Friday, October 30, 2009

Nine Honest Things About Me, by ME

This is all Mindi's fault, again.

Enough with the hero worship! PLEASE!

She had to go and give me another freaking award!

Thank you, and you, and you, and you.

But please, unless you're going to offer me money to blog, or Skittles, or Hershey's Cookies N Cream white chocolate candy bars, or come live with us and be our Uncle Charlie or our Alice or our Hazel, then, please, just let me blog!

But thanks anyway!

I've decided to be a total rule-breaker and play the game like this.

I'll tell you Ten Honest Things About Me, but I'll have to try really hard to be honest, and really hard not to embellish, so work with me here, okay?

Here we go.

Ten Honest Things About Me - by Hurricane Rojo

1). My oh-so-fabulously-gorgeous red hair is in fact, duh dun dah dah, NOT real.
Nope. It's fake. Just ask my oh-so-fabulous stylist Theresa. Yep, it's ALL her.
I will tell you this, though. The name of the color? Hot Chili. Yeah baby. I'm dropping the Hot, and adding the Chili. Chili Fallon. Whaddaya think? So the real question is, why do I have the red hair? Because of the attention. Dudes love it. Mostly old dudes. Like at Publix or Walmart or at church. But I don't give a damn where they are. Red hair is amazing for the ego. Worth every penny. And remember, if you read my "Love Story" post, Two Swords was into "The Redhead". The End.

2). A year ago, I was FORCED into buying Old Navy low rise jeans, and throwing out all of my "Mom Jeans". I was so scared. Frightened to death. Thought I would be excommunicated from my church or something. Then I realized I had to go out and buy new underwear. Geesh. Who knew? But I gotta give props to my BFF The Heiress Sea Wench, for seizing a weak moment and converting into an amazing opportunity and realizing she had a 'What Not to Wear' situation on her hands, and voila, man am I H-O-T. Overnight. I suggest that all you ladies do the same. The jeans are TWENTY FOUR dollars. Try them. Tomorrow. Just do it. I started out with "The Flirt", but I have gotten uber-cocky, and now I am 'down' to "The Diva". Swear.

4). I don't like flowers. I don't like getting flowers. I don't like them. I just don't. UNLESSS..........they are Stargazer Lilies (which I carried in my wedding bouquet to Billy Two Swords, along with some Mexican Heather), then I LOVE them.
Hmmmmmmm. I love the smell of Stargazer Lilies. It will fill up your entire house!
So, I'm a hypocrite. Yeah, well the topic is honesty, so there you go!

5). I drive a Ford Expedition. It is my second one, and yes it is a guzzler, and yes, I am quite small in stature to be driving such a behemoth of a vehicle, but I love it, and I will never drive anything else, unless, GOD FORBID! they stop making them. It just makes me FEEL like a BADASS. Especially this version. It's got some custom ghetto package, it's black with red accents on the inside, and the headrests say "FMF". For Funk Master Flex. Sounded like a rapper to me. So I ask the salesman, "Um, is Funk Master Flex a rapper?" And OF COURSE he said, "Oh no, it's just some custom package Ford put together to advertise their new Flex vehicle." And me, usually the most disbelieving person in the Milky Way galaxy said, "Oh, okay". So I go home and google Funk Master Flex, and I'll be damned if he ain't no rapper my ass! And a gangsta rapper at that. So after discussing this with Billy Two Swords, and really not wanting to give the car back because we pretty much stoled it since it was the day the market crashed 800 points the FIRST time, and because we really liked it, and because we got 0.00% financing, we decided to keep the Funk Master Flex. 'cept we changed the name. It is now known as FUNK MASTER FALLON.
You gotta problem with that? Didn't think so. Take it up with FUNK MASTER FLEX.

6). I swear, on the lives of my babies, I never, ever wanted children, until I met Billy Two Swords and had the hook in my mouth. You know, the one from when he went fishing and snagged the Marlin, known as Hurricane Rojo? I was terrified of live birth. How the heck was a kid's HEAD going to fit through a hole that had problems with Super Tampons? Seriously? How on earth would this work? And hello, me? A mother? Now THAT was hilarious. At the time anyway. Now, everytime the phone rings I'm scared to death it's the Department of Children and Families.

"Hello, Mrs. Fallon?"

"Uh, yeah?"

"Can you please explain how your son's right eye is the size of a baseball and is purple and black and blue?"

"Uh, his sister threw a monster truck at his face, and gosh almighty, who woulda thought it woulda landed right on his eye?"

"Mrs. Fallon, where were you when this accident occurred?"

"In the house."

"And where were the children?"

"Outside the house?"

"Do you typically leave them unattended when they are outside?"

"No, typically, they have Fred with them."

"Oh. Who is Fred?"

"Their best friend."

"Oh, so sorry to bother you Mrs. Fallon, thank you so much for your time. We will consider this case to be closed with no action and no further intervention necessary. You have been most helpful."

Yeah, um, Fred, he's like our DOG.

But she didn't ask and I didn't tell.

Oh yeah, this never happened, I'm just sayin', if it did.....

This is why I never wanted children. But I have them now, and I love them to pieces. Monster Trucks to the eye or not.

7). I (We) tithe. 10% of our income. 10% of any monetary gifts we receive. 10% of any form of money that comes into this house, be it a tax refund, an escrow overage, an insurance rebate, a birthday card with $5.00 in it from Great Grandma Izzy. We tithe it. You can count on it like you can an abacus. Not going to preach to you, but since we lost our jobs, we BEGAN to tithe the full 10% and guess what? We still don't have jobs. We are still tithing. We are still 100% current on all of our bills, including our home. We still have money in the bank (not as much as we DID, but we have some nonetheless). We have NO needs at this time.
We have obeyed the Lord's command, and we tithe, and he has followed through on his promise to take care of us. 'nuff said.

8). I am addicted to clipping coupons. Sickly addicted. The weird (or cool) thing is, my husband is my biggest supporter. As long as he doesn't have to go to the store with me, he's cool with it. I'm crazy nuts about the coupon clipping. Even back when the two of us were bringing in close to 200 grand a year when we were working, I was still clipping coupons. Yep, I'm a closet clipper.

9). I don't read the Bible near as much as I should. This is becoming more like a confession!

I am 39 years old, I have survived some amazing trauma in my life, I have an incurable, chronic, bitch of a disease, I have the perfect husband, the perfect children, an amazing home, the perfect life. But I am far from being 'done'. Hurricane Rojo has much work to do. On herself, first. But God is far from through with me yet. He has lots of projects he wants me to do. And one of them is to be honest and tell the unembellished truth. So here it is. Love me, with warts and all, or leave me.

Hurricane Rojo


Thursday, October 29, 2009

POOP in the Toilet, RIGHT? You would think.......


Here she goes again.

Another freaking POOP story.

I'm sorry.

I really, really, am.

But friends, Romans, countrywomen, I don't know who else to turn to.

Y'all are just as demented as I am, as my counter reads 26273 as I write this, so CLEARLY, y'all keep coming back for POOP and POOP and even more POOP.

So here's the question of the day.

Can someone, anyone, tell me why,




every day,

each and every day,

each and every day of every single week of my life,


in this domicile,


fecal matter

the size of

the largest baked potato you have ever seen,

sans butter, sour cream, cheddar cheese, and real bacon.

and NOT flushed the toilet,

and NOT POOPED in the same toilet each time,

but chooses a different toilet each time,

and when questioned, all three family members


Can ANYONE tell me




Wednesday, October 28, 2009



Do any of you remember that pro football summer league that Vince McMahon tried to start a couple of years ago called the XFL?

Okay, if you don't no biggie.

But if you do, you probably remember that the players could put whatever they wanted on the backs of their jerseys, they didn't have to use their names.

