As God Is My Witness... I Will Defend The Mighty Swoon!

For those seasoned veterans of the Six-Pack, you will know who I am talking about when I say the words "Stupid Fat Hobbit."

My friend Patrick.

He is like Cousin Steve... a pain in my ass. Which by the way, Cousin Steve is feeling soooo much better-something about a med that finally worked for the big lump on top of his head. He is about 75% back to being his normal hilarious self-although last night when I called him and said "My smoke detector is beeping at me making the dog freak out and poop in the baby's room!" he said "Yeah, well I can't get my remote to work and now I have to have my wife change the channels on the TV-you think YOU got problems?"


For those of you who are "new" to the Six-Pack, you may not know Patrick for the simple fact that he is a lazy blogger. He never updates his blog and he seems to think there are more important things out there (like moving across the country, working, blah blah blah) than blogging.

I met Patrick when we lived in Virginia and our spouses worked together... or if you want to get technical, when his wife (Pokey) was my husband's (Ward) boss. Patrick and I met at a Christmas party where I squeezed my size 10 post baby body into a size 8 dress and he took a picture for proof and then posted it on his blog.

I know! It was horrible.

Now that I am a size 4-6 do you see any pics of me floating around his blog? Nope. Sheesh.


Patrick has the right combination of weirdo and smartassidry (to use one of our mascot FlyNavy's made up words) to be one of my friends. He cracks me up and the mere fact that he is a good Cat-lic boy makes him endearing.


It has come to my attention that he is evil and must be destroyed.

So I must destroy him.

It was good knowing you Patrick.

I hope you don't have to spend much time in Purgatory for what you did... but if I were God.... you would be there long after I have left and entered the Pearly Gates of Heaven and you and I both know that I am going to set up shop in Purgatory-we both know that I am going to be there for so long that they may even change the name to Juneatory.

So go on over and see what Stupid Fat Hobbit did on his blog.

Go see what he thought he could get away with.

Go see the way he is showing complete and utter disrespect to the Monday Swoon-the Tuesday Tease-the Wednesday Woah-the Thursday Thicket-the Friday Fancy, the Saturday Sexy and the Sunday... wait, I don't post on Sunday.

Hmm... those are all really good names aren't they? If life ever gets too busy and I can't think of words to fill this blog-I'll just use those ideas right up there. I am so brilliant.

While you are over at Hobbit's place, tell him what a cruel person he is. He loves that kind of shit.

And then spit on the sidewalk and turn around three times, flip off your bathroom scale and say it loud and proud... "Patrick! We just F^%#ed you up!"

Defend the Swoon ladies... defend the swoon.



You Can Tell A Lot By A Picture...

If a picture really does speak a thousand words-this one would have hit us each on the head with a perfect personality description.

Carl Jung would have a field day with my family.

What do you suppose this picture says:


I know what it is saying to ME... what is it saying to YOU?



Deep Thoughts With June Cleaver...

In my constant search of the Internet... I came across this video. It intrigued me and I eventually made my way over to the web site.

It got me a' thinkin'

What does one do when they are in search of themselves?

What do you do?

I could see walking across the Nation like Forest Gump did. I mean, could you imagine the alone time? The moments of reflection and inner growth?

The blisters?

And when we are in search for ourselves, do we ever really find what we are looking for?

If you could walk from one point to another-what would be your point A and what would be your point B?

My point A would be this house... and my point B would be Ireland.


Imagine the people I would meet along the way.

Could you as a person really do this... walk from one point to another alone-with only your thoughts to entertain you? Maybe I would take my iPod.

I could.

I enjoy being a hermit at times.

Imagine the leg muscles you would develop.


So.... where would you walk if you could? Where would you go to find yourself? What would be the song you played over and over again on your Nano?

I would play Wave on Wave by Pat Green.... just because I enjoy a good groovin'


Sigh... Is It Monday Already?

