Monthly Archives: August 2010

The Bison

I really love Denver.  

Being from Alabama (and basically still unable to drive in the snow) ….

lots of friends and family were surprised when I announced my plans to move here.

People always say “you guys have strange weather there”

I guess that is true but…

Everyone is fit here and in to the outdoors and we hardly have any bugs (I mean not like those roaches in the South). 

Seriously a palmetto bug … you seen one of those? 

Hell you may have ridden one to work – the things are so bloody big. 

And check this out….

they fly — ACCKK!

SHUT UP!  That is the God’s honest truth

So yes we have weather swings… its all good though… you just basically leave all your clothes out all year round… and you just deal.

What was the topic?

 I don’t even remember

 Oh yea….the bison.

 So I was just moving to Denver.  The one thing I remember from the Chamber of Commerce information was that they showed the demographics with a 5 to 1 men to women ratio.

Hold the Phone! 

Bring the car round…

I am outta here.

Put that on the front page and you’ll have all kinds of women out here.


Never mind…

love the brochure just as it is ….

need no extra competition.


 Okay so again

 – moving here… I am about to move to Denver.

I  was invited to a snowmobiling trip in the mountains.

This sounds fantastic.   I mean a lodge, some UGG’s, a hot toddy, a hot body… oops!

There will be way more men than women…

and I damn sure am not driving a snowmobile….

 so I will have to hold on to one of those cute boys.

 I am about to die I am so excited.

So I call for reservations and to get some more information.

“Hi this is Brenda, how can I help you”

“Hi Brenda..

 I am so excited …

I am coming with a group snowmobiling.

 I am new to this…

never done it before….

Can you give me some information?”

Waiting for Brenda to educate me … but all the while thinking about all the men who will be there.

So Brenda is hooking me up – sets me up with a room. 

She explains the layering systems (which means bring all your clothes from North Carolina and put them on at once)

She stresses the importance of protective eye gear and exposure.  Brenda knows her stuff.

MEN MEN MEN … planning my attack… will have to get those sexy ski pants to sport.

“Well so Brenda… is it dangerous”

“Oh no… you just have to be careful of the python”


“What… are you serious….. a python….way up there? 

How is that possible? 

I mean I hate snakes…

how can they survive in that cold? 

I will absolutely FREAK if I see one…

Are they all over or like in just certain areas?”



I am certain I hear air moving…

and noises…

it almost sounds as if someone is laughing.


 “Hello…. Brenda….are you there?”

 “um… no, no, ma’am, I am still here”

 “Um ma’am…

it’s bison…


not python…

we really don’t have a big issue with reptiles when there is 3 feet of snow on the ground”


 Bison?  Who says Bison… this is not Animal Planet. 

Why don’t you just say “TATANKA”  — geez!              (Dancing with Wolves)

 Would it have killed you to just say buffalo like everyone else?

 … guess I  won’t be needing that snake bite kit.

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Posted by on August 31, 2010 in Animals, Dances With Wolves, Denver



 Today we did something very ambitious… we went to church.

 I don’t think we have been since Tenny has been home with us. 

Actually I know we have not…I just feel less like a heathen when I say I think…

 STRESSFUL – getting two kids up and “church” dressed, not to mention me.

Church dressed for me is a skirt.  Honest to God, I don’t get what people wear to Church in Denver.  Shorts…. hiking shorts… seriously?  I am Southern and we step it up a bit for church … but please.  Yoga tops — now, I do really think that Yoga Top should be put in a shrine of some kind… right next to the Yoga Pant… reigning king… but to Church…    Cough up a little something nice for the man upstairs how ’bout it?

Moving on

But not before a sidebar…. I really have figured out the challenge of single motherhood… it a numbers game.

I am today and always outnumbered…

This is not good…

we all know that…

in life more is better …

almost always. 

More cheese.. ALWAYS better

More jewelry – don’t even need to address this

More money – … duh

More is just better

 So the kids are the “more” part here…  I can’t be in all the places I need to be.  I am considering getting life-size paper dolls of myself, posting them about the house.  I’ll add eyes that move and tape record my voice. 

What do you think?  I may be on to something.  If nothing else, it will make a great Halloween decoration.