Well, there was this one dude, (and of course I have no idea what his name was, because he chose NOT to display it on his jersey), who put HE HATE ME on his jersey.

Billy Two Swords and I were perplexed.

What does that mean?


Why doesn't he say HE HATES ME?

Was he that bad at grammar?

Was it some personal joke?

Who knows.

What I CAN tell you is this, HE HATE ME definitely grabbed my attention.

Years later, (yeah, if you've never heard of the XFL, it's cuz it didn't last very long), when I was working, I had a supervisor who absolutely hated my guts.

And of course, being the pot-stirrer that I am (I swear it's genetic, and no, of course not, Mother, it does NOT come from your side of the gene pool), I entered this contest at work to give this dude a nick name.

I chose Peter Pan.

Was it for the peanut butter?

Or for the tight-wearing fairie?

My business, not yours!

Anyhoo, guess who won the contest?

The pot-stirrer, yours truly, of course.

The award?

A comp day.

Oh how I wish I could build a time machine and trade that comp day in for ten weeks of Chinese water torture.

But alas.

It wasn't God's plan.


Peter Pan hated me so much, I can't even describe the hatred.

He wasn't a big fan of the nickname, and he certainly wasn't a big fan of me even BEFORE the nickname, so to say that I was on "his list" is a huge understatement.

I really wanted to order an XFL jersey with "HE HATE ME" on it. I really did.

Fast forward to TODAY.

Reilly the Red doesn't have school today because it's a teacher workday.

We have been battling sometimes, and working together sometimes, at overcoming the thumbsucking addiction.

So earlier today, we worked together on a homework project that I knew would take about 6 minutes, and she was convinced would take all day.

The whole time she was "stuck" with me, she was seriously, huffing and puffing, like the wolf.

And I would be the three little pigs. All three of them. That's how much SHE hated me TODAY.

And then she was REALLY mad because I allowed her little brother to stay home today also (come on, it's K-4, and his excuse for not wanting to go to school was "UGH! Mom, of course I don't want to go to school today! We have SPANISH on Mondays! I HATE Spanish!" and that really hit me where it counts, cuz yeah, who liked SPANISH, seriously, and to make them take it at 4? Yeah, okay, it might be a great idea and all, but THAT WOULD TOTALLY SUCK!).

So today, she HATED me.

Oh, but wait.

There's more.

With this ginsu knife, you get.....HAIR SPRAY!

While she wasn't looking, I sprayed her thumb with hair spray!



It would make her stop sucking her thumb today, right?

She would love me so much for my very bright idea, right?


Until the barrage of "I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!" was unleashed.

So today, my beautiful daughter, whom I cherish and adore and worship and love with all my heart, well,



Tuesday, October 27, 2009

New Use for USB Cables


You know those USB chargers for your cell phones that you can plug into the wall?


Captain Jake Sparrow found a new use for them.

Last night, he was supposed to be taking a bath.

Instead, I found him in front of the microwave (where the phone charger is located), butt naked (except he was still wearing his socks), doing the following:

He had the phone end of the charger on his penis.

I kid you NOT.


(friends, how many times in my life have I screamed "JAKE!"?)

"What are you doing?"

Captain Jake Sparow: "Trying to give energy to my pee-pee, like a super hero."


That's all I have to say.



Monday, October 26, 2009

Not Me Monday!

I am NOT a responsible parent.

I do NOT allow my children to play outside unattended.

NOT me.

NOT ever.

I did NOT catch Captain Jake Sparrow NOT doing the following:

He did NOT mix bleach.

He did NOT mix 409.

He did NOT mix Rug Doctor.

He did NOT mix Fantastik.

He did NOT mix Car Shampoo.

He did NOT mix Armour All.

He did NOT have these items all over his clothes.

He did NOT have this concoction in a plastic bucket.

There was NOT steam rising from said plastic bucket.

When asked WHAT IN THE HELLLLLLL ARE YOU DOING? the Captain did NOT respond with:

"I am NOT a scientist doing an experimentationist."

When Billy Two Swords came running out to see why Hurricane Rojo was exploding at the mouth, he did NOT say:

"JAKE! Do NOT ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, do that again!"

"But why, Dad?"

Two Swords: "Because you could DIE!"

Captain Jake Sparrow: "Oh yeah? But I did NOT!"


Sunday, October 25, 2009

A Sunday Tradition?


Okay, so last week I got tagged by Shana at Blaze N Crochet

Then I find out that My Queen at Queen's World tagged me like two weeks ago (oh no, I'm not behind on my blog reading, not me), so now we get to play all over again.

So here's the deal.

Not only do I, the very lovely Hurricane Rojo receive the following award:

But, the six lovely blog ladies who I pick also win the award if they play my little tag game!

And all of your answers can only be one-word! Easy as pie, right-o?

Where is your cell phone? Counter
Your hair? Fabulous
Your mother? Dirty
Your father? Whacked
Your favorite food? Mexican
Your dream last night? Pirate
Your favorite drink? Tea
Your dream/goal? Cure
What room are you in? Kitchen
Your hobby? Scrapbooking
Your Fear? Liberals
Where do you want to be in 6 years? Alive
Where were you last night? Home
Something that you aren't? Tall
Muffins? Sure!
Wish list item? Snugglie
Where did you grow up? Orlando
Last thing you did? Pooped
What are you wearing? Lazies
Your TV? Off
Your pets? Asleep
Friends? Blessings!
Your life? Chaotic
Your mood? None
Missing someone? No
Vehicle? Expedition
Something you’re not wearing? Jockstrap
Your favorite store? Publix
Your favorite color? Purple
When was the last time you laughed? Earlier
Last time you cried? 10/13/09
One place that I go to over and over? Church
One person who emails me regularly? Heiress
Favorite place to eat? Bonefish

And here are my contestants/winners:

Shana at Blaze N Crochet

Nikki at Life As We Know It

Brandi at My Three Bubs

Erica at In Need of Mercy

My GF at Eyeglasses and Endzones

and last but most definitely NOT least:

Lindy at Obsessed Insanity who says she is looking forward to spending time with me at Blissdom in February, but I am still betting the farm that she'll realize how nuts I am way before February and fake either the chicken pox or the Ebola virus to get out of hanging with the Hurricane.

Play the game, and post your awards!

And thank you again, My Queen!


Wednesday, October 21, 2009

Love Story


Today is the ninth wedding anniversary of Billy Two Swords and Hurricane Rojo.

And today, I am going to grace you with the love story of Billy Two Swords and Hurricane Rojo.

Once again, get out your tissues, cuz it's a dandy.

It was 1999.

The year we all sat staring at our computers on December 31, 1999 at 11:59 pm.

You remember.

It wasn't quite that long ago.


Two Swords and I worked at the same establishment, a landscape/hardscape construction firm.

Two Swords was a really mean 'field' guy.

I was the head office 'girl'.

Two Swords let me and the whole world know that he was interested in 'the redhead' once my divorce was final in June, 1999.


Rojo was married BEFORE?


She never told us THAT!


Yes, Rojo has secrets.

Who doesn't?

Anyway. It was a mulligan, trust me. No kids, no harm, no foul. He was a raging atheist alcoholic who just happened to be funny when he wasn't tanked. Why did I marry him? Well because I was 24 and it was time to get married, of course! Isn't that why everyone gets married?


I know, I know.

The biggest mistake of my life, and I have paid dearly for it, trust me on this one, but it has become absolutely inconsequential, a mere bit of trivia, but it actually comes into play later in this story, so once the shock wears off, keep it in mind for later.

So back to Two Swords being a mean 'field' guy.

For some reason, I had it stuck in my pompous ass of a head that I was above dating or God forbid "marrying" a 'field' guy.

No way.

I was supposed to marry a suit.

Maybe even a frat boy.

A software salesman?