Phew! What a weekend! My little sister and her hubby came out for the weekend. They flew their plane-yes, their plane. Their little baby Ainsley says "Fly with Daddeeeee." Be jealous if you want-it is easy to be jealous of their precious trio-a trio that is becoming a quartet in Sept. Claire thinks it may be a little boy. If that is the case she has always liked the name "Daniel" but she is stuck on a middle name. I suggested "Craig" for obvious reasons.

Just because it is Monday and I love the Tudors. It may not be historically accurate... but who really gives a crap.

Just because it is Monday and I drank a little too much on Saturday and felt a little groggy all day Sunday and wanted to just take a nap on the couch...

Just because it is Monday and he is hot... and I ate so much food with my sister that I may or may not have gained 5 lbs. in three days flat. It is a new personal record.

Just because it is Monday and my oldest received her Confirmation this weekend. Uncle Ryan was her sponsor and he has a keen ability to make little eighth grade girls giggle and little eighth grade boys squirm. Anyway... I heart Father Jon, but not in a "Thornbirds" sort of way.

Just because it is Monday and the weather was warm and the parks were packed with shirtless men playing ultimate Frisbee, sand volleyball and baseball. Who ever thought of the phrase "Shirts or Skins" was one smart woman.

Just because it is Monday and I love baseball.

Just because it is Monday and I miss football.

Just because it is Monday and we went to listen to a friend's band play on Saturday night and the lead singer looks a lot like Daughtry. Nice. Red stood me up-thanks a lot Red!

Just because it is Monday and at one point in the evening on Saturday my brother-in-law said "Is that Harry Connick Jr?" and all of the women at the table got whiplash turning our heads around to see what he was talking about.... he was talking about the song that was playing-but he could have been talking about the actual HCJ. We weren't taking our chances.
Just because it is Monday and there is something about a dirty bald man that makes me forget that it is Monday. Sigh.

Just because it is Monday and I think Eminem's new song is just about the funniest thing out there right now. I would link to it-but I am having a hard time doing that because of Father Jon up there...

Just because it is Monday and every Six-Pack needs a mascot. Oh yeah. You all know I am an Air Force wife... but sometimes you have to give props to the boys who fly in the Navy.

Enjoy the week ladies... I feel a give away coming on for next week's Swoon. What it can be is a secret-because I haven't figured that part out yet. It is Monday after all.


What Every Girl Needs...


Every woman needs friends, and I am not talking about the friends that you have because you have children the same age and you are thrown together in the ballet waiting room or the side of the baseball field... no, I am talking about those friends that you can call in the middle of the night and say "I think I may have just shit my pants." and they will calmly and evenly respond, "Well... do you have your good panties on and did you have corn for dinner?" and then you respond, "No-I think someone is in my backyard about to come in and kill and rape me-I just know it..." and they will say, "Are we talking Ted Bundy-good looking-killer or Charles Manson-holy hells bells ugly-killer?" and eventually you are in a discussion about Lifetime movies and whether or not you should wax or shave your unmentionables and you have forgotten about the frightening person on your back deck that does not exist.

I have made mention before that I have a very small circle of friends that I consider my true blues. You know who you are... and I love you, but today I am going to talk about my friend Lisa.

Lisa is my soul twin-no lying on this one. We get each other and there is something so cerebrally satisfying to know that there is actually another person in this world that thinks the same warped things that you do about many quirky habits.

The funny thing about Lisa is that as much as we are alike, we are polar opposites... for instance, she has great big titties, and I don't. She is a liberal, and I am not. She may or may not believe in God, and God is the reason I get up every morning and sift through this life. She has brown hair, I have blonde. She is short, I am tall. She is funny... oh wait-we do have that in common.
We are both health nuts... I am a vegetarian-but Lisa is a carnivore. Lisa only buys organics at Whole Foods and then I bust her by calling her in the middle of the day and listening to her talk through mouthfuls of food and I say "What are you eating?" and she will say "Shut up, leave me alone." and I'll say "Step away from the Suzie-Q!" Thank goodness we both agree that alcohol is good for you... but you should never drink Heineken because it is the only beer with formaldehyde in it, unless of course it is the beer on special for $1.00, but thankfully, that is usually a crappy Bud Lite so we are safe.

