Pictures from our recent ice storm.

These are pictures I took at Tupinamba's Restaurant the other night. The owner is, obviously, a RABID Aggie Fan.

Roger and I felt a little conspicuous at first, being decked out head to toe in our new Christmas Aggie gear, but we got over it after we saw the bathroom doors. "Aggies" for the mens room and "Maggies" for the ladies.

This is our favorite picture of Roger and the boys, all dressed up for my niece's wedding. Alex & Joseph were ring bearers and Joseph made it almost all the way through the entire ceremony before he hit the Best Man with the pillow.

Family Night At Our Favorite Greek Restaurant.

I'm having a bad day, and I decided to make a list of all the things that are currently ticking me off and/or upsetting me. Get yourself a snack, it's a long list.

1. My house smells. I don't know what it is, or WHY it smells. All I can tell you is there's definitely an odor. I have a really highly defined sense of smell, and that coupled with my OCD is driving me straight up the wall. I think the odor is centered around Roger's closet and the patio room. It might even be some kind of squirrel mummy stuck in the attic, which leads me to....

2. We have squirrels in our attic. Not just regular squirrels - these are very athletic, very noisy, very social squirrels who apparently like to entertain between 6 - 7:00 a.m. every morning. Squirrels do brunch - who knew? I went on a wildlife removal company's website and discovered that squirrels and "other vermin" (yes, squirrels are actually VERMIN - which DID NOT make me feel better), once they are in your attic, they burrow through your insulation, making nests and "soiling" everything. Yep, those vermin are using our attic as their 2,000 square foot litter box. Those cute little buggers are getting uglier by the minute, I can tell you.

3. My dog is an evil demon from Hell and is out to destroy my life. Okay, maybe that's a little harsh, but I'm very disgusted with She Who Is Thisclose To Getting Shipped Off To Doggie Obedience Camp. I'm tired of being dragged every morning from one smell to another, tired of trying to walk around and avoid her "kitty deposit" snacking opportunities, and tired of being afraid to answer the doorbell - not because of who might be on the other side, but because of being tackled from behind by this 90 pound, blonde, visitor seeking missile.

The mailman just delivered a package for Joseph (believe me, I'll make sure he knows he's to blame when he gets home). I try to open the door just a tee tiny bit, so my sweet and understanding mailman can slip the mail through to me, when Little Miss Nuclear Bomb shoves her way through and takes off like a pmsing woman chasing the Russell Stover's delivery van.

I drop the mail, grab the leash and high tail it after her. Is anything more embarassing than screaming and chasing after your dog, while the dog continues running around doing whatever the Hell it wants, with a slap happy grin on its' face? Yeah, everybody, look at ME - I am obviously in charge of this situation. Who needs Cesar Milan? Not me, nope, I am SOOO much the pack leader.

The neighbor across the street helps me grab Layla and I get her leashed up and she STILL continues to PULL ME DOWN THE STREET!!! Now, this is just adding insult to injury, isn't it? She got her free romp - why can't she be a little giving and at least ACT like she's taken a training class (which she HAS, by the way)? Oh no, she's gotta push and push and push (or in this case, pull and pull and pull) - hey, there might be a nice cat poop snack out there she's missed.

By this time, I'm seriously rethinking my decision NOT to use my father's approach to dog training. Which is to beat the ever lovin' snot out of a dog when it misbehaves. Sure, you get a dog that dives for cover and pees on itself every time you lift your hand to scratch your nose, but you DON'T have to worry about them misbehaving.

4. My yard looks like war torn Iraq. Seriously, string some barbed wire and slap up some sniper towers and you don't even have to go remote to do convincing war coverage stories. I'd like to have one of those "livable back yards". The kind that just BEGS you to come sit and enjoy a book or the wildlife (except the vermin). The only problem is, I'm too lazy to do it myself and we can't afford to hire it done. A couple of things are ahead of that in the financial line....college educations for two.

5. I'm lonely and I'm just gonna get lonlier. I know, I know, break out the violins....but, I can't help it. Being a Stay At Home Mom is a wonderful job. Except, you don't realize how great it is until you're DONE doing it. At least I didn't.

Alex has been moved out a while and has recently moved EVEN FURTHER away from us. Joseph is going away to college in the Fall, further breaking my heart and ruining my life, and apparently the DOG is even trying desperately to get away from me.

6. I can't even enjoy my pity party in peace. I got a Christmas Card from a used-to-be neighbor today. She has two kids that are our kids' ages, and in her yearly Christmas Letter (yes, she's one of THOSE people), she told about her son being in a horrible car accident last February. A very severe accident, which, among other things, resulted in him losing two fingers on his left hand.