An investment banker?

He absolutely HAD to have a college degree, and he either HAD to own a house or have enough money to BUY a house, and he absolutely HAD to have a job that REQUIRED him to wear a tie to work, AT A MINIMUM.

And he could not be a smoker.

And he could not have ever spent time in jail, let alone be arrested.

And he had to have a grill. Seriously, this was on the list. He had to have a grill.

And he had to know how to change a tire. Because all the other losers I had dated/married (there was only ONE that I had married, so get off my back!), couldn't change a tire.

Oh yeah, Rojo sure knew how to pick 'em.

And may I just point out that I was in fact TWENTY-NINE years old when I made 'The List', even though it sounds like a list a nine year old would make.




Embarrassing fact number 89.

Moving on.

So Two Swords puts on the heat.

And I start to hear it from the guys in the office.

"Hey! I went golfing this weekend with a guy who would be PERFECT for you!"


"Billy Fallon!"


And then I started to hear it from the girls in the office.

"Hey, I went out with this guy this weekend, and I'm not interested in him and he's not interested in me but he is DEFINITELY interested in YOU, and he asked me like a MILLION questions about you, and I think he would be PERFECT FOR YOU!"

"Lemme guess. Billy Fallon?"

"YES! You HAVE to give him a chance!"


"Because, we went out, and I had too much to drink, and he took me back to his apartment, and he carried me up the two flights of stairs (and she wasn't Tinker Bell, if you know what I mean), and he put me on his bed, and he took my shoes off and he covered me with a blanket and HE NEVER EVEN TOUCHED ME and then he slept on the couch."


So then I did what any self-respecting office manager would do.

I went into the computer and looked him up to see how much money he made.


A couple of items on The List got checked off.

He had enough money to buy a house.

And I knew he had a grill.

But he smoked!

And he had been in jail!

And no, he didn't have a college degree!

There was no way this was going to work out.

Even though he had (and continues to have) the hottest, most fabulously sexy, to die for, you just want to eat them up - FOREARMS - I had ever seen in my life. Perfectly tan, just the right amount of golden blonde hair, muscular, just damn YUMMY...shiverrrrr.


Hands and FOREARMS.

That's my weakness.

And I would much rather have a man with dirty fingernails and callouses all over his hands than one who gets manicures. If a man rubs his hands on me, and they are soft, I will throw up.

Yep, I had finally come to the conclusion, that I wanted a MAN.

Dirty fingernails and all, I wanted a MAN.

And I realized, I had never had a MAN.


So I'm still staying kinda quiet on this one, playing the pros and cons list in my head.

Knowing that if we got together, and it worked out, we would both lose our jobs, no question.

I was really bothered by the smoking, and I had a feeling he was the kind of smoker who would never quit.

And I didn't have this like crazy sexual attraction or anything, but I also wasn't turned off, which I also found intriguing.

So...... quiet I remained.

I just didn't know what to make of him.

But he kept letting me know he was there.

He'd call me on a Friday night and ask me if I wanted to come out, and of course even though I was already in my jammies and in my bed and watching videos and eating a stromboli from my favorite pizza place, of course I HAD to answer, "oh, thanks for calling, but i'm sorry, i have plans, maybe next time?", because you know, I couldn't let HIM know that I was having a solo movie fest on a Friday night, right? I knew the rules to the game! I had only seen "Swingers" like eleventy times.

But for some reason, as we are BOTH playing the "Swingers" game, we never were quite able to hook up.

I know there were times that he asked me out and I REALLY had plans, and there were plenty of times that we made plans to meet downtown, but we were kinda opposites in terms of the types of bars/clubs that we each went to, and the evenings just didn't turn out right. They weren't disasters, they just weren't 'right', and we always ended up going our separate ways very early in the evening.

So since I had been single, I had this weekly tradition of meeting Dirty Diana and Tide Water Ted for 10 cent wings and 5 dollar pitchers at this wing place every Monday night. Because I was all grownsed up, and had my own place, and my own money, and was doing just fine. So we would get together on Mondays, and I would always pick up the tab, just to impress the hell out of my Dad.

So one Monday night, Tide Water Ted (who is not the most talkative dude/dad in the world) starts to ask me about my dating life.

Which was weird, but I was honest with him.

I said I had a few dates here and there, that I went out with Marguerita and Beavis (ohhhhh Beavis. Beavis was a platonic friend from high school who has given me enough material to write a blog just about him, but I haven't spoken to him since the time he was totally wasted and tried to feel me up and I effin' decked him, not once, but twice, once because I was mad, and twice because I was pissed that I was going to be losing a bi-weekly designated driver, and he landed splayed flat on his back in his wet front yard, muttering, "ummmmm, Hello, ummmm, Beavis?") every Friday and Saturday night and we took turns being designated drivers, so at least I was putting myself 'out there'.

And Tide Water Ted said, "And what about the other guy?"

I had no idea who he was talking about.

I said, "What other guy?"

Tide Water said, "The guy you're not telling us about."

I said, "I don't know who you're talking about. I've told you about all the guys I've gone out with, and none of them are worth a damn."

Obi Wan Tide Water said, "AAAAHHHHH, but you haven't told us about the one you HAVEN'T gone out with."

Okay, I am totally on board with parents knowing EVERYTHING, especially now that I'm a parent, and I know that we know anything and everything, but TO THIS DAY, I have no idea how he knew there was a guy that I had not gone out with.

I said, "Okay, yeah, well, there is a guy I haven't gone out with."

Tide Water, "Okay, now we're getting somewhere. Why haven't you gone out with him?"

I said, "Actually, I don't know, really, I haven't figured that out yet."

Tide Water, "So tell me about him."

So I told my mom and dad everything that I have told you except the part about the incredibly sexy forearms. Yeah, they didn't need to know that part.

I even told them that he had been in jail for a bit of a stretch for some alcohol/driving related incidents a very long time ago, and that he was from West Virginia.

And Tide Water Ted said, " I know why you won't go out with him."

"REALLY? And why is it that I haven't gone out with him. I'd love to hear THIS", as I roll my eyes and chew on another teriyaki wing.

Tide Water Ted said, "Because he's exactly like me. He's a dumb old truck driver just like me, with rough hands and dirty fingernails, and for some reason you think you're entitled to some other kind of college guy, and that's not the kind of guy you NEED. This Billy guy, this is the kind of guy you NEED. He may not be the kind of guy you WANT, but he is what you NEED."

Me, after a huge gulp of MGD, and a deep breath, and an imaginary slap to the face that I had a psychology degree and my dad never graduated high school but had amazingly analyzed the situation perfectly, said, "Maybe you're right. Maybe I'll go out with him and see what happens."

So somehow, as the planets perfectly aligned in the universe, in the next few days, Two Swords goes out on a limb, and asks me to go with him to the company Christmas party.

And I said, "Absolutely, thank you so much for asking, and you're not going to pick me up in your work truck are you?"

Yeah, I know, total freakin bitch.

Keep in mind, this guy has known me for two years and knew I was a total freakin bitch, and it didn't seem to bother him because he came back with, "Nope, somebody as special like you deserves better than that. I'm picking you up in a Cadillac."

When we got off the phone, I started thinking, if this guy rents a Cadillac just for me, now that is just freaking ridiculous! And why oh why oh why was I so mean to him????


Well, the night of the party arrives.

I answer the door in a totally hot black sequined spaghetti strap little number (yay me!), and he brings me FLOWERS!, and it is the first time I hadn't seen him in work clothes.

He was wearing a burgundy long sleeve dress shirt, nice gray dress pants, very nice black shoes, had gotten a hair cut and was freshly shaved and smelled quite yummy. The only thing missing was a glimpse of the forearms. HA!

We leave my apartment and he escorts me to:


I didn't ask until later, but he borrowed it from a friend for the evening.