Why am I thankful for Lisa? Because she refuses to let me sulk in my bad moods. She insists I get up off of my rear and sweat my urine through my skin in yoga class. She drags me out of my doldrums and listens to me, gives me a hug, smacks me on the ass and says "Go forth and be happy young grasshopper."

She also has a stocked liquor cabinet. Sweet.

Everyone should have a Lisa like my Lisa in their life. A friend that will keep calling you even when you don't return phone calls for six months and say "Hey! Let's go out and get so drunk we get in a fight, puke and eventually wonder how we traded clothes in the middle of the night."

I hope you have a Lisa. A person who can look at you and know your faults and love you in spite of them-or rather... love you even more because of them.


Aliens Violated Cousin Steve...

I have not mentioned Cousin Steve lately... so I thought I would go behind his back and make fun of him today. He loves that kind of thing.

Steve and I are buds-compadres-soul friends-siblings from separate diblings... and he is a pain in my ass. A boil on my butt and a splinter in my spleen.

Speaking of spleens... did you know his is enlarged? Yep-so is his head, but that is another story for another time.

Steve is heading to Northwestern this morning... for those of you non-Chicago people, that means that Steve is heading to the Big Game-the place where they will poke him, prod him and experiment on him until they figure out just what is wrong with him.

He doesn't feel good. He can't get through a day without pain and we are not talking the kind of pain that I go through a day (like-which shoes I wear? Flip flops or flip flops) no, Steve is in so much pain that all I can do is try and make him laugh when we talk-because laughter is the best medicine and he makes me laugh out loud through my tears and I can only hope to do the same for him.

I suggested that maybe aliens have abducted him and that is why he is having these problems. You all laugh now-but wait until they pull some 10 foot communicating device from his butt and then who will be laughing? Huh? Freakin' aliens.

Last night Steve called while I was at Hot Yoga. I saw his call as soon as I was out and so I zipped him a phone call back-which I know Steve loves when I call him when I am at my most hyper of the day... which is generally 24 hours a day, but after a work out my endorphins are a ragin' and I am especially hyper-giddy-loud-abusive-funny-and a damn good time in general.

During our phone conversation it all suddenly hit me. I know exactly why Steve is sick and I know exactly what he needs to do to get better...

I told him-in my best "LIFE IS GREAT" voice that he needed to stop eating meat, start drinking more water, and start doing yoga.

He called me a witch and hung up on me.

I called back and after convincing him that our phone call was not being recorded by the government and I was not a terrorist, he told me I could take my hot yoga and shove it where the sun don't shine... which on Steve is anywhere below his big fat head.


I just want him to get better-or at least to figure out why he is not feeling good. Those docs up at Northwestern need to know that if they do not help him they will have a rather small spitfire of a blonde woman knocking on their door and letting them see first hand what june cleaver means when she says (say it with me six-packers...) I will f*&$ you up!

Damn straight.

In the meantime... please toss up a peace sign to the Big Guy in the Sky for Steve today. He is a guinea pig and unless he ain't being served up with some fava beans and a nice Chianti, it is not fun to be a guinea pig.

Say a prayer-thank God for Steve from me and ask Him to lay His Healing Hands on my cousin, who is so much more to me than a cousin.



So This Is How Crazy People Live...

4:30 AM and I am up. Wide awake and exhausted. How does this happen? How is it possible that so many thoughts can be floating through my little brain at such a rate that they not only make me wake up every 40 minutes or so, but also makes me wake up before the sunrises, fully alert and ready to go find a baseball bat and clobber the Sandman?