She didn't go into other details, but the fact that he's moved back home at the age of 22 and is working for the "family company" tells a story of it's own. It also tells me that I should shut up and stop feeling sorry for myself. If a smelly house, live-in squirrels, a manic dog and a touch of lonliness are my only problems - then I don't have any problems at all.

Joseph told us the other day that he had been voted Most Unique by the senior class. I really don't think he knew how to take it, maybe didn't know if it was a compliment or a joke, depending on the definition of "unique".

Roger and I tried to reassure him that it was, indeed a compliment. But, how do you tell someone, someone like Joseph, how very special they really are.

Joseph started out special, he was born on his due date, which, in case you didn't know, is extremely rare. Only a very small percentage of babies are actually born on their predicted due dates. Others arrive sometime during the two weeks prior or the two weeks after. It's NOT an exact science, except for special people - people like Joseph.

As a baby, Joseph was incredibly easy. He came here loving to sleep and eat, and after the nightmare baby that Alex (his older brother) was, this made him very special.

Toddler years were a different matter, altogether. When Joseph reached the age of question, and he reached it VERY early, in my opinion, the words "just because" didn't mean a lot to him. We had some rough and rocky times until I learned that this child, this very special child, wasn't being difficult on purpose. He was merely questioning the WHYS and REASONS behind the rules and behaviors the world was imposing on him.

Once it was explained to Joseph why a rule was needed, he'd think about it, and if it made sense to him, he'd obey without further question. Silly and nonsensical rules were up for discussion and debate, and IF Joseph decided to follow the arbitrary rules, it was because of his love and/or respect for the person making the request, NOT because it was what was expected.

Joseph, just by his very existence, has taught so many people so many things. His pre-school teacher learned a child can be older and wiser than his years, but, yet still be a child with childlike actions. He taught his art teacher that artistic talent can be detected and guided in someone as young as 7 years old. He taught his second grade teacher that standing up for what's right is more important than going to recess on time.

His band buddies on their trip to Disney a couple of years ago, learned much more about Disney than they would have if Joseph hadn't taken over their group and organized their activities, including bathroom breaks. Such is the burden of a born leader, a leader like Joseph.

Throughout his life, Joseph has helped and tutored friends in academics, art and band. He's always been going places and he's going to take the people he loves with him, no matter how much work it might be.

He's funny and talented and smart and stubborn and loving and dedicated and determined; and he holds himself to almost impossibly high standards. Standards that are so high, most people would be happy with much, much less.

Even so, his standards are only for himself. He isn't boastful or condescending to those who haven't achieved his level of success. He believes every person is an individual, with special gifts and talents to share, and to appreciate.

How do you tell someone that, because of them, you're a better person? That you've learned to look past the surface, and not always take the easy way out. To question the rules and stand against them if they're wrong, no matter the possible penalty. That the rocky, winding road may not be the easiest, but the sights you'll see and the feelings you'll have will be worth so much more; and to give anything less than my best effort is a greater insult to myself than if I try and fail.

God gives us gifts and blessings in life. Joseph is both a gift and a blessing to me, but, I believe he's more than that. I truly believe Joseph is a gift to mankind. The kind of human being who, just by his very existence, makes the world, and it's people, a better place to be. THAT, is the definition of UNIQUE.

Let me tell ya, it was a close call!!

Picture this - Roger, who is so afraid of heights the man has to psyche himself up to climb a 6 ft. ladder, was precariously propping the ladder across the hedges in front of the house (now, anyone who knows me, knows that my house is on a terraced front yard - so the top of my yard is about the heighth of the top of the trees across the STREET - yep, the air is rare up there.

Joseph was on TOP of the house, LEANING way the hell over to staple gun the string of lights across the eaves. Everytime he'd go to squeeze the staple gun, the force of it would literally LIFT him off the roof about 2-3 inches, then plop his clueless azz back down again.

Alex is on the ground (thank God one of them is Earthbound at least) and is in charge of "holding the ladder". Note to self, holding the ladder apparantly is man-code for casually resting a foot on the lowest rung, while shouting instructions to the idiot on the ladder above you.

Alex is ALSO in charge of transporting needed supplies to the idiot on the roof - which involves a lot of hand waving and heaving of various heavy, sharp and possibly lethal objects, including staple guns, boxes of extra staples and wire cutters - the sharp ones. All of these items Joseph delights and takes great pride in catching one-handed.

Please keep in mind Roger, the breadwinner of the family is directly UNDERNEATH all of this Sharp Object Heaving and One Handed Catching, busily untangling lights while hanging on by one elbow crooked in the ladder.