 Okay so back to church…

We arrive with 5 minutes to spare.  

Ab-so-damn-lutely amazing.

 I am wearing a brown wrap dress that I paid 20.00 for at Sam’s.  Although when complimented I typically say I got it at Nordstrom ( it is BCBG… so it is possible…kinda..)

 If you know anything about fashion ….a wrap dress is a good thing.  

 Stacy and Clinton love them (I can’t even believe I am actually explaining this but… for the one person who has been on a deserted island for the last 8 years…. they are on What Not To Wear and are the King and Queen of fashion in my eyes).

 I would say that a wrap dress (or wrap shirt for that matter) is a win for anyone really.

 So I am feeling good as we are there and all dressed and not in the YP (yoga pant) for once.

 For Tenny, this church thing is scary,  new folks and smells.  I am walking her around trying to get her to relax in the 4 ½ minutes we have before church.  She is clutching on to me as if  we are about to walk the plank – hugging, fingernails gripping, pulling my dress….

 I am using my best calming voice

“Its okay… you will be okay…”

 I pass the guest pastor – lovely older man (like close to 80).  He appears to have just had his eye dilated… I mean they are huge!    I am thinking this is strange…. I mean who goes to the eye doctor on Sunday… odd.

 I take the girls in to the Sunday school class.  And here again the teacher (Mrs. Peters) has apparently also just had her pupils dilated. I don’t know that I have even seen anyone with eyes so large – it was peculiar – as if she had been startled.

 “Tenny stop pulling my dress… RELAX”


 I know why these people have such big eyes… they are in shock.  Call an EMT.

 I glance down to see that Tenny, in her terror, had pulled my wrap dress completely open and exposed my entire chest (not a good day for a demi-cup).   

 Mrs. Peters… appears to be trying to form a sentence… she is trying to say:
“thank you for showing us all your vital organs”

 Tenny sees candy and releases her clutch. This allows me time to escape to the bathroom to correct my wardrobe malfunction.  

 I am thinking we need to add a disclaimer on any sort of wrap dress/top: 



 Before we even got out the door to church, we sort of had an accident.  I have been telling the girls not to shut the door… someone will get hurt.

 And here we are again – proving my psychic abilities.

 So Landon shuts the door

            I should say slams… for about the 7th time this morning. I am ticked…

 Stomping in to the room – “WHAT are you doing?”

 Well I guess I should have announced my entry in to the room…

because I whacked little miss Landon dead in the middle of the forehead…

such that I could see the doorknob imprint on her head.        

There goes my mother of the year award.    

 OMG  OMG OMG    (OMG should really just be my middle name)

 Seriously…. I cannot believe this.  I am trying to get to church to CENTER myself – but I may commit a double homicide before I can get out the door.

 So we count fingers…  (“How many fingers am I holding up Landon?”)

do the icepack thing…

watch for sleepy behavior …

she seems okay… we will brave the walk across the street to church….

(and yes all this just to get across the street to CHURCH) 

After I am adjusted, I go back to Sunday School to see Mrs. Peters apparently recovering but still fanning herself.  

“Oh… can you keep an eye Landon for a bit…

I sort of gave her a mild concussion this morning… 

she is okay…

but come get me if she starts to sway”

 I go in the sanctuary… I believe I was added to the top and bottom of the prayer list (perhaps all those in between too)

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Posted by on August 29, 2010 in Uncategorized


The Remains of the Prey

Today was a normal crazy Ozley morning.  We  are getting ready for school and there is a commotion.

 GREAT  … the girls are fighting again…

Oh… they are on the couch … together…they look like little cherubs…. 

 I hear growling and hissing. 

             Say it is not so…. sweet mother….

There is a mouse in the house.

The Alpha cat Clyde had it hidden in his mouth when I let him in.

             I do not get this and have a number of conversations with Clyde. 

 “Why can’t you leave them alone?  I feed you good food”

 I have noticed a direct correlation in the increased consumption of live prey with the introduction of healthy cat food (not laden with sugar).