I can't be PMSing because I am about to ovulate... so I am unable to even blame my mood on mother nature.

Is is because of Spring? I don't think so, I love being able to strip off the sweatshirts and wear a tank top and feel the warmth of the sun on my shoulders. It makes me smile-it brings me happiness... so surely my mood is not that cause of Spring. I mean, I don't even have allergies so I can enjoy the bursting of flowers to the fullest... just not at 4:30 in the morning.

Last night I tried to wear myself out a bit... and what do I do when I am feeling down? I dance. That is right... I dance.

I plugged my iPod into my ears and jumped around like a teenager on American Bandstand. My children stared at me, laughed at me, and eventually joined in... but eventually I retreated to my bedroom, closed the door and continued to dance.

I am such a goof. What kind of woman dances alone on a Monday night?

One that has so many thoughts rolling around in her head that she can't help herself I suppose.

Wanna know my song list last night? It was a doozy-considering that I am a Rock Star (Chad Kroeger told me I was and I believe him) I tried to dance to some Theory of a Deadman (Bad Girlfriend is just about the best song out there right now... but don't listen to it if you went to confession in the last year-you'll have to go again) but it was just not working for me, so I switched to Club Music... Pop songs even. I know-I am just as shocked as you, but when my mother and father came together in the name of love and made me, I received all of my mother's dancing abilities and I can tear up the dance floor like nobody's business. I love to dance-my sisters love to dance too... we love to dance together, which reminds me that my little sister and her hubby are coming out this weekend and we are going out on Saturday night and DANCING! Well... I will be dancing-moving and shaking-twisting and twirling... I am not sure if Claire will dance seeing as she is pregnant and I seriously doubt her husband will dance considering he is, well... not a dancer.

Anyway-my mind erasing song list was as follows:

  • Round the Bend by The Great Divide (yes, it is even country-but I love it so much that I play it over and over and over again in my ears. I just don't know why.)

  • When I Grow Up by the Pussycat Dolls. (how embarrassing... especially when they say that wanted boobies.)

  • Let's Get it Started by the Black Eyed Peas (just try and not move when you hear this song. I dare ya.)

  • Leavin' by Jesse McCartney (I like how he calls her "baby girl" although I don't know what a "lady raid?" is or what in the world "flyin' on the G5" means.)

  • Beautiful by Akon (when I hear this song I pull up only one of my pant legs and giggle when he says "can I be your baby father" and whoever thought of calling a woman a "shorty" is a genius.)

  • Keeps Gettin' Better by Christina Aguilera (it is my theme song... love when she says "serve it up in a shot and suck it up like a man. Damn straight.)

  • Just Dance by Laddy GaGa. I know-I couldn't help myself.

I closed out the set with Seether's "Fake It" just to reassure you all that I am still a Rock star-nothing like a little headbanging to get all of that Pop funk off of me.

Even now, as I am sitting here with my iPod in my ears I have the urge to get up-move a little-escape this mood.

What do you do to escape a mood? Have any homeopathic remedies I can try? Acupuncture? Shopping? Give me your therapy for blowing the stink off of yourself... I can use all the help I can get because I am getting tired of knowing what 4:30 AM looks like.


Hair Swoon... Get Your Hair Swoon Here...

I try very hard to guide my children in all aspects of life, and my main goal is to help them on their way to heaven of course. With the little ones, I try and help them get through the day without coloring on the walls or getting bubble gum in the dog's fur. With my son I try and get him through the day without taking any trips to the emergency room or the police station... but with my oldest daughter, I try really hard to get her through the day with the most important lessons of all.


Now, you may be saying "June! How can you be teaching your daughter about swoons? You are a horrible, despicable, incomprehensible mother!" and to all of that I say... yeah, SO?

