We're at odds, Piper and I, over which of the annoying living creatures we are forced to live with deserves mercy and which deserve to be crushed or tossed.  I say, "DOWN WITH THE SNAILS!" She says, "No! Snails can't defend themselves! You should catch and release!"  Catch and release my ass!!  Those little F'ckers are feasting on my plants!  They're killing my babies!!!  I "removed" 13 of the slimy bastards just tonight alone from my porch.  And last night there were 7!! I tossed the little creeps hard across the street into the Critter Control (yes, that's a for real business) lot. Can't bring myself to stomp on them - can't handle the crunch, squirm, and ooze that follows.  The last time I was at the hardware/nursery store two weeks ago, I checked on methods of SNAIL CONTROL.  Of course the most humane option was also the most expensive.  Well, I've had it.  I'm ready to poison the gross, nasty, murderous pests.  Pip can just deal.  This weekend I shall become The Snail Death Squad of One!!!  There are also two plants out there on my porch amongst the living and producing, that are not doing their jobs.  They don't flower anymore. They're wilted and no matter what I've tried, they won't revive. However they show enough green Pip champions their right to life.  I want to toss them.  But now, thanks to Piper, every time I've carried them to the dumpster (which has been no fewer than five times), I hear her voice - "but there's still a little life left, they're fighters, how can you kill a living thing?"  And how can I kill a fighter?  "Viva la Fighters!" is one of our family creeds.  Uuugghhh!!!  Damn.  And I've turned right around and brought them back to the porch and threatened them with tough love - straighten up, or it's adios Muchacho's! They don't respond any better than my children did to my threats!! 

"Honey are you for reeeeeeal?" I'd heard it but didn't realize the words were intended for my ears until a nice looking African American man leaned into my field of vision waving his arms and pointing at my car. The young man was in a group of three people, a white woman in her thirties at least, an African American woman also in her thirties and this guy, all hanging out in a corner lot automotive station. I was stopped at the light in the intersection. My car bearing four large bright fluorescent green banners with the words "STUDENT DRIVER" and painted on them. Smiling, I rolled my window down, the dark woman leaned closer, dipped her hand down, threw her hip out and, "Honey are you for reeeeaaall?" Then we were talking at the same time, "I mean, what you charge?" I was confused - what do I charge? She could see I wasn't following her train of thought, "Honey what do you charge for you driving services?"  OMG, that's what she meant! "Oh no, I'm not an instructor, I put these on my car by myself last week when my daughter got her driving permit." She threw her head back and laughed loud and hard, "Oh Honey, now know you ARE for real, watching out for your baby - Lord I bet she hates that!" The light turned green, I waved, they waved, "Goooooo Momma!", I could hear as I turned the corner.  Ah, yes, good fun. 

Truth is, this isn't the first time I've been asked about the signs. We - Piper and I - pulled into the the Burger King parking lot and got out to switch places. An older Latino man hollered across the sidewalk, "Are you for real, or is this some kind of joke?" A joke?? "Uh no, no joke. We have a new driver in the family, the signs help the people around us be more patient with her while she's learning." And HE had laughed.  Walked off laughing and shaking his head, occasionally looking over his shoulder and laughing some more. "Great," Piper muttered. She managed to force a smile at another older man walking behind us who had heard the earlier exchange and was giving me a thumbs up. Her friends, even her brother, were in total sympathy with her, "that's sooo embarrassing." Well, she was getting honked at people and it was making her nervous and frustrated. I want her to be a good and confident driver. This has helped. She didn't mind the smile and thumbs up from the passing cop. Then again he was particularly cute. The signs stay on until she is more confident with her timing . . . . . . . . . and corners, she's still struggling with those. Still haven't tackled freeways. Not sure I'm up for it yet.