 “And at the very least if you are going to eat it can’t you just do it quick and outside as a sort of Circle of Life kind of thing”

 I get, as you would expect, the same response from him as I do with my children when rendering these heartfelt conversations – NOTHING!

 I hate hate hate mice – not sure why… they are tiny and quick and unpredictable – much like toddlers – hmmmm Freudian?

 I just really am a freak about them; and, they transport me right back to my infancy.  

 I know it’s a mouse… I don’t even have to see it. Clyde is scampering all over the place.  And at 24 pounds he moves for a siren and food…. Nothing else.

 OMG there it is.  It escaped his grasp and is coming straight at me…

 all 2.1 inches of it. 

It is going to kill me …

infect with some undiscovered virus …

at least will leave me permanently disfigured….

 OMG      OMG     OMG


‘it’s a mouse….its a mouse…. he has a mouse…. AKKKKKKKKK.”

 And then I am running in my nightgown…. Mascara on only one eye… “ACCKKK”

 Landon….  “you top it mouse…you leave my Mommy alone…..don’t you be mean to my Mommy”

 Okay that is cute right and ….and…. so sad.

 Oh Thank God… Clyde has it… I guess I can get off the chair now…..

 I watch in horror as Clyde torments his victim.  It’s awful. 

Tap, tap, tap, I’ll let you move a bit… then tap, tap, tap.  


 This entire process is a little like watching men mating. 

Come closer…

I like you…

I don’t…

I can’t breathe…

I must have you…

go away.

 All the while this dance goes on I am screaming….

“I told you mice to stay away”


 So this mouse is in the house and mobile.  I am also mobile – running like a freaky teenager after the Jonas brothers. 

 … “he will eat you…. I am a vegetarian… but he is NOT…”

 …ACKKKK!  Now he is running again…. Towards me…. in to the bathroom… acck! 

I slipped… back up again…

 He is under the TV now…  chest heaving…. it’s okay… breathe…

             Where are my children during all of this hysteria you ask?

            I have no idea…. I am just trying to survive people….


 He is in the bathroom now….

 How in God’s name am I going to get ready?

I am certainly not going in THERE

 All the while this chaos is underway, I am not paying attention to the little peeps.  I hear a bit of a crash.  Dear God – what now?

 Seriously… this cannot be happening  #2 child has pulled a placemat off the table.  Not really a big deal in and of itself.. except that it had a bowl of fruitloops on it…

 So now the bowl is on her head.  Moving it you get a sort of a wet colorful cornrow type of effect…

Snoop Tenny I guess we call her now.

 We are late and we have to go. I will just wear a hat and my Jackie O glasses to hide the one eye without mascara.  I am having heart palpitations all the way to school.

Kids inside… Landon tells all her teachers how there was a HUGE mouse (arms outstretched perhaps the size of large beachball)…. “and mommy so creaming….”

Children deposited at school…. Pulling in driveway

The mouse…


still …

in there…

Breathing…balance the chakras..

I will know what the status is as I hit the door….

If I find my boy Clyde calm with belly exposed to the ceiling…

I will know…

that the mouse is no longer with us…

He has met his maker and is now calm and seated quietly in Heaven’s cheese room. 

And it will be confirmed when I find the remains of the prey under the dining room table.

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Posted by on August 27, 2010 in Animals, Cats


On Equal Ground?

Hi All,

I saw this article recently — fascinating.  It’s about how men who make less than their wives cheat.  Read on… I think you will be surprised.

The economic news for young women recently has been bright. Several studies have suggested that women under 30 who live in cities and work in industries that require a college education are earning more than their male peers, on average.

But ….now comes that irritating old other shoe: another new study has found that women who make more money than their men are more likely to be cheated on.

The study was presented by Christine Munsch a sociology Ph.D. candidate at Cornell University.  She found that men who were completely dependent on their wives’ incomes were five times likelier to cheat than those who contributed the same amount to the household finances.

Munsch believes this is not actually about money, but about men’s feelings of sexual identity. “”Being a man is strongly identified with being a breadwinner.” Men might engage in “hypermasculine activities” — displaying their sexual virility or sexual competence — as a form of compensatory behavior.   Hello Jesse James

Many psychologists and therapists believe that men more often cheat as an escape from their own lives or selves, rather than because they are dissatisfied with their partners — and one of the things they might want to escape from is the feeling of financial inferiority.   


