Molly Goatwax

New Resource

For those among us who have suffered from the stigma of having a third nipple (I'm not sayin' nothin), I have finally found a support site. I find the section on career guidance especially helpful.

Oh, so busy!

I'm pausing between laundry, groceries, packing boxes ( I finished up the pink limoges last night! ) now Hubby and I are off to see Mother and the sisters-in-town, then to see my stepfather as he's been moved to another facility. It's sad that after heaven and earth were moved for them to share a hospital room they have to spend a few weeks apart at this stage, I hope they can hold out for the double room at the hospice. After that we have to stop by their house to assess the task of organizing it. Hubby's been working on the zoning board petition for the dentistry we have under contract* and procurring a furnace for a little house we rent out. On top of all this I have to assemble the materials for my collage workshop/demonstration at the Visionary Museum. I'm thinking, sometime this spring I'll have a little time to myself.

*I was telling my sisters about the dentistry and Mother boasted to them on my behalf that it has an eight spot parking lot. Parking in that area gets very tight. I think it has eleven spots, but I didn't say anything. Maybe I'll start collecting junkers and tick off the yuppie neighbors.

Goat Therapy

Photo by Glen Hartong/ Cincinnatti Inquirer

Here is a noteworthy, suitable for framing, photograph of a boy jumping on a trampoline with one of his pet goats, both of whom help him manage his ADHD by giving him focus and companionship as well as cooking him pancakes and driving him to school. Uh...no. That's walk him to the bus stop. They don't, any of them, drive yet. The article linked reports that the boy's miracle healing goats ( The goat pictured is named Blessing.) are facing eviction by the local zoning board because the neighbors on this quiet suburban cul-de-sac are complaining. The family is taking the position that their differently abled son and his companion animals are being discriminated against. Hmm..as a homeowner whose neighbor once kept a rather large pig in the tiny cement yard of a Remington rowhome, I say that if they kept the animals and yard quiet and tidy, I wouldn't mind looking out the window to see a goat jumping around on a trampoline. Or helping the boy fix the lawnmower and finish his homework.

Rah Rah

Morgan University has an award winning marching band. The percussion section is phenomenal. I know this because I live on a hill a mile away and I can hear them practice. Drum roll please.

Chock Full O'Nuts

As the dawn broke I approached the edge of the abyss of insanity; it wasn't a shoelace nor a straw breaking the camel's back, it was being unable to find the coffee and the filters after the older daughter's kitchen cleaning. There I was, breaking into a cold sweat as I pondered driving to get some (no time) or going without and being first fuzzy headed, then headachey. I kept returning to the kitchen, unable in my addiction to accept withdrawal, clawing and tearing the cabinets apart ready to settle for some crummy flavored gift coffee until I remembered that I had thrown them out. By this time it was quarter of six and I was ready to call my daughter's cell phone to chew her out in my despair when I came across an unopened can of all purpose grind. (Was a snake woulda bit me.) Still no filters. After more digging I unearthed the one cup camping dripolator that I keep for such emergencies and within ten minutes my fix was steaming. Such a struggle. Don't tell Hubby I put corn syrup in his because there was no sugar...

Sweets

This morning as I rushed about trying to get the nine year old in order for the commute, I paused to take a whiff of the bag 'o treats she collected last night.  I was automatically transported back in time, as I am every year when I huff the kids' candy. There really is nothing like the smell of Halloween candy. No candy bowl in any office ever has that complicated mix of aromas; chocolate, peanuts, artificial fruit scents, a hint of mint and the powdery smell of cheap bubble gum...a little cinnamon...licorice...ummm. I grabbed a handful and shoved it in my pocket, ignoring her protests and on the way to school she ignored my protests as she turned several candy crab cake sandwiches into modeling clay before she ate them. "Wash your hands!" I admonished, gagging, as she hopped out the car at school. She promised she would, but I expect she'll be quite scummy looking this evening.