I was MOST impressed thus far.

The conversation in the car was very casual and comfortable.

And we talked about the fact that once we 'outed' ourselves at this party, our careers were in jeopardy.

He said he wasn't worried about it at all.

I assure you, I was VERY worried about it. For me and for him. Probably more for him.

We get to the party, and sure enough, tons of attention is slathered on our 'togetherness' like butter.

We had fun, but by 930-1000, it was time to go elsewhere and have some fun.

So all the young and/or fun people all headed downtown.

And that's where the party started.

We went downtown and partied until Closing Time played at 2 am.

And somehow I came up with the GREAT idea of everybody heading back to my apartment and I would cook breakfast for everyone.

And that's what we did.

And it was fun.

And those who were too drunk, were able to get less drunk pretty quickly with coffee and pancakes and eggs and bacon and toast and orange juice.

And everyone left at the same time, at about 5 am.

And Billy Fallon kissed me on the cheek and told me he had a a great time. And I hugged him and told him the same.

And when I hugged him, it felt like I belonged there.

Weird. Weird? Weird.

It didn't make me nervous or uncomfortable.

It just felt like I, me, belonged in that hug.

After that party, we started talking more frequently, but he headed 'home' to West Virginia for Christmas, and of course I was busy myself with the holidays.

And then it was January of the New Year.

And talking about turning up the heat.

One Wednesday evening, I get this call from Billy Fallon.

Who asks me to come across the street and join him and his friends for some beer and chicken wings.

And I decided it was time to stop the game playing from SWINGERS, so I got in my car, and crossed the street, and joined him and his FORTY-SEVEN friends for beer and chicken wings.

There were so many of his friends there, to say I was outnumbered and intimidated is a gross understatement.

I felt VERY uncomfortable.

And either it was previously planned, or the friends began to sense it, but all of sudden, they were gone.

And it was like a movie or something.

Like the room turned dark.


And one of my favorite songs came on the jukebox, although I couldn't tell you which one it was, I just know it was one of my favorites.


And I am mid-wing when Billy Fallon (who has kicked back a few to gain some liquid courage) offers the following speech:

"I am 35 years old. I am tired of playing games. I am tired of messing around. I ain't looking for a girlfriend. I am looking for a wife. So are YOU up for it or not?"

Swear. Word for Word.

For the first time in my life, I am speechless.

I nearly choked on the chicken wing.

And thank God he wore a short sleeved shirt, because the forearms were a nice distraction.


This had never happened to me in all of my life.

And NO man, NO man, NO man had EVER talked to me like this!

I didn't know what to do?

Was this a proposal from a guy who I hadn't even kissed on the lips yet?


What were the rules?

What was I supposed to do/say, once I regained my voice?

Well I didn't do much.

He kept talking.

He said he wanted to be that MAN in my life.

The one that HE thought I needed.

The one that I could rely on, like I had never been able to do.

The one that I could trust.

I'm hearing Charlie Brown's mom talking, because I'm still focused on "I'm looking for a wife, are you up for it or what?"

Finally, Billy Fallon tells me that I am following him back to his apartment.

Now, this is not something I normally did. Seriously. I was a good girl.

But, not only was I speechless, but apparently he had put a Jedi mind-trick on me, and I did whatever he said.

So I followed him back to his apartment.

And he laid on one side of his bed in appropriate bedtime clothing.

And he offered me some appropriate bedtime clothing, which I changed into in the bathroom with the door closed.

And I (not very nervously) laid on the other side of the bed.

And he kissed me for real for the first time.

And he said, "Good night, beautiful."

And I said, "Good night."

And that was that.


And he went right to sleep.

And my mind went back to college.

I analyzed what had happened that night, what might happen next, how unbelievably respectful this MAN had been, how unbelievably respectful he had ALWAYS been, how comfortable I felt around him, and amazingly, I was able to fall asleep.

Morning came.

There was no regret.

Probably because seriously, 'nothing' happened.

And we went our separate ways.

After he kissed me Goodbye.

And then he never stopped calling.

And I saw him every single day from that moment on.

And we started to fall in love.

Sanely, carefully, respectfully, properly, the way that you are supposed to fall in love, incredibly sexy forearms and all.

And he met my parents and they loved them. Of course. Since he is EXACTLY like Tide Water Ted. As Tide Water Ted predicted. And he loved them.

And he met my friends. And they loved him. And they were scared to death of him. Which I thought was awesome. Cuz, yeah, he could totally kick their asses, but he's harmless as a butterfly.

And then he took me to my first NASCAR race and I fell in love twice in the same month!

And then we got to the "I Love You" stage.

And we started to seriously start to talk about what was going to come next.

And then, for the very first time in my entire life, I wanted to be married to this man, and I wanted to have HIS babies.

I had never wanted to have babies before. No way, Jose. No babies for me. Not a maternal bone in this body. I was meant to have a career, amen. End of story. And all of a sudden urges are raging in my body that I do not understand, and I cannot control, and I am 29, and I want to marry this guy RIGHT now and have HIS baby, TOMORROW.

So yeah, 2000 was staring out pretty awesome.

Our little love affair started in early January, and here we are in March, talking about buying a house.

And then something horrible happened.

I got really, really, really sick.

Billy took me to the E/R.

The doctors were very confused.

On Tuesday, I'm jogging around my apartment complex.

On Saturday, I have eight bags of antibiotics hooked up to my IV, and two bags of steroids, and I have no idea what language the doctors or nurses are speaking, because I had never been sick a day in my life.

They couldn't figure out what it was, but by the looks on their faces after every test result, we knew it wasn't something simple, or something so fixable that they were going to send me home with a bottle of Amoxicillin.

I suffered incredibly, but the 'not-knowing' had to be the worst.

And who was by my side the whole time?


The new guy.

Well, on day 2 of my hospitalization, Saturday, I had a super long test, so he left the hospital to try and update my parents and friends on my status, as well as to go to MY apartment and get me some personal items.

When he returned, I was back in my room, in my bed.

He looked gray.

Like his dog had just died.

And I knew it.

He was leaving me.

He knew it was bad, and he didn't have too much invested so he could leave now, and it wouldn't be so bad.

So I had it all figured out.

I was ready for the 'Dear Heather" speech.

He kissed me on the cheek and sat down.

I updated him on the latest news, which was basically no news.

He said, " I have something to tell you."

AHA! I knew it! He was leaving me!

I said, "Are ya leaving?"

He said, "Not right now."

I said, "Okay, then what?"

He said, "I wrecked your car."

Hmmmm. Wasn't expecting that one. Shift to third gear, Heather, shift.

I said, "Are you alright?"

He said, "Yes."

I said, "My car?"

He didn't say anything, he looked down sadly, and shook his head as if to say 'no'.

I said, "Okay. Totaled?"

He nodded.

I said, "Okay. Are you leaving?"

He said, "I said, no, why do you keep asking me that?"

I said, "Must be the drugs. Sorry."

He said, 'There's something else."

Okay Heather, shift to fourth, what the hell ELSE could there be? Did a doctor tell him the diagnosis? Am I dying? Is THAT why he is gray? UGH!

I said, "O...k....a.....y"

He said, "I called your Dad."

I didn't understand the significance, but said again, "Okay."

He said, "Well, I had the accident, I knew you would have great insurance, so I didn't worry about that, but I didn't know if I should tell you about your car right now, when you don't even need it really, so before I called the police I called your Dad."

I said, "Okay."

He said, "Well, your Dad told me, 'Billy, do NOT tell her about this until she gets OUT of the hospital. She doesn't need her car right now anyway, and she has enough to worry about until they find out what's wrong.'"

I said, "Okay, so why did you tell me?"

And the man who would be my husband said, "I just couldn't lie to you. I just couldn't."