Oh, and don't forget the ingenious way he figured out how to MOVE the ladder over without all that unnecessary climbing up and down. That's right folks, you just grab the ladder in both hands and jerk it back and over a couple of inches (did I say JERK??). The problem with this is that if you don't do it right, you'll smash straight through the big dining room windows, but HEY, what's Holiday Decorating without a little risk?

I swear, it's a miracle I don't have a drinking problem.

A friend of mine recently came up with a fabulous idea...one which could make millions of dollars for someone who's not as bone lazy as we are.

Here's the idea: Feminine Hygiene Products designed SPECIFICALLY for women "of a certain age". Which means the ARMIES of us currently going through the torture of perimenopause.

This brilliant idea was born out of pain and suffering....the pain and suffering of hearing me gripe and complain about the injustices of this really fun phase of my life. Particularly the following two observations: 1) If you can't see how to open the mini pad box without your cheater glasses on, you shouldn't HAVE to need the pads anymore; and 2) If you can't open the tampon wrapper because of the arthritis in your hands, you shouldn't need those anymore either. Seriously, enough is enough, okay?

All we need is a product name and some catchy advertising tag lines and VOILA, we're in business. Another friend suggested the name, Meni-Pads, which beat MY suggestions of:

1) Well, CRAP!
2) Dammit, Not Again!
3) How Long Will This Bullshit Go On?
and
4) Somebody's Going To Hear About This!!

Obviously, I'm currently too close to the situation to think of a good (and not obscene) product name. However, I DO have some possible tag lines we can use:

1) Use "Meni-Pads" and nobody gets hurt.
2) Use "Meni-Pads" and have a homicide-free period.
3) "Meni-Pads" because sometimes life sucks.
4) "Meni-Pads" because God's obviously a man and He's not gonna help you with this one.
5) "Meni-Pads" because NOBODY looks good in Jailhouse Orange.
6) "Meni-Pads" because your family is starting to fear you.

Our products will also be customized for our target audience. Instead of sanitary wipes, our products will contain various alibis, and the telephone numbers of criminal attorneys and bail bondsmen, in case of any unfortunate homicides and/or killing sprees.

Also, SOME specially marked packages will contain sweat rags and battery operated fans for those unplanned and inconvenient hot flashes; our Econo-Jumbo-Last Until You're Out Of This Hell-Package will include free samples of prescription anti-depressants and mood elevators.

Seriously, what more could you want? Except for not having to go through this lunacy in the first place?

Oh, and if you don't understand this entry or you think I'm being just a little too over the top about this whole issue? Well, then you obviously haven't been through menopause, aren't currently IN perimenopause or don't know anyone who's been there and done that and, frankly, you're ticking me off and I want you dead.

Now, where's that free Prozac sample?

When I was planning our Thanksgiving menu, I made the mistake of actually asking my boys if they wanted anything special. We'll have our regular turkey, dressing, giblet gravy, sweet potato casserole and pumpkin pie, of course.

Joseph requested mashed potatoes, because, apparantly he thinks the menu is lacking starchy foods. Alex asked for something different - he wanted the edamame salad from Central Market.

So, Monday morning found me making the hour long round trip to our "local" Central Market grocery, where, once again, I was faced with a breed of woman I find completely puzzling and amazing.

I'm talking women wearing 4 inch stilletto heels, and skin tight designer clothes to grab a gallon of milk and a loaf of bread (well, probably a gallon of organic soy and a loaf of 6 grain oatmeal/bran high fiber bread).

I think it's an accomplishment for me to make it to the grocery store fully dressed...matching clothes and make up is definitely a BONUS. In fact, if you want to know the truth, I've often been struck with a momentary panic in the grocery aisle, wondering if I still have my houseshoes on. If you saw my houseshoes, you'd understand the panic part - think fur that looks like a pink gay Grover on Sesame Street and you get the picture.

I think these designer females are fascinating and should be studied, but at a safe distance, in case whatever illness they have is contagious. The way my body is falling apart, I don't think I could DO grocery shopping in high heels.

Oh, and the salad? Got it...all two pounds and $15.00 worth. Man, these kids owe me.

I'm calling this recipe Cheater Reese's Brownie Cupcakes because it's unbelievable how easy it is...and, according to Joseph and his friends, they are one of the best things ever made.

1 Box of Duncan Hines Brownie Mix (the plain variety)
12 - 18 mini Reese's Peanut Butter Cups

Prepare brownie mix according to the package directions for cake-like brownies (which usually means using 3 eggs, instead of 2).