In other news, yes I'm a clutz! Twice in the last week I've spilled large amounts of water over my art table. Wouldn't be a problem if I wasn't working on my WATERCOLOR illustrations for my book! The first time, the water ruined the piece I was working on. All I could do was lift the drenched paper and watch two hours worth of work running off the page in a blaze of glorious color. Tonight, Oh so silly me, my phone got it the worst and 24 pages of reference material I spent hours printing out all this last week. That's why I had a few minutes right now. I strung a line across my living room and back again with a floor fan doing it's best to dry them out for me. Looks like a line full of wash inside the house. Buntah would love it but I just fed her, she is digesting in my bathtub for now.

In OTHER news - heads up people - the 49ers are playing Texas this Sunday!!!!!  WaaaaHoooooo!!!  Gooo 49ers!!! WooWooWoo!!

Will be leaving soon for a two week visit with my older daughters and their daughters. Piper is coming with me, this will be her first trip anywhere by plane and our air time will be extensive. This will also be the first time in six years I will have all my daughters together in one spot! And now they're all grown-ups!  Am I excited? HECK YA!! Also a little anxious to be leaving Buntah. Every other time I've gone away, Pip has been here to care for her. My dear sweet loving friend will be coming in to take care of her, but silly as this may sound, I'm afraid Buntah will think we've abandoned her. I know myself, I will be calling every night to check on them.

I started a letter to my daughters a few weeks ago when they asked me for advice on Life and Happiness. At this rate, I'll see them before the letter is finished. However, I will finish it. Who knows what kind of wisdom will come from our combined conversations?! I will post the letter here on my blog with the other family letters.

Pip and I drove down the coast on Saturday and went out on a Whale Watching adventure. It was exciting and disappointing at the same time. I had expected to see whales, which we did - one Blue Whale and two Humpbacks - but never got close enough for a good look see. We saw a lot of 'spouting' and some tail. The water was a bit choppy making for rougher waves, which makes it harder to see them. We never got to see how big they really were and no opportunity to see faces. No breaching.  Still, it was a once in a life-time thing for us. Once was probably enough. Unless, of course, I could know for certain I'd get a good close-up look, then I'd be out there again so fast!!  Both of us enjoyed the trip out onto the ocean since neither of us had ever been before. Took some pictures but haven't figured out how to get them from the camera to the computer. One I do, I'll post a few.

I have a lot to do before we can leave for our trip. One thing in particular; I have to finish a blanket I started nine months ago for one of my grand daughters. It was my first real quilt and I messed it up as only I can mess something up. I'm trying to save it now. Both luck AND skill have been slow in coming to me!!

THE BADDASS – My oldest daughter thinks I am a BADDASS. Why? Because I didn’t kill her when she was a child. 

She called a few days ago to lay this new title on me. Her inspiration for my new title was a particularly trying trip to the grocery store with her own two-year-old daughter. My daughter, Veda, is increasingly aware of the similarities in her personality and that of her own daughter. The more she learns, the more she's impressed she's impressed with me. I'll take it. My daughter had such a strong propensity for dramatic flare that her grandfather nicknamed her “Little Shakespeare” by the time she turned two herself.

Veda shared her ordeal. This is the tale of “The Cookies”, and hearing her       I had to laugh out loud.    Picture this, busy grocery store in the middle of the afternoon, the "I'm a procrastinator, what's for dinner tonight" crowd in force. Here comes a pretty, but tired and somewhat frazzled single mom, just off a long shift and still in her hospital scrubs. Her big brown eyes show weariness and say  . She is anxious to get through this grocery store as quickly, and quietly, as possible and on to the next obligation of the waning day.  Her sweet two year old daughter sits in the front of the basket, bouncy blonde hair, dimples and bright saucy, blue eyes daring anyone to displease her (remember, she is her Mother's child).  Make no mistake, this is an adorable child, face of an Angel. But here's the thing about grocery stores and children if you don't already know it, grocery stores turn children into terrorists. It's true.  Really it is. Avoid mixing the two whenever possible. Cookie aisles are the worst.  Veda looked down her list, the cookie aisle could not be avoided this trip. Her daughter loves cookies of course, again her mother's child. The cookie aisle was next.