And I said, "Are you leaving?"

And he said, "Goddamn it, Heather, NO, I am not leaving! What the hell are you talking about?"

Friends, in that moment in time, I knew everything I needed to know about Billy Fallon to determine that he in fact WAS the man for me.

1). He would never, ever lie to me.

2). He honored my father. Even if he didn't do what my dad said, he honored him enough to consult his opinion, but he was so honest of a person, he just couldn't keep the truth from me.

3). He would never, ever leave me.

4). He would always take responsibility for his actions, and guilt had an amazing effect on his level of personal responsibility.

5). He loved me enough to do things that were uncomfortable, but necessary.

In that moment I knew.

This man would be my husband and the father of my children.

And God put Billy Fallon in my life at the perfect, divine time, as I am battling some very scary new illness, as husband numero uno would not have been by my side, would not have been able to handle it, would not have told me about the accident, would not have called my dad, and would have lied his way through anything and everything, if you could find him, because he would most likely have been in a bar, tanked, the whole time that I was in the hospital.

And I started to smile.

And Billy Fallon said, "Are you mad?"

And still smiling, I said, "Not at all. Come up here on the bed and snuggle with me."

And that he did.

The next day, the nurses said I could take a shower, so they taped up all my IV lines, and Billy offered to help.

He was so loving and gentle; I had never needed assistance in taking a shower in my whole entire life, but he helped me to wash my hair, and he helped me to shave my legs, and he didn't say a word the entire time. He was gifting me with his love. And none of it was a sexual love. It was a genuine, caring, helpful, I'll do anything for you I love you so much, love. He helped me to dry my hair. And then he snuggled with me in the hospital bed again and watched a movie with me until he had to go to get some sleep to be able to try and function at work the next day, with nothing but me and my future health status on his mind.

Three days later I was diagnosed with Crohn's Disease.

Seven days later knowing full well that I had an incurable, chronic, bitch of a disease, Billy Fallon asked me to be his wife.

I said Yes.

Seven months later, we were married on a beautiful Saturday in October, in our little country church (that we still belong to and are raising our two little Fallons in) with a reception in our backyard that included a pig roast and fried turkeys and a Dale Earnhardt, Sr. Groom's Cake, of which people still say, nine years later, "That was the BEST wedding I have ever been to. So relaxed, so casual, just about people sharing the love and having a good time."

The past nine years have been one heck of a ride.

Some of it incredibly bumpy.

Very little of it has been smooth.

But I wouldn't change one minute of it.

For I have been blessed with a love so great, so special, so divine, that I know in my heart that it was God sent.

I love you, Billy "Two Swords" Fallon.

In a way I never knew possible.

And I wouldn't be here today without you.

And neither would those other two pirates.

What we have is too special for words.

But I tried the best I could.

And after nine years, I still can't imagine life without those forearms.

All my love,


Tuesday, October 20, 2009

By Popular Request (DEMAND)

About 63 of my 65 loyal followers have begged me to disclose the recipe for Sex In A Pan.

Here's the link.

Sex In A Pan


Whoa... Me? Not me! No way!

To quote:

"Diverting the internal traffic between the Writer as Angel of Light and the Writer as Hustler is the scribbling child in a grown-up body, wondering if anyone is listening."

~Herbert Gold, Elder Statesman of The Beat Generation~

Okay, well I stoled that quote from All My Monkeys who keeps coming back for more tales of poop, pee, and pirates galore at I've Got Poop In My Pocket. She has also, graciously, awarded me with... dunt da-da DAAAA...

You can read about the origins of this Superior Scribbler Award at The Scholastic Scribe.

I would like to pass on the privilege to these 5 lucky bloggers:

1. Nikki at Life As We Know It - cuz she's having a rough week and could use a pick me up. Oh yeah, and because she's way funnier than I am.

2. He && Me + 3 - because she has followed me daily, from the very beginning, and I appreciate her unending support, as well as the daily tales of her own set of pirates!

3. Matthew at Jesus Needs New PR - okay, I know he's a dude, but girls, he's hilarious. I read him everyday, and I love his 'real' books. I've ordered several, and he even signs them! And as a result of his books, he has become 'tweet' friends with my pastor. So check him out. Even if he IS a dude.

4. Brandi at My Three Bubs - anyone who refers to all of her children as Bubba definitely deserves an award! Brandi is a recent follower, but such a great follower, that she borders on stalker/follower. (just kidding, Brandi! love ya!)

5). And I can never leave out My Queen at Queen's World - talk about hilarious! My Queen has no boundaries, and leaves it all out on the table. And when I say ALL, I mean ALL.

Of course, as with every Bloggy Award, there are A Few Rules. They are, forthwith:

* Each Superior Scribbler must in turn pass The Award on to 5 most-deserving Bloggy Friends.

* Each Superior Scribbler must link to the author & the name of the blog from whom he/she has received The Award.

* Each Superior Scribbler must display The Award on his/her blog, and link to This Post, which explains The Award.

* Each Blogger who wins The Superior Scribbler Award must visit this post and add his/her name to the Mr. Linky List. That way, we'll be able to keep up-to-date on everyone who receives This Prestigious Honor!

* Each Superior Scribbler must post these rules on his/her blog.

Thank you my All My Monkeys friend. Thank you for finding me, liking me, and passing me along.

And to all my other followers, check out the award winners. You just might love them all as much as I do!


Monday, October 19, 2009

Not Me Monday!


I have NEVER posted about my tendency to be a bit of a klutz.

I do NOT fall down daily.

I do NOT have two knees that should NOT be replaced right now.

I am NOT fighting the doctors that I am NOT too young to have knee replacements.

My husband and children do NOT laugh at me and my falling on a daily basis.

A few weeks ago, I did NOT fall down while taking a group family picture.


Not me.

Today, I did NOT fall down.


Not as I was walking up the stairs and onto the stage at church.

Not as everyone was waiting for me to get to my 'place' to play bells.


I did NOT fall down.

And some of my bell lady friends did NOT try to help me up.

They did NOT say, "Awwww. Well, HEATHER!"

That would NOT have helped the situation.

I was NOT embarrassed by the falling.

I then did NOT totally mess up 13 bell measures in a row.

I did NOT want to hide under the bell table.


Not me.

I did NOT fall again the rest of the day.

Or did I Not?


Sunday, October 18, 2009


I got tagged by Shana at Blaze 'n' Crochet, and I'm not the least bit ticked off about it!

Usually I get totally mad, but surprisingly, I had nothing to post today (I know, it's early), so I'll just play along with Miss Shana and there will be my post for the day. Plus, you'll probly get to learn something else weird about me and my OCD whackjob psych degree self. So, enjoy!

A - Age: 39

B - Bed size: Queen. BUT - it's a vibrating, adjustable, Sleep Number bed that is absolutely TO DIE FOR. If you don't have one, you have NO idea what you're missing!

C - Chore you hate: Mopping

D - Dog's name: Fred

E - Essential start your day item: Coffee with a funky International Delight flavored creamer combined with a minimum of 30 minutes of Fox and Friends.

F - Favorite color: Purple

G - Gold or Silver: Silver

H - Height: Very, very, short

I - I am: very, very strange, annoying, and nowhere near as funny as I think I am.

J - Job: None that I get paid for.

K - Kids: Reilly the Red and Captain Jake Sparrow

L - Living arrangements: Married with 2 children. Weird question! Not sure I answered it correctly?!?!?

M - Mom's name: Dirty Diana

N - Nicknames: Hurricane Rojo, Bill's Wife, Effin Fallon, Mama, Wife

O - Overnight hospital stay other than birth: way too many to count.

P - Pet Peeve: Dog hair, picking up other people's messes, people over the age of 90 who REALLY shouldn't be driving, cutting (paper), politics, losing my short term memory as I age. Sorry, I couldn't just pick one.

