to"  "I don't care"  "Well, I want you to do it." (this one directed at me in response to a request to pick up train tracks).  The sibling fighting was pissy and annoying and riddled with fits over "I wanted that spoon!" or "don't look at me!"  "don't touch me"  Pardon me as I roll my eyes.

There has been no blogging.  I'm simply trying to breath through my nose, but now that I've given up on that endeavor, I going to do a blog anyway of the thoughts that have crossed my mind in the last few days.

thought #1)  Crystal Meth users have screwed the rest of us out of any over the counter medicine that used to actually work, the bastards!!!  Yup, it's true. 

I've run into this before.  When we allll had a flu.  At that point in our lives, we had an infant, a child, and adults all with flu symptoms. Lo and behold, I was not allowed to buy more than one bottle of medicine at a time at the local store.  Was it Target?  Or Longs?  I don't even remember.  All I remember from my feverish stupor was asking the clerk, "well, what the hell am I supposed to do with the OTHER three members of my family?!?!?"  See, by limiting the buying power of EVERYONE... the meth cookers (who, BTW have LOTS of friends who take turns buying stuff) might not be able to procure the mass quantities of sudafed (pseudoephedrine) needed per batch or meth.  In reality, as most controlling laws do,... all this succeded in doing was keeping me from caring for my ailing family.  More school/work days lost or more time/gas wasted driving around town using the same tactics as meth cookers (go to different stores and buying one bottle per store).

So then drug companies changed formulations.  yippee.  So nyquil is no longer nyquil.  sudafed is now sudafed PE.  None of which work as well as they used to. Phenylephrine HCl is bullshit!

Or... you need to grab a tag and get the *good* medicine directly from the pharmacy counter.  WHICH IS CLOSED AFTER "BANKERS HOURS".  So last night I bought some sudafed PE out of desperation before going to a Stealth game.  It was the most useless money I've ever wasted.  It. did. nothing.  I went back to the Long's today to get the real deal and OH!  the pharmacy was still closed on SUNDAY.  There were four other people in the same aisle looking at the same drugs, on their cell phones with the sick loved ones at home explaining that they would have to get the crappy stuff ( and take MORE of it) due to this new and lovely legislation.

So.... thank you, you worthless piece of shit meth users for screwing over everyone else.

Thought #2)  It takes me being sick to allow Hubby to be super dad.

It's only when I'm ill that Hubby (provided he is not at work) takes on all kid care tasks.  This morning I have done some cuddling and talking, but that's been it.  He's done the dressing, tooth brushing, Honey Girl hairdo, breakfast... and he just got the kids out the door to go to the park.  I went to the store, to the starbucks and took Buck to the dogpark.. Much much much easier tasks.

He got the Big Boy tantrum and refusal to leave the house, too.  Now I know it's a cold thing to say, but it is nice to know Big Boy doesn't save allll of his venom for just me(that whole being nasty to the one it's safest to be nasty to deal).  Honey Girl played along well, and cheerfully said goodbye.  A stark difference from when I had to go to the store this am and she was hanging on my leg while Hubby was trying to change her diaper and she was shrieking "mommmmyyyyyy I want Youuuuuuuuuu!!!!"

I could do a big blog entry about the mom/dad division of labor in the home.  But I don't see why i would bother.  In my home, I know what I do, and I know how things fall apart when I don't.  I know how to put them back togehter once I'm back on my feet.  That's what matters to me.  It is what it is... to use another Grandpa Ron Grandma Toni saying.  I just wonder how to prep things for my four day absence that will occur mid-May when our next baby Girl joins us.... hmmm...

thought #3)  Black History month is always so bitter sweet.  I mean, really... will watching a week of A&E biographies on Diana Ross, Lionel Richie or other famous blacks really help society at large?

The only (as usual) hilarious and blunt assessment I've had all week on Black History month came from *big surprise* The Daily Show.  One of the exceedingly rare times the only black correspondent was asked to step up in commentary side by side with Jon Stewart to give his two cents on Black History month.    The correspondent said (paraphrasing) yeah, so what... you all get to talk about Harriet Tubman and the Tuskegee Airmen.... big deal!  Then Jon Stewart sheepishly and jokingly added.. "yeah.. and that guy who invented peanuts..."  Hubby and I were chuckling.  I fought the urge to pause the show to rant about my thoughts on Black History month.. so glad I did because then the correspondent said something comically brilliant....

and then he said ( and this sent Hubby and I into fits of tears of laughter:  "Black History month *sigh* let's be real... it's a royal pain.. for a whole month... the shortest and coldest month of the year, mind you...... you all have to act like you like us blacks and we have to act like we give a crap about history!"

Yesterday morning after walking the dog, Hubby came back to announce he met another black family in the neighborhood (yes, we do this... as we have never lived in areas predominantly black... long story for some other post some other time about class/ education divisions/ inequality/ where you live, who you see....).  He said how he and the guy said "Hi, how ya doing?" and nodded.  He described the family and where they lived.

Now, for those who are not black, you may not know this, but it is a "thing".  If you are a black person in predominantly NOT black area.. you say "hey, how are you?" to other blacks you DO see.  I am letting a cat out of a bag here. But I am thinking you will keep this one safe, ok?  So Hubby and I  start talking about this is a funny ritual "we all"do.  One that I noticed more once I left the Bay Area for college, of course... because there are not many blacks in the Bay Area!!!!!  In my adult (not Northern CA) life, I got into this ritual as well.... and now I'm back int he Bay Area where the rule does not always apply.

I tell Hubby, "Y'know... it's funny... when I'm on a hike or bike path and a black guy walks by and I say "hey, how ya doing?"  Their eyes light up, they smile and return that greeting as if to say, "Wow!  You don't think I'm going to mug/rape/murder you!!"

Hubby stiffled a laugh and came over and hugged me.  "Awwwwww, poor Jess... the non black girl....."  ha ha ha.

now THAT... if it could be conquered by Black History month would be nice.

In an ideal world, no one would look at any person of any nationality with the sudden thought that they are a suspect for a crime not yet committed.
But we have a loooonggggg way to go, baby.  So for now I think we will stick to the Tuskegee airmen and Harriet Tubman.  Oh yeah.. and that guy who invented peanuts. 

And Yes, I have taken my fair share of African American History coursework and know my stuff and do teach it to my kids... so if you are lurking out there and intend to flame comment me on this... don't bother.

BTW.... this is my little ***MEOWWWRRR****  Tiger Woods, Barack Obama,  Hallie Barry,  Mariah Carey... they are all HALVSIES, people!!!!  Give some love to the fact that we are better when we go with hybrid vigor!!!  Go hug your half white/ half black friends today!  Bod knows I can always use a hug... but probably not Hubby... he likes hugs from me and the kids... he thinks them wierd from most other folks. *wink*

thought #4)  there is a peeping tom/ flasher in the neighborhood.  Urban living at it's best.  I spoke with the neighbor who had "the incident" and reported it to the police.  Postings are going up.. blah blah blah. 

The funny thing is she said it wasn't what you would think!  The guy was  a middle aged white guy , yuppie looking, graying hair.. he could work at eBay looking guy!

I smiled and said to her, "Honey, I don't know about you.. but when it comes to the craziest most out there types or creepy crimes.... middle aged white guys scare me the most."  and we both promptly  fell into quite the laughing fit.  She thanked me more making her feel better, as she had been well terrified by the police.

So there people.... my mucus filled head had all these odd, pessimistic, sideways views of things this week.  I would not have shared them, but there they are... rambling thoughts of head full of mucus.