At the other end of the spectrum, men who make a lot more money than their wives are also more inclined to cheat. While non-earning men cheat because they are unhappy, higher earning men cheat because … they can. 

Let’s give it up for Mr. Clinton and Tiger here

The men least likely to cheat had partners who made 75% of what they made. This is what’s called a silver lining.   

We may have to add a question on this very topic to eHarmony – to ensure relationship success.

As for women, income disparity works in the opposite way: those who make less than their men or who aren’t breadwinners at all were much less likely to cheat than those who made more. “For women, making less money than a male partner is not threatening, it is the status quo,” she says.

ACCCKKK! This makes me want to smack someone…. HARD

So folks… I did ponder on this for a bit.  Not typically what I would call a feminist; but, this did ruffle my feathers.  

So now Elin is dumping Tiger (you go girl!)

And…oh… bless his heart…. He struggles with sexual addiction…

Pausing …. Roll of nausea coming on….

            Okay better now.

Had the situation been reversed and She the cheater well…. How might that story have been reported:

Swedish bimbo cheats on dedicated father and superior golfer athlete (pillar of the community, Church deacon and volunteer for Special Olympics). 

X-model (a.k.a TRAMP) is rumored to have been inappropriately dressed (wearing a halter dress in ….Florida… shameless hussy …and a variety of  tube tops).  Also seen entertaining many confirmed “bad boys”…. twice caught in a compromising position outside the Piggy Wiggly.   

Questions as to her ability as a mother are also raised. 

We ask for your prayers during this trying time for our saintly Tiger”


We still see Tiger’s mug on various cereal boxes and as the Nike’s spokesperson.

Go figure………………….,8599,2012343,00.html — full article if you are interested

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Posted by on August 26, 2010 in Earnings, Tiger Woods


Mistaken Identity?

As I was leaving the resort, I ran into a really nice couple. We actually shared the bus ride back to the airport.  

 I am reading and minding my own business when the man says:

“Okay I am just going to say it… do you know who Andrea Mitchell is?  Well,  you look like her.  Anyone ever tell you that”

            Ah ….no one still living…

 Here is a little tip… unless the person you are telling the other person they look like is very attractive… don’t share it… just take a little time and… HOLD THAT THOUGHT.  

 Okay back on topic…                            

 Cutting him a look …

“Indeed I do … she is like over 60 I believe”

                        Actually born in 1946, verified online.

 “I mean… you now… if she had a younger good-looking sister”.

 Still not happy… and I can tell you this wife was not.

 The only good thing about the Andrea comparison is that she is smart and her 107 year old husband (Mr. Greenspan) has some serious dinero.  

 Then this man says:

“The other thing I thought when I first saw you is…. Julie Roberts…that might be her with your hair and everything…. Then you stood up and I am thinking… oh no…she is too short.”


A cross between Andrea Mitchell and Julia Roberts.  That is like saying you look like Mr. T and John McCain. 

I mean….. come on.      

I can deduce only one thing… this man was stoned or needs to be stoned.

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Posted by on August 24, 2010 in Julia Roberts, spa


A little escape

Okay so I took a little trip for myself to Miraval.  I really think they need to change the name to Miracle.  It is the bomb! 

If you have never heard of it… what do you like live under a rock or something?  You seriously need to do  yourself a favor and go to their website right now:

It’s a spa/resort sort of place.  The food is TO DIE FOR.  Tons of exercise and yoga classes.  Facials. Massages.  Relaxation.  So divine!  I NEEDED a break. 

It is not a place to meet men… although I did see more this time.  I am pretty sure the men were dragged here kicking and screaming by their wives who will be forced (in retribution) to endure a camping or fishing excursion of some sort.

I am totally convinced that God is everywhere (or the Universe… whatever works best for you) but…. I sincerely think if He was going to pick a place to cop a squat… it would be right here at Miraval.

Let me tell you about my massage therapist — Jeff. 

I am keeping him…

I think I am entitled. 

He (Jeff… my Jeff…) has the hands of a very hot muscle-bound angel. 