Q - Quote from a movie: "Telling the truth is a dangerous business. Honest and popular don't go hand in hand. If you admit you can play the accordion, you won't get hired in a rock and roll band." - ISHTAR

R - Right or left handed: right

S - Siblings: 3 brothers.

T - Time you wake up: 630 am. And whoever says they wake up later than that, I am incredibly jealous.

U- Underwear: Yes? What about them?

V - Vegetable you dislike: All. But brussel sprouts and cabbage have to take the cake. The smell of them cooking just makes me want to hurl. Forget about them passing my lips. Bleck.

W - Ways you run late: Fallons are never late. We take pride in our punctuality.

X - X-rays you've had: Again, refer to O. too many to count.

Y - Yummy food you make: I am quite the chef (or so I think I am, like the "I think I'm funny" nonsense), but I would have to name the following, as people have said they were impressed. Now if they were lying, I wouldn't be able to tell you that! Here's my list:

Not Yo Mama's Banana Puddin', Bacon Explosion, Chicken Marsala, Chicken Capri, Lasagna (mine is very special with a secret ingredient that I cannot disclose because then it would no longer be a secret ingredient), Sex In A Pan, Coconut Cream Pie, Key Lime Pie, and that's probably enough to either make you hungry, or really really mad.

Z - Zoo favorite: Taking pictures of all different kinds of animal poop.

Okay, now here's the part where you will hate me.

Tag, you're it:

Nikki at Life As We Know It

Brandi at My Three Bubs

Emily at Adventures in O'ville

Kendl at Just Breathe

and of course,

My Queen at Queen's World

I hope we're still friends, girlies!


Saturday, October 17, 2009



The Sparrow has started wrestling.

Or as he calls it, Ressss-A-Ling.

For real.

Like in a league.

With dues.

And real Ressss-A-Ling shoes.

And real Ressss-A-Ling headgear.

He doesn't like to practice.

He doesn't like to stretch.

He doesn't like to run.

He just wants to wrestle.

So the other night, after Ressss-A-Ling practice, I asked him how it went.

"Ugh. Mom."

"Okay, Jake, what does Ugh, Mom mean?"

"Ugh. I got in trouble."

"Jake, why did you get in trouble?"

"Ugh, why do I have to tell you THIS?"

"Because I'm your mother. And because I asked you."


"Jake, why did you get in trouble at wrestling?"

"Ugh. For playing with the girls."


Did he just say he got in trouble at wrestling for playing with the girls?

What girls?

I am trying to process this really really fast.


Oh, okay. I got it.

The girls who are sisters to the boys who wrestle, who come with their parents because they can't be left home alone because they are too young.

Those girls.


"Jake, why were you playing with the girls?"

"Cuz I like girls, Mom."

Makes perfect sense to me!


Friday, October 16, 2009



So I previously mentioned my wonderful 39 and HOLDING birthday that my family had for me a few weeks ago. I'm still reminiscing about it.

Particularly the cake.

And everytime I wear those wonderfully soft and warm socks Dirty Diana gave me, I remember the butt jelly.

BUTT I digress.

I remembered another little tidbit I thought I'd share.

Captain Jake Sparrow gets way too much face time on this blog.

I can't help it.

He can't help it.

He's the Captain, what can I say?

But Reilly the Red is pretty amazing, too.

And even though she's the shy one, she still merits attention.

Both positive and negative.

Well, I'm kinda bringing her outta the closet on this one.

But she doesn't read the blog, so it's okay.

She doesn't read the blog, because she's scared to death what it might say about her!

Well, if I was one of my kids, and I had me for a mother, and she had a blog like this, I'd be scared too.

BUTT I digress.

Our precious little Reilly the Red recently qualified for the Gifted program in her school district.


But I want to mention that she is not just Gifted.

She qualified as Genius.


Two Mensans in the family.


There may be more.

Two Swords is quite the smarty pants, but there's no way I could get him to sit for an IQ test.

That other member of our family.....well, he just might up and surprise me. We'll see.


Back to the party.

My Oldest BFF, Marguerita Reilly came and took all the pictures and enjoyed the heck out of herself, remember?

Well, Marguerita just hasn't quite figured out EXACTLY how smart Reilly the Red is, even though I've told her a million times, and she's spent enough time with her to know, but still, she wasn't getting it.

So every now and then, Marguerita would S-P-E-L-L words, that she thought maybe the children shouldn't hear.

I kept telling her, "yeah, um, you don't need to spell. It's okay."

But maybe it was habit.

I don't know.

Anyway, somehow, we started talking about these parties that my parents have.

They have this awesome property on the Gulf of Mexico, and they have great friends, and the friends come over and they have great food and great fun, and if some of the friends have too much fun, well, then they spend the night (DUH! What a smart thing to do! Spend the night rather than drive home drunk, hello!) and then they all have more fun and food at breakfast the next morning.

Sounds like fun, right?

Especially since my parents have worked very hard all of their lives and sacrificed a lot when me and my three brothers were in junior high and high school, and my parents' whole lives revolved around chauffeuring and baseball games and all of our extra-curricular activities, parents never had any friends. Their whole lives were about us kids.

Which I totally understand and appreciate, now that I am a grown up.

So in the past couple of years, when Dirty Diana and Tide Water Ted started to 'get' friends, me and the bros were kinda shocked.

I remember Two-Fisted Chris saying, "Ummm. When did Mom and Dad 'get' FRIENDS?"

It's a family joke, but I think it's great that they have friends.

We have met most of them, and they are delightful people, even if one of them LITERALLY wears a towel on his head and is named JIHAD.

But that's another post for another day.

Back to the birthday party.

So we're talking about these parties my parents have.

And Marguerita's eyes start to bulge out of her head.

And she says to me, "Heather?!?!!! Are your parents S-W-I-N-G-E-R-S?"

And I am dying laughing.

Because, no, they are most definitely NOT S-W-I-N-G-E-R-S.

And as I am laughing, Reilly the Red says:

"Miss Marguerita, why are you spelling the word SWINGERS? I know how to spell, you know. And Jake isn't even listening and doesn't even care."

Thankfully, Reilly the Red didn't ask any more S-W-I-N-G-E-R related questions.

And neither did Marguerita.


Thursday, October 15, 2009

Fire Safety


This week in school, Captain Jake Sparrow is learning about fire safety.

Allegedly, a real, live firefighterfighter (that's what HE calls them) came to his school to talk about fire safety, and about having a fire safety plan in your own house.

So I pick up the Sparrow from school on this particular afternoon, and ask a ridiculous question.

"So Jake, do you have any homework?" (He never has homework. Well, let me put it this way. He very well MAY have homework, but he never says that he does. But I play along with him anyway.)

"Ya Mom, I do."

STUNNED, I reply, "You do? YOU have HOMEWORK?"

"Yep. Sure do."

"What kind of homework?"

"I have to (honest to GOD he said these exact words) DEVELOP a fire safety plan for our family."




Then he told me the firefighterfighter came to his school and talked to his class about fire safety.

And I asked him what he learned.

And here we go with the Jake-ness:

"Mom. If there is a fire in our house, I have to put all my blankets and pillows under the door so they will get all smokey and burnded. And then I have to go upstairs (umm...we don't have an upstairs) and take ALL of my toys and throw them out the window. All of them, Mom, ALL of them. I have to take ALL of my toys and throw them out the window. And then when the firefighterfighters get to our house, I have to stand by the window and scream as loud as I can, "HEY! I'M STILL IN HERE! COME AND GET ME!" And then I might have to jump off the roof and land on my toys if they tell me to."

After I took the required very deep breath so that I wouldn't laugh, I casually reminded him that we didn't have a second floor in our house.

