I’m 41 and have been drinking alcohol since the ripe old age of 13 (my kids may read this) 21 (when it was legal) – you do the math. I’ve been Twittering for…shoot…over a year now!!! According to Twitter at this very moment, I have given 4,659 updates. This is when I say to myself, “Greta, you need to get yourself a life girl!” I twitter from the boat from the restaurant in the car – oh shoot – I’m addicted!!! Alcohol – can certainly pass on it – no problema….but Twitter…OMG if my Tweetdeck is broken I’m breaking out in sweats. Panic. Is this Twitter thing killing brain cells? I think so – the pile of books I’m reading is now stacked 8 high but I know the business of all 2,608 friends who follow me on Twitter. I even drink with my Twitter friends as I Twittered from a bar just last night. Do I need Twitter Detox? Probably so as this whole thing may just be a “tad” out of control right now. But heck, look at all the time I’ve saved by getting all my news, information and even throwing out questions to my Twitter friends. I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again, “I wish everyone spoke to me in 140 characters or less!!!”

Will I keep enjoying libations and Twittering…hell ya (as long as I have a couple of brain cells remaining).

Freezer dilemma: What freezer? I don’t own a freezer. Oh…that freezer. What money? Oh, you see, sometimes I forget where I put stuff. My prescription of Aricept had run out and I was confused. You see, I was on the way to the bank and got confused and accidently put the money in the freezer instead.

Pebble Beach dilemma: What trip to Pebble Beach? Oh…I go there so much I forgot who I went with and who paid for it. Oh that airplane. Gosh, I forgot to pick up my Aricept on the way to the airport. I can’t even recall who I stayed with while we were there.

Hawaii dilemma: Which trip to Hawaii? You see, I go there so much I often forget completely about the trips and all the pictures we took are the only way I remember. As to where we stay and who paid…fugetaboutit! That trip paid for by an employee, as my fuzzy memory recollects, the line at the pharmacy was too long so I went without my prescription of Aricept.

Now I’m not a lawyer, nor do I play one on my radio show or my blog…but Aricept would be a fabulous defense.

c/p at Louisiana Conservative

Guys, if you know any woman who has to go bathing suit shopping – be sympathetic – and don’t be around her after the shopping excursion (you’ve been warned)! To think I actually had dreams of wearing a 2 piece this season…not going to happen unless it has a vacuum built into it that sucks things in! So if you see a 41 year old woman on the Tchefuncte River in her boat this summer wearing full body Spanx – just wave!

Update: 3/24 Update: I went to Bora Bora Swimwear in Mandeville and they hooked me up with a 2 piece that actually worked miracles! They did not pay me for this ad but maybe they’ll give me a discount next time:)

Picture stolen from my good friend William Teach. This pinup is by Gil Elvgren, with a wee bit of help. Teach added the “Patriotic Puppy.”

Welcome “Princess” the gerbil to the family. Let me tell you how so NOT thrilled I am about this new family member…The first time it starts smelling up the house – I’m sending the cats in to clean the cage!

My children’s first elementary school in Texas encouraged participation in the science fair starting right away. OK – exciting to introduce science to young minds and get parents involved. But, when the cafeteria was open to viewing of these projects, puh-leeze (can you say living vicariously through your children?). Then there was the 4th grade project my son did when we lived in Oklahoma (maybe I should calculate life around science fairs). Son #1 insisted on doing something with dry ice that required parental supervision. The project was destined for failure from the beginning, but his teacher approved it and he really wanted to play with the stuff. Besides my supervision, he did this project 100% on his own – he insisted. I sent a note to the teacher that it may not be the prettiest project, but the fact that he did it on his own had to count for something. He got an A, did not move on for judging, but was so proud of himself! Then in 5th grade he did a blindfold jellybean tasting that may have been a successful project if he did not insist on people identifying tutti-fruity banana twist flavor and just stuck to the simple stuff. Again, he did it all on his own, did not move on to the “next level,” got an A and was satisfied with himself. Lucky me, I really escaped son #1′s science fairs without requiring Xanax.

Now along comes son #2, who would just assume pay someone to do his science fair for him. This project has turned into household chaos and I’m pretty sure has upped my need to cover my gray hair (which reminds me I need to color my hair today)!!! He picked some project on growing grass seed or dry seeds in various types of soil that was approved by his teacher. WTF – growing stuff with a Mother who killed a cactus – destined for FAIL. When it came time to buy the stuff, turns out I needed a forklift at Home Depot for each of the soils and NOBODY sells dry seeds in the freaking winter!!! A conversation with his teacher discussing process not product and going through the motions of a project was the most important part, relieved my anxiety (of course he was not concerned at all). I asked the teacher if there was a problem with the project, if we could we change it over Thanksgiving break since it was about process. After all, hubby and I are edumacated and certainly could choose something worthy of a 5th grade Science Fair. Here is where Mom went wrong!!! When son #2 returns to school – I am told that what we did was not science fair material – d’oh! That in order for this project (that had already required several glasses of wine) to meet science fair standards, we would have to do a ton of additional work. The killer with this experiment is that it requires human subjects (me, son #1 and Princess Whinalot), to be measured early in the morning and before bed! Try getting the Princess out of bed in the morning and making her get measured (she will be a coffee adult). The measuring usually ends with some type of punishment for son #2 and the Princess and me needing a sanity check.

So here we are in the final stretch of Christmas vacation and guess what I need to work on this week …Science Fair!!! OMG – I did my thesis and thought I closed the book on schooling – WRONG! Son #1 will be working on his social studies fair project this week and I know he will do it on his own. Please someone – save me from this 5th grade science fair hell in which I live. Gotta go run to the liquor store before we get working on this today!

If you don’t hear from me in a few days it is because I am in a peaceful place with padded walls!!!

Here is where you chime in with comments dear readers….

Then Mrs Claus told Santa her Mother was coming to visit, which stressed Santa even more.

When he went to harness the reindeer, he found that three of them were about to give birth and two others had jumped the fence and were out, Heaven knows where.

Then when he began to load the sleigh, one of the floorboards cracked, the toy bag fell to the ground and all the toys were scattered.

Frustrated, Santa went in the house for a cup of apple cider and a shot of rum. When he went to the cupboard, he discovered the elves had drunk all the cider and hidden the liquor. In his frustration, he accidentally dropped the cider jug, and it broke into hundreds of little glass pieces all over the kitchen floor. He went to get the broom and found the mice had eaten all the straw off the end of the broom.

Just then the doorbell rang, and irritated Santa marched to the door, yanked it open, and there stood a little angel with a great big Christmas tree.
The angel said very cheerfully, ‘Merry Christmas, Santa. Isn’t this a lovely day? I have a beautiful tree for you. Where would you like me to stick it?’

And so began the tradition of the little angel on top of the Christmas tree.

tiara tip Jody

***Shake the people in the snow globe

***Chipmunks Roasting on an Open Fire