Angels can be hot… don’t you think?

Also…he has seen most of my body and did not even throw up.

His wife is a psychic reader at Miraval… so she is probably on to my little plan…..DAMNIT

He gave me such a great massage.   At the end of it, he put hot wet towels on my feet … I nearly pee’d on the table. 

This place is very peaceful… very spiritual.  It is also a place for …. rich people.   I mean I got a good deal ….it is so damn not here — you can totally fry your tootsies on the pavement — not everyone wants to melt… hence the good deal.   Many of these rich women have had a significant amount of surgical assistance if you know what I mean. 

Their mouths all looked stretched out in an unnatural smile … permanent and wrinkle free of course.   They look like cats.. I am telling you.. they do.

I know what a big cat looks like — my boy Clyde topped out at 26 pounds. 

One of these Botox Barbies was at my lunch table and overheard me telling another woman about my girls.   

Well…… GET THIS…. she says…

“how did you make the decision to have kids over a man?”


What again?

How do you answer? Don’t make me go all Britney Spears crazy on your ass….. 

I tell her “I didn’t decide NOT to have a man”  (in the movie there will be subtitles with BITCH under her head) — “I decided I wanted children and to do something about it.   And you know… I fully intend to have a really HOT husband.” 

Pivot… turn..  hmmph!

I hate her and she must be eliminated.

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Posted by on August 22, 2010 in Cats, Exercise


The Dawdle-Meister

Why is it that no matter how early we get up… we cannot get out the door on time?    It’s as if toddlers have like four speeds —


 Mo’ Slow

Dead standstill

or running like hell away from you 

All of them make me NUTS, but for today’s enlightening post I shall focus on the first three …. all can and are characterized as the DAWDLE.  Landon is The Dawdle-Meister.

Trying to get out the door for school — 7:30 a.m.

“Landon time for school”

“No Mommy I want watch a movie”

dawdle dawdle dawdle

“Honey… its time to get ready…come on”

“Mommy my tummy hurts”

“Do you need to go potty?”

Collapse to floor for dramatic effect.

“Honey come on… it will be fine…. you need to poop; you will feel better”  (I swear I feel that I talk about poop and bodily functions more than my OB/GYN … it is really ridiculous)

dawdle dawdle dawdle

Offering my hand for assistance… Landon taking with some struggle… adding extended moan to exaggerate situation.   She uses the wall to brace herself — attempting to get up.  Falls due to lack of quad strength and moans:

“My tummy ….. my tummy…. I not feeling well”

Through much encouragement and frankly some bribing, I get her dressed and we are making it to the kitchen.  It is 8:01 a.m.  She is to be at school in 29 minutes.

7 steps in to the kitchen.

“I need my princess shoes Mommy– they make me bootiful”

“Honey they are too big; you will fall”

dawdle dawdle dawdle

2nd dramatic portrayal of a toddler on the verge of a nervous breakdown.   Flailing, tears (sobs really) catching breath or attempting too (all the while I am fighting this and sweating).  It is 8:06 a.m.

We are 3 feet from the back door…. I think I can see the sun beneath it… this is the light at the end of the tunnel I have heard about.

8:11 a.m. — we are 15 inches from the back door … reaching for the handle.

“Mommy I need my big baby”  


This is the most hideous doll.  Landon refuses to dress her so she is filthy and is hard plastic in some parts,  soft stuffed fabric in others.  I call her Big Naked Baby (BNB).    I hate her.    She makes sucking noses with her bottle, bats her eyelashes and makes breathing noises when you lay her flat. It’s freaky…sort of … The Call Is Coming From Inside The House kind of thing.

“Where is the doll?”

“Mommy I no know….. you find it….. I NEED her”


All the while Tennyson is looking at us in wonder of  just what she has gotten herself in to.

I find BNB under the blocks and a blanket.  It is 8:16 a.m.  We are going to be late.  AGAIN… 

dawdle dawdle dawdle

2 children strapped in and ready to go. 

 I am wondering, as I pull out the driveway, if this is the way Carol Brady started….

you know…

                  before she married her gay husband.


Posted by on August 20, 2010 in Uncategorized