"Ya, Mom, I KNOW that, but if we DID, that's what I would have to do! I still have to throw all my toys out, DUH!"

Thankfully, we already had a fire safety plan put into place when Reilly the Red had this 'real' assignment last year, so Billy Two Swords was able to translate what the firefighterfighters were REALLY trying to tell the Captain, and I think he understands what to do in case of a fire.

Most importantly, the batteries in his smoke alarm got changed THAT night!


Wednesday, October 14, 2009

Deep Throat


So it's bath time once again.

The Captain is perfectly capable of bathing himself, shampooing his hair, and of course, flooding the bathroom floor.

So we let him take his baths or showers by himself, with the bathroom door open, and check on him from time to time.

Sometimes, we let him stay in the tub for 15 or 20 minutes.

Not because he is ever that filthy. No, not because of that.

Because Two Swords and I just might get 15 or 20 minutes of uninterrupted grown-up speak!

Yes, we are terrible parents.

Leaving our child in a bathtub filled with 4" of water and soap for 15 solid minutes.


Ya got me.


Sometimes, the Captain comes up with some very, shall we say, UNIQUE, emergencies.

And by the word emergency, I mean, the need for immediate attention.

And by the words immediate attention, I mean, he just wants to 'see' us.

So here was last night's UNIQUE emergency:

Captain: "COUGH COUGH BLECK BLECK COUGH COUGH" (totally FAKE cough cough, by the way)

Completely unworried mother: "Jake? You okay?"

Captain: "COUGH COUGH BLECK BLECK. I need somebody to come here RIGHT NOW!"

Still completely unworried mother: "Jake? What's up?"

Captain: "You are NOT going to believe it, Mom!"

Still me, unworried: "Jake, what happened? You okay?" (Please note that your suspicions are 100% correct, and my very large butt has not left the couch yet to check on my perhaps drowning son).

Starting to get irate Captain: "MOM! There is WATER in my THROAT!"

Lazy Fat Butt Mother: "Oh. Okay."

(He stopped the fake coughing.)

A few minutes later......

Captain: "MOM! Don't you CARE about ME?"

Me: "Jake of course I care about you. What's wrong?"

Enraged Captain: "Well NOW it's in my BRAIN!"

Me: "Water?"

Enraged Captain: "NO! My THROAT!"

Me: "What?"

Enraged Captain about to abandon ship: "MY THROAT IS IN MY BRAIN!"

Me and Two Swords have not abandoned our posts, and we are just DYING to hear what comes next. Well, here you have it. Please keep in mind, that no, the Sparrow has not coughed nor fake coughed for at least ten minutes.



When I finally picked myself and my fat butt off the floor and traipsed down the hallway to the bathroom, he was sitting in an empty bathtub.

No water.



Tuesday, October 13, 2009



I have a new favorite thing to do.

On Sundays after church, on the very short ride home, I absolutely LOVE to ask the Captain what he learned in Sunday School.

And believe me, friends, you just NEVER know what you're going to get.

As you can tell from the beautiful watercolor drawing and title above, Jake learned about Moses.

This is the Gospel of Moses, According to Captain Jake Sparrow:

Moses was sent upside down, down the river.

There was a flashing tornado.

A storm.

Black rain.

While he was in the river, Moses made himself a Tootsie Roll gun.

'Cuz he knew he was going to be riding around for awhile.

And 'cuz he knew he was going to be hungry.

So he made this cool Tootsie Roll gun and he shot the Tootsie Rolls into his mouth,

every time he was hungry, one at a time.

There were bells playing.

Moses was in a basket.

You see, he was in this basket, because he was a baby.

His Mommy put him there.

There was a mean king. I mean an EVIL, mean King.

You know what EVIL means, Mommy? It means MEAN!

Another lady found Moses in the river.

And you know what?

She was going to be his Mommy again like she was the first time.

And Moses was going to be her son forever.

Ladies and gentlemen, with the exception of adding italics and punctuation, this is the story my four year old son told me about his Moses Sunday School lesson.

And I couldn't be more thrilled!

Heckfire, even if he did add the Tootsie Roll gun!

If I was stuck in a basket for a long ride in a river with a tornado and black rain, I'd probly want some Tootsie Rolls to keep me company, too!

I love the Captain!


Monday, October 12, 2009

Not Me! Monday


Once a month, our fabulously, wonderfully blessed and generous church takes an extra collection called 2 cents a meal.

The concept behind 2 cents a meal, is that each member of your family puts 2 cents a meal aside at every meal that they eat for the month.

Do the math.

It really is pennies for a family of four.

Recently, the children of the congregation have been tasked with carrying the metal buckets and walking through the aisles, acting as offertory ushers.

It is very cute, and it is teaching the little ones so much about giving it up to God.


It seems that Captain Jake Sparrow does NOT take his job as a 'COLLECTOR' very seriously.

Yesterday, when someone did NOT have any money for the bucket, the Captain did NOT obstinately stand there, with one hand on each side of the bucket, and did NOT say:



Not my son.

And then, after he had done all of his 'rounds', Captain Jake Sparrow did NOT utter quite loudly:

"SOMEBODY put a Freakin' CHECK in the money bucket! Can you believe THAT?"

No way.

Not my son.

Could NOT have happened.

Did NOT happen.

There were NO witnesses.

NO one in this house uses the word FREAKIN'.




Monday, October 5, 2009

Not Me Monday!

Last week, I was NOT offically asked if I would take some photos of all of our church members and church family to combine our phone and address directory with photos of our wonderful church family.

Upon receiving this request, I did NOT firmly believe that I was woefully UNprepared for such an adventure.

You see, I am NOT a professional photographer.

I have NEVER taken a photography class in my life.

I do NOT know a shutter from a F stop. Ha. Are they even the same thing? I do NOT even know!

I do NOT have way too much camera than I am entitled to.

My being hornswaggled into such an adventure, NOT withstanding, the other three members of the Fallon Pirate Family did NOT happily assist in any way that they possibly could.

Reilly the Red was NOT excited and enthusiastic about helping to draw the "COME AND GET YOUR PICTURES TAKEN" signs and post them throughout the campus.

Captain Jake Two Swords was NOT greeting people with "Good morning, My mom's taking pictures today. You better get in there!"

Billy Two Swords was NOT as fabulously social and neighborly as always, encouraging people to get their pictures taken, and if some of the ladies balked a bit, he gently reminded them that they had three other Sundays that they could make an appointment to sign up for, so they had plenty of other choices! Two Swords knew his role and he WAS not going to take NO for an answer!

I also have to give Two Swords his props for his oh-so-patient natures while assisting me the hanging of the background drapery.

I was NOT a pain at all in this process.

He was NOT wonderful at ignoring my nonsense, and getting the job done.



The early morning quasi-Olan Mills temporary photo studio was NOT set up in our church libary.

I was NOT scrambling around looking for additional drapery as the drapery I had brought was NOT entirely TOO sheer.

I was NOT nervous at all.

NOooooooooooooooooooo way.

NOT me.

I had NOT shed my heels.

I was NOT bouncing around like a beach ball.

I did NOT lose my cool.

My voice did NOT enter that high-pitched zone that only doberman pinchers can hear.

I was NOT pretending like I actually knew what I was doing.

NOT me.

One of the shots did NOT involve a delightful family of five.

NOT being the greatly, perhaps OVER qualified photographer that I did NOT consider myself to be this fine, Sunday morning, I did NOT make the decision to place Mama and Papa in chairs, with the three adolescent children standing behind them.

One of these very well-behaved, and always kind, and always neighborly adolescent children did NOT happen to be quite tall. If he weren't such a delightful child, I might have referred to him as a giant, but NOPE, he is not a giant, he is a wonderful child, albeit tall.

So I was having difficulty getting THE perfect shot.

You know.

The one.

So I did NOT do it.