You see... I had to teach my daughter about Rock and Roll or she would be destined to love silly boy bands like The Jonas Brothers (gag) which, sadly I will admit that she does love them and she is actually going to their concert this summer (the third time she will be seeing them in concert-I know, it pains me as well) but I am happy to say that next to all of those bubble gum songs on her iPod, she also has some Nickelback, Saving Able and Theory of a Deadman (oh, relax, she is only allowed the PG songs-none of the ones that talk about pants around your ankles or any of the other really REALLY good ones.)

And I have finally convinced her that Harley Davidson Motorcycles are sooo much better than those "crotch rocket" motorcycle types that all of the half-baked-fly-by-the-seat-of-their-pants-and-you-can't-trust-them boys like to race around town in.

But there is one area that I just cannot sway her on. Hair. Yes, hair. She likes hair on boys. I am talking lots of hair-surfer hair, long hair, sprayed, coiffed, hi-lited and styled hair.

Where did I go wrong I ask you? I knew today that I would never be able to convince her to like a nice buzz cut or a clean cut crop (which is what I really like even if I do say that Robert Pattinson's hair drives me crazy-so crazy that it is hair porn for me.... but I digress).

This evening we went out for dinner and as we were leaving my daughter, being the good and obedient oldest sibling, took little 2-year-old Mary into her arms and carried her across the parking lot to put her in her car seat (without even being asked... see Ma, Rock and Roll does not make a teenager's brain explode.) As she was cradling the baby in her arms and walking, a boy-a teenage boy with long, flowing, thick, surfer dude, swiped to the side of his head hair walked past her. He watched her. He smiled at her. He even flipped his head to the side so that his greatest attribute-his lovely locks-would flip and fall perfectly into a certain disheveled place that gave him an effortless coolness about him. I couldn't help but smile because I knew my daughter's heart was pounding... and I also gave that boy a dirty look that said "Back off buster-you do not want to mess with that sweet little girl up there or I will F&^% you up! That is right! I am June Cleaver and I will F^%^ you up!" I am so amazed at how I can convey that entire sentence with just a single glance... I am that good at being a mom.

I climbed into the car and looked at my daughter and she was scowling at me. What did I do?

Daughter: "Mother! I can't believe you have so many children and I am carrying one when a cute boy smiles at me!"

Me: "What? It is not my fault! Talk to your father."

Daughter: "He probably thought that Mary was mine... or worse! He probably thought that we are part of a cult of something!"

Me: "Hey-I hear cults are all the rage now-a-days, you need to read your Tiger Beat more."

Daughter: "He was cute.... (sigh, swoon, sigh again) did you see his hair? I wonder how old he is. I wonder if he can drive."

Me: (rolling my eyes so hard that I can see the back of my brain)"Well, considering he was driving that big red pick up (okay, I will admit that pick ups are cool) I bet he is at least 16... and he is here with his Grandma-who probably owns the pick up-unless of course that is his girlfriend... maybe he is into older ladies, but he is too old for you and he has too long of hair." (I threw that last remark about the hair in there to tick her off... and the grandma dating remark just purely to gross her out.)

Daughter: "His hair was perfect." (notice how she ignored my grandma dating remark... she is good.)

Me: "Yeah... too bad he thinks you have a baby."

Daughter "MOTHER!"

And then I laughed the rest of the way home...

So to make it up to my hair-loving daughter, I am going to put youngsters with hair on the Monday Swoon.

Lord help me.

Are you even old enough to vote son?

What was I talking about? Hair.... does he even have hair? I can't see it.

Mirror Mirror on the wall... scoot over so my boyfriend can see himself and borrow my hairbrush and mouse and gel and hair spray... and has anyone seen my teeth whitener?

This is the worst of all... my daughter has this joker on her bedroom wall. She is Team Jacob. I know... I am embarrassed. Look at his hair! Can you imagine what the drain in the shower looks like when he is done? Ugh-gross.

Okay... fine. Sometimes I understand hair on a man. Sometimes.