Line muffin tins with paper muffin cups (12 - 18, depending on how large you want your cupcakes)

Spoon each muffin cup half full with brownie batter. Place an unwrapped peanut butter cup into each muffin and cover with more brownie batter.

Bake at 350 degrees for 18 - 20 minutes.

FYI:

The cupcakes will look kind of strange on top because of the melted chocolate of the Reese's peanut butter cups. Don't worry, they're delicious!

I've become aware of a little known phenomenon. Want to expose your kids to new things and broaden their horizons? Just buy something for YOURSELF and see what happens.

I'm a Weight Watcher Lifetime Member and I'm always on the lookout for different foods that will help keep me OP (or "on plan" in WW lingo). Naturally, most of this food is of the "healthy" (or tasteless) variety and some of it can even be classified as "diet" (gasp). Doesn't matter...Joseph will search it out and consume it almost as fast as I can get it in the house.

Now, this is a kid who is over 6 feet tall and weighs maybe 170 pounds. He can eat whatever he wants, so somebody tell me why the fat free chips and the sugar free pudding are disappearing? Not to mention the new bran cereal I bought for myself JUST YESTERDAY. (Actually, that one's okay, I'm pretty sure he's gonna have a visit from the Bran Cereal Fairy that will more than make up for the fact that he pilfered my food - kind of like Intestinal Karma.)

The pantry raiding isn't really that bad. I'm a mom and to me, Food Is Love (which goes a long way in explaining how I became a WW member in the first place). But, the pilfering has gone from food to actual household items.

Alex was home yesterday for Roger's birthday and to give me a chance to get reacquainted with his dirty laundry. He'd been here for about an hour (eating continuously, by the way), when he asked me if I had an "extra" toaster he could borrow (read: have).

Being a good mother, I pulled my old toaster off the shelf, blew the dust out of it, and handed it over. I also remembered an old toaster-oven we'd stashed in Roger's closet. What? My house has NO available cupboard space, which often forces us to cram stuff in Roger's closet. We store stuff in Roger's closet because, no matter how much junk we pile in there, it really doesn't look much different than it does when it's just his CLOTHES in there.

Alex followed me back to the bedroom and I held his feet while he dove head-first into the closet after the buried toaster-oven treasure. After extensive rummaging and junk relocation, he found the toaster-oven, pulled it out and managed to escape the ensuing junk avalanche. I think it proves my point when I tell you that Roger didn't even notice we'd been in his closet, despite the fact that the only way we could get some of the stuff crammed back in was to stand back, hurl it in and slam the closet door real fast.

And, just this morning, I noticed Joseph plugging my new bluetooth back into the charger. I asked him what he was doing and he said he'd "borrowed" my bluetooth and he was resetting it to my phone number.

Now, what's ironic about this is, just the other day Roger and I were thinking about buying both boys a bluetooth for Christmas. I asked Joseph if he thought he'd like one and he assured me he had no use for a bluetooth, since he didn't spend that much time actually talking on the phone, mostly he uses text messaging. Silly me, how could I FORGET that $300.00 phone bill we received BEFORE we signed on for a free text-messaging plan!

I told Joseph it was okay for him to use my bluetooth, since I really didn't use it much myself. Honestly, it hurts my ear and makes my hair look funny (and I'm always afraid somebody will mistake me for a rock star - Ha!)

Maybe that's it...maybe the boys don't have a problem "borrowing" our stuff because we've always been more than happy to give it to them. I'm hoping they remember this and return the favor when they're rich and successful. But, just in case, I'm planning on telling my grandkids every little single thing we've ever done for their daddies, and encouraging them to expect the same things and even MORE.

I believe in leaving a Legacy.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I am proud to announce that my son's band, The Mighty Poteet Pirate Marching Band, won the UIL 4A State Championship last week - and, if I may add, this is their SECOND State Championship in a row! Yes, Ma'am...back to back winners, Baybee!!

Oh, and if I may FURTHER add, my son had not one, not two, not three but FOUR, that's right, count 'em FOUR trumpet solos in said performance! A fact that almost every single person in the city of San Antonio is now aware of (yeah, Momma has a braggin' problem, allright).

It was a fabulous time and Roger and I are so glad we made the trip down and listened to eleventy hundred bands that we couldn't have cared LESS about, just so we were THERE when OUR band won the title! Oh, and a note to the event planners, if you have a program of continuous performances by high school marching bands...endless hours of drumlines, brass sections and woodwinds all playing music that sounds remarkably the same - if you have THAT as your event for the day, you might rethink the idea of having a COLLEGE MARCHING BAND as your halftime entertainment. Despite what some people might think - there IS such a thing as too much band. Ugh.