NOT me.

NOT in my bare feet.

NOT in my low-rise super long jeans that everybody hates but me.


I did NOT just hop up onto a coffee table that is probably as old as the Ancient Sea Scrolls.

I took five shots.

All of them NOT nearly perfect.

And then.....


Did NOT happen.

I did NOT fall.


Onto the table.

Which then....

Did NOT fall.


And then....

I did NOT fall.


Onto the table.


And the entire time that I was NOT falling, NOT landing, and then NOT falling again, I was NOT thinking:


I did NOT save the camera.


NOT me.

NO way.

NEVER happened.

Thursday, October 1, 2009

Birthday BUTT Jelly


More birthday crap.

You'll like this one though.

Because the young pirates make lots of appearances.

For my birthday, I asked my husband, the great, illustrious, incomparable, irreplaceable Billy Two Swords, if he would take me fishing for my birthday. Just me and him, no kids.

His response?


Two Swords was convinced I had an ulterior motive. Since when would anyone's wife ask to go fishing with her husband on HER birthday, especially Two Swords' wife of all the wives on the planet? That's ludicrous!

Usually I do have an ulterior motive, in his defense.


Not this time.

I like fishing.

I really do.

And I'm good enough at it that I actually bait my own hook, tie my own line, cast by myself, and every now and again, actually catch a damn fish.

But when we take the young Pirates, it can be a menagerie.

Granted, they enjoy CATCHING fish.

They can't stand WAITING to catch fish.

So with a quick call to Dirty Diana (who just happens to live ON the Gulf of Mexico with her husband, my dad, Tide Water Ted) we were headed for a birthday weekend fishing extravaganza.

It began on Friday evening, at the infamous beer and wings joint where Captain Jake Sparrow peed on his own face.

After THAT menagerie, Dirty Diana took the two young pirates to the dollar store (see, I told you it was going to come back to haunt me), to buy presents for Rojo's birthday party on Saturday night.

Sometime before midnight, it was decided that Tide Water Ted was going fishing with us. I was cool with that. Especially since he was letting us use HIS boat. There are going to be many more posts about Tide Water Ted, now that HE has a pirate name, but let me just say this. If you wonder where my OCD comes from, it most definitely comes from Tide Water Ted. He NEVER lets ANYBODY touch ANY of his STUFF. Not his TOOLS. Not his CARS. Not his COFFEE MUGS FROM TEXACO THAT ARE ABOUT 27 YEARS OLD. And especially, NOT HIS BOAT. So of course, Tide Water Ted, PLEASE, come aboard your own boat, and go fishing with me and Two Swords!

Saturday morning, we all got up, and ate the scrumptious biscuits and sausage gravy that Dirty Diana had prepared.

We prayed before we ate.

And then Reilly the Red offered a second prayer:

"Dear God, please don't let Grandma run out of here like a maniac after spending the day with me and Jake. Amen."

Oh how insightful that child is!

Off went the fisherpeople.

We had a great day.

Fish galore.

All kinds of fish.

Mostly fish we couldn't keep, but there were some beautiful specimens, of all different species, shapes, colors, sizes, some of which weren't even in Tide Water Ted's fishing book.

It was a good day.

We returned to port, with one 'keeper'. A fabulous Sea Bass, slayed by Two Swords.

Once it was filleted, it looked about the size of a chicken nugget. Whoa. Now I know why I'm not a professional fisherperson.


My high school BFF Marguerita arrived from St. Pete, just in time for dinner.

Dirty Diana cooked my fayvorite birthday dinner: eye of round roast, homemade mashed potatoes and gravy, french style green beans.


And then we had presents.

Here is the photojournal, taken by Marguerita:

(I'm not sure why they are so small - perhaps it's for YOUR own protection),

Captain Jake Sparrow, STARVING, waiting ever so patiently for his supper.

Dirty Diana, in the midst of preparing the oh-so-fabulous birthday meal.

Billy Two Swords and Tide Water Ted, doing what they do best. 'Nuff said.

Posers, doing what they do best. Showing off.

Reilly the Red and Captain Jake Sparrow, "We ate all our damn supper, now where is our DAMN cake and ice cream already? What the hell?"

Hurricane Rojo making her birthday wish, which she fully disclosed to all who were present and now with all of you,
"I wish that my life will remain as perfectly lovely and blessedly happy as it is right now, right this minute, for ever and ever, Amen."
And then there were a bunch of "Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwws"
And two "Can we have our cake NOW, Grandma? Ugh! We've been WAITING!"

The commencement of the Dollar Store present openings.
Woohoo! Shamwow! Woohoo!

A foam hammer?
Purchased by the Captain?
You mean, I get to play WHACK A MOLE with my own kid?
And HE bought me the WHACKER with his OWN cash?
This is better than Shamwow!

And NO Dollar Store birthday present extravaganza would be complete without a Toucan Sam Froot Loop hat from hell, right?

Thank you, Dirty Diana, for the Ghiardelli chocolate that I have NO intention of sharing with ANYbody, no matter what Captain Sparrow's beleaguered pleading face might lead you to believe.

Side view of the Rojo, opening her crazy gifts, scared to know what has yet to be opened. (with very good reason, as you are about to see in a moment)

Rojo: What is THIS?
Rojo: What is THIS?
Rojo: You're kidding me right?

Dirty Diana: He INSISTED! He said you NEEDED it! He said MY MOM HAS TO HAVE THIS!
Rojo: You're kidding me right?
Reilly the Red: (as you can see in the picture, she is busting a gut, and can't even talk she is laughing so hard.)
Dirty Diana: I SWEAR! I couldn't talk him out of it! He argued with me for about 15 minutes, int the middle of the Dollar Store!
Reilly the Red: (between gasps of laughter) It's true Mom. Grandma is telling the truth.
Rojo: Jake?
Captain: Do you like it Mommy?
Rojo: Jake?
Captain: What?
Rojo: Do you know what this is?
Captain. Yep.
Rojo: What is it?
Captain: Lotion.
Rojo: Jake?
Captain: Yeah, mom?
Rojo: Have you ever seen this kind of lotion in our house?
Captain: Nope. But I know you like lotion.
Rojo: Jake?
Captain: Yeah, Mom?
Rojo: This is not lotion.
Captain: It's not?
Rojo: No, it is not.
(audience, please note that all of the other adults and my 7 year old are laughing so hard that they are CRYING and can't even talk and I am left to deal with this ALL BY MY DAMN SELF)
Captain: What is it, Mom? Cuz I thought it was lotion.
Rojo: Jake. It is BUTT jelly.
Captain: PHAAAAAAAAAAA Butt Jelly!
Rojo: Yes. It is BUTT jelly.
Rojo: When you were a little tiny baby, and I had to take your temperature, I had to stick the thermometer into the BUTT JELLY and then stick it into YOUR BUTT.
Rojo: And sometimes, we had to put our fingers in the butt jelly and then stick our fingers in your BUTT to get the poop to come out.
Rojo: So, Jake, why would you buy your MOTHER BUTT JELLY for her birthday?
Captain: Because you NEEDED lotion!
Rojo: Well what are we going to do with the BUTT JELLY now?
Captain: (with a grossed out face) I dunno.
Rojo: I have a great idea. How about I can start making Peanut BUTTer and BUTT jelly sandwiches for you?

On that note, here is the final picture of the post, and of the most awesomest birthday I have had in 10 years.

This is my 39 year old butt.
Captain Jake Sparrow took the picture.
Another photojournalist in the family.
I must say, after seeing the picture, I was a bit proud of my butt.
My 39 year old, two birthed children, 85 surgery (including one on my BUTT!) butt.
Don't know how long it will look this good, so I decided I'm going to ride this one into the station.
Welcome to my butt, ladies and gentlemen.
Welcome to my butt.