My granddaughter is smart - and she has skills. Skills she was born with that cannot be explained. My granddaughter can sniff out a package of Oreo’s if it's buried in the ground. And my granddaughter really likes Oreo's. This child is also smart enough to know that if her mother was going to kill her, it wouldn't be in front of the "what's for dinner crowd." All children it seems are born knowing this. Mom starts the cart down the aisle. Child, even though they are behind her, her spine tingles and can sense the presence of OREO'S. She says she would like some cookies. It's before dinner, my daughter tried to reason with her child but in the end the answer was still no. Know this, you cannot reason with terrorists no matter their age or size. Now the child, realizing the potential for an attentive audience and maximized embarrassment for Mom, begins throwing herself dramatically side to side in the seat of the cart, head flopping, arms flailing. Giant tears, lots of drool, anguished pleas, even outstretched arms, “COOOOOKIES!  Cooooookies!” jerk crash, jerk crash as her little feet kick against the cart. And sure enough, the sound of her anguished cries are distressing enough to draw the attention of every busy body within half a mile - in the grocery store that can be a lot of smart ass busy bodies. Some of the male store patrons slid my daughter a sympathetic eye, but the ladies, oh the ladies - not so sympathetic. When it comes to matters of well-behaved, or NOT well-behaved children, every woman knows what's best. And some women, if you don't know it already, some women WILL tell you what you're doing wrong with your child.   My daughter tried again to reason. Up the volume and intensity of tantrum. Now my daughter decided just to ignore and go along her way.  People were staring, eyes bugged and mouths agape, that's hard to ignore. Especially when you're tired, over worked and already frazzled.

In admittedly, not her best parenting moment, she caved. My daughter caved. She finally reached back, grabbed a bag of goddamn Oreo’s and ripped it open right there in the aisle. Ahhh, silence. It's hard to cry and carry on when your mouth is full of yummy chocolatey Oreo's.  One woman, who had drawn nearer with a nasty eye of harsh and criticizing judgment, continued to stare, mouth agape. My daughter, pushed beyond reason, no more patience, and feeling backed into a corner, turned, faced the woman head-on with all the intensity of emotion that ebbs from you in a moment like this, and stared the woman down.  Both women, eyes locked, mental slashing going on, stared at each other. 5 seconds, 10 seconds, 20 seconds, that's it, my daughters hip swings out her head jags to the side, and “yeah, I opened the package – you got a problem with that?!” spewed from her mouth. The older woman, hmphfed, flipped her hair and snorted as she finally sailed under the shade of her own nose. The only victor was my granddaughter (who by the way was quite content at this point).

Story over, trying to stop laughing because now were coming the serious questions. “How did you do it Mom? What did you do?” I was still laughing. Oh, alright, how did I do it? Honestly I can’t remember if I used any secret tricks. I was a single mom too - with FOUR children. When you're single, there’s no one to leave the kids with while you go shopping, you have to take them with you to this terrible place.

I do remember making a list of "Rules for Personal Conduct in Public Places" and posting it on the wall. And before we even got to the store, the kids were informed of what was going to go down and what wasn't. They were informed of the consequences for crossing said lines in advance. I've walked away from a full cart more than once to take an unruly surprised child home. I tried to do our shopping after dinner or after a meal on weekends so they were less vulnerable to the temptations. We also had a “you can only ask once rule” in our family, which carried over to road trip “are we there yet’s” as well as the grocery store. I guess they figured if they only get to ask once you better make sure it’s something you really, really want. Gave them something to think about for a bit anyway.

“Motherhood pushes you to every imaginable limit and beyond,” I told my daughter, “you’ll make some good choices and you'll make some bad choices. Oh and you'll feel guilty all the time for something, that’s part of the package too.” I know my daughter, she’ll shine mostly and some day, someday, her daughter will be calling her to tell her what a BADDASS she was!