Not Political, I swear.

I have written and deleted so many political posts recently.  I am really hesitant to post much about this election because I am feeling so put off by many of MY favorite bloggers.  It seems that if you don’t agree with the blogger, then you are stupid, or uneducated.  I have been made to feel defensive and just plain pissed off at many blogs who I used to check everyday.  It has gotten so bad, that I am getting ready to do some major editing on my blog roll.

This does not mean that I have no political opinion, and I probably will post something at some point, but that is not going to happen today.   Instead we have a post about baby names–sure they are the baby names of a potential Vice President, but this is not about the person or her beliefs but her choice of monikers for her five kids.  Track (named because of the whole family’s involvement in track and field sports), Bristol, (named for commercial fishing area, Bristol Bay),  Willow (a community in Alaska), Piper, (because “It’s a cool name.”), and finally little Trig (a Norse name meaning strength.).

Presenting the Sarah Palin Baby Name generator.  My name is Drill Swollen Palin, The Husband is Shank Piston Palin, and The Son is Rock Crane Palin.  Post your Palin name in the comments section, The Drill commands you!

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The Pink Suit.

It was a stunning day. The sky was crystal blue, and the air was crisp enough you could tell fall was coming, but still warm enough to wear sandals. I was a senior at the State University, majoring in Political Science and Speech Communications. I had landed a Poli-Sci student’s dream job of working part time for our Senior U.S. Senator. I mostly responded to letters, answered the phone, and forwarded people to more experienced case workers for help. That morning I was getting ready for my first class of the day, an upper level one with the name of National Defense. It was an interesting class with my favorite professor. I was in a good mood though tired, having been up late talking to my new boyfriend. I turned on the Today Show to see what Katie had for me, and remember noting how much I loved her pink suit she had on. It was a perfect color, bright without being Pepto, and a classic cut. She inspired me to wear my own pink suit to work later that day, I laid it out, and put on capris to hike across campus. I sat down on the foot of my bed to fasten my sandals when they broke in on the fluff piece they had been covering.

A plane had hit the World Trade Center moments ago. They started showing live coverage and Katie Couric was talking in the background. I remember being concerned, but my thoughts echoed hers…..what a terrible mistake. Was an overworked air traffic control tower operator to blame? I was sad, but kept getting ready for class.

Then I heard Katie Couric gasp. I glanced up just in time to see…and wish that I had not looked. The second plane. The second tower. I had to leave for class just as I heard them say what I was already thinking. This had to be the work of terrorists. I heard students laughing all over campus–they had not heard yet.

The Political Science department was another story. Ever on top of current events, my peers had seen it all from the ancient tv in the graduate lounge (the PoliTiki Lounge). We all sat silently waiting for class to start, someone’s radio blaring in the background, burning through my ears into my brain. People were jumping to their certain deaths. The tower fell. Rescue workers rushing in. The second tower fell. My professor sent us home and told us today’s assignment was to witness history. I walked back to my apartment thinking how cruel it was for the sky to be so beautiful.

When I got back to my college owned apartment I turned back on Katie Couric just in time to see her interviewing that bald guy from MSNBC, you know– the finance guy. He was covered in ash and soot and you could tell he was shaking. Katie had changed out of her lovely pink suit and was wearing a somber black one.

I hung my pink suit back in the closet and pulled on a navy blue shirt and drab skirt. I then went to work at the Federal Building, where I was searched by the security guards for the first time. All day, all week, all year I answered calls of outraged constituents. “Bomb them!” “Kill them!” “Revenge!” “They must pay!”.

My pink suit stayed in the closet for the rest of the year.

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I missed getting the below posted on 9/11, and contemplated saving it until next year, however I think it deserves to be shared now. The following is from The Neighbor and below that is a link for us all to watch. Please share your own memories in the comments section. Thanks.

I don’t know if you have a topic already for today, or if you’re interested in one, but I’ve attached some pics I took earlier this year from Ground Zero and the area if they can be of use. It really changes your perspective on the events seeing it in person.