Of course, it was a regular Melinda kind of trip, complete with a cross dressing band father sitting behind me. Don't get me wrong, I'm all about tolerance and being open-minded. But it did take me back a little bit, when I turned around and the "couple" I'd been hearing behind me turned out to be an average looking wife and a husband who was in full drag attire, complete with long brunette wig, make up and acrylic nails.

I don't know if he/she was a candidate for surgery or not, but, judging by the visible cleavage he was sporting, he hadn't had anything done yet. My suggestion? He should start with a wax job on his chest. Yikes!

After the preliminary competition, we all got up to leave the Alamodome. We were saying our goodbyes and the wife looks at me, nudges her husband and says, "Go on, tell her." Oh God...I've told y'all how people are always telling me things they really SHOULDN'T tell me. Seriously, they share things with me I don't even think their Mothers or their Ministers want to know about. I could only imagine what this man/woman was going to say to me. Good Lord.

I shouldn't have worried...the man looked me in the eye and tells me he just LOVES my hair color and that my hairdresser had done a fabulous job with the highlights.

Now, seeing as how this person was meticulously groomed - with perfect make up and hair and I looked like I'd thrown my make up in the air and just ran through it, I do believe I'll proudly and gladly take that compliment.

And, lesson learned, you should always listen whenever someone wants to tell you something...it just might be something you really want to hear.

The boys are always asking me which one of them is my favorite. Alex thinks Joseph is my favorite and Joseph is convinced Alex is my favorite one.

I've got some news for them both.

I have no idea why, but Halloween is probably my all-time favorite holiday. Maybe it's because it's relatively chore-free. All you have to do is buy TONS of candy and spend a couple of hours one night handing it out to a bunch of strangers' kids. No shopping or baking required, just candy dispersal. I can definitely get on board with that.

We had our usual HORDE of Trick or Treaters last night. Seriously, we estimated that from 6:00 - 9:00 p.m. we had approximately 500 ghouls, goblins, ninjas, princesses, bees and lions begging us for candy. Oh, and one 74 year old woman, who was in charge of squiring her grandkids around, but managed to remember to bring a bag for herownself. Gotta love a woman who's prepared.

Two of our neighbors set up scary haunted houses - a little TOO scary if you ask me, but since they never DID, I guess they'll never know. All night long it sounded like someone was being savagely murdered right outside our front door. Talk about your festive holiday spirit!

The first Tricksters/Treatsters pulled up in front of our house at 6:00 p.m., opened their car doors and tumbled out of their SUV. It was non-stop kids from then on. Seriously, the doorbell didn't even RING..there wasn't enough time between moochers to even step away from the door.

Roger and Layla stood there for three straight hours just barking and handing out candy. Layla was in charge of barking and Roger headed up candy distribution, but occasionally, Layla tried to switch jobs by snatching the candy from the bowl. I'd LIKE to say we threw those few Layla slobber soaked pieces away...yeah, I'd LIKE to say that, but I CAN'T say it, because, truthfully? We wiped the dog spit off and pitched it back in the bowl. We're talking SURVIVAL here folks - would YOU want to run out of candy with that many sugar crazed kids roaming your neighborhood?

And, speaking of the neighborhood, ours was so packed last night there was a traffic jam on our street. Alex came over to carve pumpkins with his brother (something that brings back such wonderful memories and chokes me right up, I can tell you), and when he left, he had to avoid the traffic jams by driving down the alleys.

So, today's the day after my favorite Holiday. I've already gotten the Halloween decorations put away, and I've gotten out the stuff for Thanksgiving. Layla and I saw the remnants of a good time on our walks today: the odd candy bar, sucker, and plastic fangs.

Apparently, the haunted houses were a big hit and very authentic; judging by Layla's biggest score this morning...she snarfed up an entire piece of pepperoni pizza in front of one of the houses that was "haunted".

Man, that must have been SOME kinda scary....bad enough to make somebody drop their pizza and run.

Here are pictures of Alex, Joseph and Audrey carrying on our family tradition of carving pumpkins to sit on the porch for Halloween night. The boys have been doing this since they were in pre-school and it's always the same....Alex does the traditional three triangles for the eyes and nose and a grinning mouth and Joseph goes all creative. This year we had the extra added bonus of a girl's touch....Audrey's pumpkin (her very first!) was just precious, and I'm proud to say that reaching in and pulling out all the gross pumpkin guts didn't faze her one bit!

P.S. Notice Layla's hopeful expression in the first picture? I'm sure she's thinking, "one of these things is gonna hit the floor any minute now and then it's ALL MINE!"