Windy Days's blog

Thought you guys would get a kick out of this. Our very sweet, very loving and accepting, yet very Catholic friend, Mandy sent Dawn an email which read, "Hey, Ladies. What do you guys feel the eggs with?" We were baffled. Totally baffled. We stared at each other with furrowed brows and half-smiles. After deciding that she was trying to ask us something of a sexual nature, Dawn called her. Mandy was confused. "I meant the Easter Eggs. Do you fill them with candy or money or what?" Fill, not feel.

Florida’s Beaches were segregated. I swear that had never occurred to me. I’m from Mississippi, ground zero for the civil rights movement and the integration battles. I think of lunch counters and the Little Rock Nine and George Wallace and James Meredith. But not beaches.

William: What does a purple flag mean? Purple flag at beach?

Me: It means there are dangerous animals in the water.

William: Like jellyfish.

Me: Yes.

William: And stingrays.

Me: That's right.

William: And dragons.

Me: Dragons?

Faith: Yes. Some people believe there are dragons and monsters in the sea, but I don't.

William: Well, I do.

Ray: Roaaaaaaaaarrrrr!

I have a blog at lifeisbetterthangood.blogspot.com. Yesterday, I found a new friend, Dena, at the Normanist Theory. (Read her. She’s in my list of blogs that I follow.) I’m borrowing her idea for this post. I was struck by her, “To my eight year-old self.” Storm is 8, so that is probably a good part of why I find this so intriguing.

I jumped around like a monkey long enough and someone noticed. They gave me a gig. I'll be writing 3 -4 articles a week. I get paid depending on how many hits I get and how long each person stays there and how many repeat readers and how many newcomers and how many republicans and how many brunettes and how many wonderful and supportive friends I can get to click on it.

I'm so sorry to say that you'll be shamelessly reminded almost daily to give a bitch a click.

Thanks, Chickas!

http://www.examiner.com/x-4654-Pensacola-Gay-Parenting-Examiner

Yesterday, we loaded up the kids who were out of school again for no good reason (something about the teachers going to New Orleans for a conference (Mardi Gras)). We were on the way to Mobile on I-10 when Dawn very calmly said, “That was a Wild Boar.”

“A what?” I said

About every 2 weeks, we have a morning where everything comes together (or falls apart) to reveal the hilarious nature of our kids. Today is one of those blessed days.
Storm, age 8, sleepily walked down the hallway in mismatched jams. “Why did you change pajama bottoms?” I asked. He stared at me.
“Did you pee in your bed?” Blank stare. “Storm. Hi. I’m talking to you. Did you pee in your bed?” He shook his head a couple of times and then pulled the diagonal nod and gradually worked it into a full nod. “Does that mean yes, Baby?”
Blank stare then, “No.”