The metal cross in the middle picture is from inside one of the towers and is exactly how it was found, in a cross shape. We were fortunate enough to have one of the foremen of the building site come talk to us and he told us the story. The glass case sitting on the cross contains two baseballs and he said the father of a son who was killed in the towers climbed the cross and put the baseballs on it as a tribute to his son. They are autographed by, I think he said, Mickey Mantle and someone else in that era. Very valuable. I asked how they kept people from stealing them and he said that if anyone ever tried to steal them, the police wouldn’t have to be involved because the city would hunt them down and kill them. Apparently, the WTC site and memorabilia, etc. is respected by everyone, including the thugs. The cross also served as a place of prayer and mass for the recovery workers throughout the months after the attack.

Thanks for sharing The Neighbor. I am not sure how I feel about us always hunting down the thugs. Can we live the rest of our lives shouting “Bomb Them!” “Kill them!” “Revenge!” “They must pay!”? I don’t know, I just know that it is time for us to stop being afraid. click here and turn up the volume

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Oh, Snap!

The Huckablogs are spending a couple of days with the elder Huckablogs at their country compound in picturesque Middle of Nowhere. I tried to post last night, but the only computer available hadabrokenspacekey. Very.VERY.ANNOYING. Going through internet withdrawal, I swiped MMIL’s work laptop to get my daily fix. Must have email. Must have email, ahhh, spam, that’s the stuff.

Last night we went to the Middle of Nowhere County Fair…..and…..I got hit on by a Carney. Yes, the 400 pound man wearing a greasy t-shirt with the sleeves cut off and hairy arms thought I still had IT. I tried to hand him my four fuschia tickets so that I could ride the Cobra all by myself. (I am the only Huckablog who will ride anything fun. Yet. I had to give birth to my own roller coaster buddy, but he is a little wee just yet.) So Mr. Carney leaned in real close to me as he helped me in to the spinning bucket of death and said, “Honey, keep your tickets. This ride is on me and you can ride all you want.” Um. ewww. Did I mention that The Husband, The Son, MMIL and FFIL were like fifteen feet away watching from the side lines? Smelly Mr. Carney then made the ride go backwards….for a really, really, REALLY long time. I stumbled out of the SBoD (spinning bucket of death) on my own so he would not try to help me down. The Husband did not seem at all jealous when I told him about my new admirer. He laughed at me instead. I tried to tell him about the Taco Bell employee who gave me a free fruit freezee thing because I was “working it.”, but it seems that he does not feel threatened by carneys or teenage fast food employees. (Please do not send me emails about how your Daddy is a Carney and he has sleeves and works triple shifts to put you through Wellesley or something. I get it. Carneys are people too.) I felt really sick (maybe from the half a fair eggroll? Or the half a fair barbeque sandwich? Or the half a cold fair hot dog?) after the SBoD ride, so I shared my grape sno-cone with The Son and we went back to the compound.

Oh speaking of The Son, it seems when you go to the fair with your Gigi and Pappaw, you get to ride what ever you want. He rode an alligator shaped kiddie coaster, spinning ladybugs, a sparkly,  wheelie-popping motorcycle, and a rotating Jeep. I went to strap him into the Jeep, and the seat belt (you are going to think I am exaggerating here, but this is the truth, I swear!) was half a bungee cord, and the other half was one side of the blue seat belt from a Wal-Mart shopping cart. It still had Wal-Mart imprinted on the faded fabric strap. I was then supposed to tie the two parts together around my precious only child’s abdomen. Yeah right. I asked the skinny, Lucky smoking carney if I could ride with The Son and he said, “if you think you can.” I wedged into the “back seat”  (really that would be ten inch fiberglass wide spot)of the toddler sized Jeep, hung on with one arm, leaned forward and held The Son tight with the other. With a creak and the three non-burnt out bulbs flashing, we jerked forward, and I slipped deeper into the “seat”. It spun, and spun, and went entirely too fast for a kiddie ride, and I was extremely grateful when the ride ended.