My apologies ladies... truly. I just reread this post and said WTF Jimmy! So I thought I would put some baldies on the Monday Swoon to remind us wimins that bald is beautiful-it is manly-it is easy to maintain-and it requires no extra primping in front of the mirror. Who wants a man that has to primp in the mirror? Not moi.

The Six-Pack has been schooled.

My apologies to the masses.



T. G. I... WHAT?

What day is it? Friday? Seriously? How in the HELL did that happen? Wasn't it just Monday and I was apologizing for the lack of a Monday Swoon that turned into a early Tuesday Swoon that turned into a Wednesday birthday Swoon which turned into a "I am an apple, hear me roar" swoonish-kinda-maybe-not-thing-a-ma-jig... and now it is Friday?

Holy Crap.

What happened to this week?

What happened to my life?

Just a few weeks ago I was happy in the laziness of my life that offered me time to blog amazing moments of clarity (go with me on this.... ). I was able to clean my house, organize the bills, play with the chillin's, chat on the phone with my father-my mother-my sisters-my long lost friends, I was able to cook (HAHAHAHA), get a pedicure, maybe shop for some bras, and even write one of the most amazing chapters in the history of book writing that you may never know about because now... NOW... I have no time for anything.

Hot Yoga did this to me I tell you-or maybe it was the burst of Spring that brought with it new activities and schedules.


As you know the kids are playing ball-which puts my tiny little hot yoga sitting flesh on a cold hard steel bleachers six days out of the week. That is right... you heard me, SIX DAYS! That is fine though, I don't mind. It would be easier if I knew anything about technology and I could post this blog from my cell phone and tell you about random things I see at the ball parks-which are so humorous that I would get an award or something for mentioning them... but I am too tired by the end of a long day that I forget about all of the colorful people you meet while your rear end is frozen to cold steel.

Have I mentioned hot yoga? Oh yes... I did. You see, I have become addicted-I can't help it. The only set back is that it is a 90 minute class... so that means 90 minutes away from my children to do some soul searching and inward focusing on my own life--which, HELLO!-what mother in their right mind really can do that without feeling completely guilty? Not me... I feel guilty that I am healing my body and starting to look like a FREAKIN' SUPERMODEL in the meantime (okay, there is something completely false about that last sentence... but I am not going to tell you which part-you are smart, you figure it out... meditate on it if you have to.)

I have also been in search of the perfect lawn service for our house... one that is not commercial and can speak mostly English... oh, and one that does not cost an arm and a leg. I just want a couple of people who know how to mow, fertilize, landscape, mulch, toil, weed, germinate, pollinate, edge, and do it with a smile and a "yes ma'am."


The house is also getting painted-I have changed the colors and our painters is such a nice ol' guy that he put all kinds of samples of colors on the side of the house for me to decide which I like better.

I am not good with that kind of thing.

I have to look at it in the sun, in the rain, in the early morning, in the early evening, when the sun is coming up, when the sun is going down, and when I am in a good mood, and when I am in a bad mood... so after a couple weeks of stressing over which shade of BROWN I prefer on the house-I have decided and he will start on Monday-which means I will go over on Monday afternoon and freak out because I'll think I chose the wrong color.

I am cursed.

Not to mention the kids have this whole school thing going on. Ugh-when is it over I ask you? 25 more days and life will be easier right? When they are home 24/7 looking for me to entertain them.... I can't wait! Seriously... I can't wait. Honest. Cross my heart.

Actually, I really can't wait to stop getting up at the crack of dawn and driving them to that building where they learn things and become responsible citizens.

They'll just use that knowledge against me one day-I just know it.

So, today is Friday-which means tomorrow is Saturday and then Sunday and then it is Monday again. Wow! Where did the weekend go? I can only hope that I get a few beers in me sometime between now and the Monday Swoon... or what will be the point really?