Last night I stayed up way late enjoying my in-laws DISH. I watched Project Runway, The Rachel Zoe project, Top Design, and then some show about a scary British hair stylist. I stumbled to bed at two or three AM, and then this morning went to the Middle of Nowhere County fair parade with The Son and MMIL. He loved it; fire trucks, horses, floats, bands, and beauty queens–what is not to like? Actually, I enjoyed myself too, I love doing stuff like that. On the way back to the compound, about twenty minutes away, I realized that we had forgotten to pick up The Son’s pictures (stay tuned for those) we had taken! When I brought this to MMIL’s attention her response was “OH, CRAP!”. Immediately The Son said, “OH, CRAP!” Great. Now my baby knows a PG-13 word. Always the quick thinking educator, she said, “Gigi said OH, SNAP! Can you say OH, SNAP?” So for the rest of the day we said, “Oh, Snap!” whenever crap would have been appropriate. I am not entirely sure that The Son bought it, but he has not repeated “Oh, Crap” again. He is probably waiting until he is at church in front of my eighty year old grandmother. It’s okay, MMIL. My Mom accidentally taught him “shut up” while yelling at her dogs.
Can you hear my Mom somewhere moaning about what I post online? “Oh, SNAP!”

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Time to start the therapy fund.

Now that The Son is two, he gets to watch one video a day. This morning it was Happy Feet. Singing, dancing, adorable penguins, and a conservation message without being preachy. Awesome. Plus? It does not make Mama want to stab a pencil in her ears. I am looking at you Elmo!

Everything was going along swimmingly. We were dancing along with Mumble, singing along with Memphis and Norma Jean, and occasionally coloring. All of a sudden….SPLASH! SPLASH! SPLASHEDYSPLASHSPLASH! All of the penguins jump in the ocean for the first time to find dinner on their own. The Son starts to SCREAM. He cries huge crocodile tears. He hides his face in my shoulder. I ask what is wrong? Does something hurt? What happened? He keeps pointing at the swimming penguins and screaming. I see an animated penguin with a freshly caught fish in his mouth….and figured out the problem.

Yesterday’s movie was Finding Nemo.

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Paperwork

Alternate title: Hey You cannot make up her mind. Do it for her, please.

I have a new company interested in doing some advertising here, maybe even one that pays more than half a rupee per click of an ad..also maybe I will have more ads that pertain to my readers instead of how to get a 13yr old Asian Bride FedEx’d to you. (I think I got that one deleted finally. Watch it pop back up now.) This new company wants me to pick my FIVE best posts to be used to spread the word of TheHuckablog to other blogs they advertise with. Hmm. Well, that is kinda subjective, don’t ya think?

Most blogs have a tone. They are either all hilarity with some snark thrown in, or a run of the mill, here-is-what-we-did-today diary type blog, or they could be all let-me-vent-my-raw-weeping-emotional- wounds all over the Internet. Some are political. Some focus just on pop culture. Mine? Has ADD. Would you pretty please tell me what five posts in the past nine months you have liked the most? Have you liked any? Do you come just to see cute pictures of The Son? That is okay, just let me know so I can get an idea of how I should spin this to the new guys.

Now for something more fun. Not that reading my archives isn’t fun. It is super-duper fun (*waving* Hi Nice Advertising Ladies!). I am a planner. I usually have things like birthday parties (pictures are coming soon, I promise), and Christmas presents planned months in advance. Something I have not been planning? The Annual Halloween bash. We have had a Huckablog Halloween Party every year for six years. (Before I was even a Huckablog yet!), and this year….I am thinking seriously about skipping it. Last year’s was kinda lame, and no one wanted to play my Halloween inspired games (a party MUST have GAMES people! They are to a party like what the five jars of pickles are to your fridge. Unnecessary, but it would be empty without them.) Also, the day I had kinda thought about having it is the same day as the birthday party of one of our good friend’s son, and I do not want to miss that, or make our mutual friends choose who’s party to attend. If we are partyless then that means I get to take The Son to all of the cool hayrides, and carnivals, and Boo at the Zoo, and all of the other wonderful seasonal stuff without worrying about when I am going to find time to clean, and cook, and come up with costumes for everybody. Just he will need a costume. (I will probably throw on an old one to take him Trick-or-Treating). The theme for his costume this year is free! So I have scavenged around looking for him a creative costume that just also happens to be free, and I have come up with FOUR possibilities. Please, dear Internet, make a decision for me.

1. A cave boy. I have the fabric to make him a little cave boy dress thing, already own a rubber squeaky cave man club, and this would be easy to add clothes to or take away layers to prepare for our capricious weather. Also? I already have a cavewoman dress from a past Halloween that I could wear to take him out. Cons: I must make his dress, he would be wearing a dress.

2. A cowboy. He has an old fringed leather vest that was his daddy’s from his old Halloween costume. He has jeans, a cowboy hat, a plaid shirt, and a hobby horse. I think I could borrow some boots from someone. Cons: It might be hot, I would end up carrying around the horse, he has a poor track record with wearing hats.

3. An engineer (train, not mechanical). He loves Thomas. He has an engineer’s hat, overalls, and a bandanna, and some plastic tools. Cons: If it was cold and he had to wear a coat and then took off his hat, no one would be able to tell what he was supposed to be. I am sick of Thomas.

4. A park ranger: My dad bought him a really, really cute outfit at a local state park. It is a khaki shirt that says park ranger on it, and has a patch from our state parks system on the arm. It also has olive pleated shorts with a ranger’s belt. I thought I could stick rubber snakes, frogs, and lizards in his pockets, or pin them to his shirt. I also think I could find him a pith helmet somewhere. One more pro: It would make my dad really happy to know he picked out The Son’s costume. Cons: If it is cold, then all I could do without covering up the costume is to put long johns on underneath it, I have not actually tried this on him yet, and it may be a little big still.

Okay, what do you think? For his first Halloween he was a monkey, and last year he was a spider if that makes a difference to you for some reason.

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Let them eat cake.

Today I found out that the world’s best cake lady, Stacey, has been reading TheHuckablog! She has done almost every cake we have needed for the past three years or so, and does the best work I have EVER seen.  I can’t link to her site because it would be like not only telling what town we live in, but handing you a map.  So if you think you live in my area and you want her info, email me and I will give it to you. Er, I did not ask her before just posting that, so if she is all like “Whaa? I do not want to be bombarded with cake requests from Hey You’s readers!” I will not give you her contact information.

Here are a couple of my favorite cakes she has done for me.  The first is for my SIL’s trashy lingerie shower, and the second is from The Son’s baptism.  Now, that is range people.

We had The Son’s 2nd birthday party today, and I did not take a single picture. Other people did though, so as soon as I collect them from other people’s cameras I will post them. Stacey made The Son a Poky Little Puppy cake, and it is my favorite cake she has ever done for us. A large portion of cake was eaten at the party, but we still had a good chunk to bring home. I cut some for BIL, and for MMIL and FFIL to take to their various abodes, and left the rest sitting on our bar. The Son asked for some at 8:30, right before bed, so of course I said no. We were all sitting around talking before people went home, and we hear a thud from the kitchen. That little monkey reached up and pulled the cake off of the bar. It was face down on the floor, and he was grabbing handfuls of cake and shoving them in his face. Good thing we all had our fill at the party.

The following site is quite possibly one of the funniest sites on the internet, and that is saying something, because I have seen a lot of funny crap on the internet people. Cake Wrecks is a must read. I insist you go to this site and look at every single picture. Remember how you thought this was funny? Yeah, that, only better. Today my stomach is sore because Shoeshe and I laughed so hard last night while looking at the site. My favorite is the High Heel/High Hill cake. Oh, and the fireman! No, it has to be the Braveheart cake. Oh, and the bride! Never mind. The whole site is awesome. Stacey, you will never have to worry about seeing one of your cakes here.

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I am the Walrus. Coo-Coo, KaZOO!

I am not really a walrus.  In fact there are no walruses (walrusi?), or any kind of sea mammals anywhere in this post, I just like the title.  You know me, anything for a Beatles reference.   We had been planning on going to the zoo for several weeks, and the day we had planned to go dawned cool (for August in the South anyway), cloudy, and gloomy.  We decided to go anyway and were joined by the last minute addition of MMIL and BIL!  It was awesome because the zoo was practically empty of annoying people. (Although there was this one lady who kept screaming at her kids and was not wearing a bra, and she REALLY needed a bra.  She could have tripped on those things.  Did I ever tell you about the waitress at the restaurant we always went to in college who never wore a bra?  We had to duck when she passed out our food.  Remember her Cat? Tark?) What was I talking about again? Oh yeah, the zoo.

So anyway, I have been holding on to the pictures that we took the day we went to the Capital City Zoo for three weeks now just waiting to be inspired to write a post about them.  It turns out that looking at other people’s zoo pictures is boring.   So I made a silent, short film instead.  Cannes here I come!
Enjoy.

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