And yes, it is 4:30 in the morning on Friday and I am wide awake-hot yoga is making me think too much I think-see, there I go again. It is also making me want to go to bed at 9:30, when I usually don't crawl between the downy fresh sheets until at least 1 a.m. so now I am becoming a early riser instead of a night owl? Wait a minute... that ain't right! I need my night times... for more productive things like watching hulu.com and reading my Entertainment Weekly magazine, which has been sitting on my kitchen table all week with the boys from The Fast and Furious just staring up at me-taunting me.

Freakin' Fridays.



Apples... Damn Straight!

Some more words of wisdom from my friend Lori-the queen of wisdom.


Women are like apples on trees. The best ones are at the top of the tree.

Most men don’t want to reach for the good ones because they are afraid of falling and getting hurt.

Some men just don’t have the strength to climb for the good apples at the top, and others are just too lazy.

Some are so hungry for any apple that they settle for the ones that aren’t as good, but are easy to get.

The apples at top think there is something wrong with them, but in reality they are the most amazing.

They just have to wait for the right man, one who is brave enough to climb to the top of the tree.


Hippo Birdie Red!

What? Did I hear what I think I heard? It is Red's birthday? Ya don't say....
I told Gerry here and he wants to give you a big ol' kiss

Happy Birthday Red!


I say we head out to the airport and hang out at the security checkpoints... who knew that air travel could be so entertaining!--or you can meet me next week when my friend's band is playing at the Glacier... I'll buy you a drink! Let's make everyone who doesn't live in Omahaheho jealous that they aren't here... especially Mr. Butler.
All are invited of course... but I am only buying Red's drinks.


Okay Ladies... Settle Down

Here it is... so you can all stop clicking on this blog every 5 minutes to see if I have done the Monday Swoon yet.

Sigh. You all are so demanding.

Waughhoo put her request in early for this one. It seems she loves Scottish men... now me being as Irish as Irish can be (oh, there may be other heritage-schmeritage in there... but really, not enough to weaken the Irish blood in me) a Six-Packer may think that I would have a hard time posting some swoon-worthy men from Scotland, but you are forgetting that dear ol' Saint Patrick himself was a Scott... so that makes them good enough for me!
So let's start this off with a bang shall we?

Can we all agree that the best thing about this entire picture... hell, the best thing about this entire post... this entire BLOG, is that skinned up knee?

Don't look at me like that Gerard Butler... you heard me. Yeah, I whispered that in your ear. Oh, don't act so surprised. You know you are up for the challenge.

Damn... I forgot my swimsuit. What? You don't have one on? I don't need one either? Oh Mr. Butler-you are a cheeky fellow... and I've already told you once to stop looking at me like that. I am a married woman. Yes sir. MARRIED. (thanks friend for the pics)

Okay, lets put this to a vote shall we? The young Sean Connery....

Or the older, wiser, been around the block and knows how to parallel park Sean Connery?

Decisions, decisions...

Dougray Scott... so swooney as a good guy, but so swelteringly swoony as a bad guy. Is "swelteringly" a word? Is "swoony" a word? Who cares...

I fell for you Ewan when you did the movie Trainspotting back in the 90's which was such a disturbingly brilliant movie that I couldn't stop watching you... and it doesn't hurt that you have some ink on the right arm of yours.

Don't you just want to take James Mcavoy home, introduce him to mom and dad and bake him a pie? I don't know what it is about him... but the urge bake for this boy is overwhelming.

AND... since this is MY blog and I am willing to always give you Six-Packers what you want, I still have the right to post something that I like...

So here is a Brit for you...

Yes, yes, yes, I know that Gerard Butler beats this vampire with those skinned knees of his up there... but Robert Pattinson is laying in water somewhere and looking at us as if he needs to bite us or he will just go crazy.

Sorry, I just couldn't help myself.


Intro To Monday Swoon...

Yes, I did remember the Monday Swoon... but I have not been able to get in front of this here computer in a while-but I promise that I have a swoon coming-it may be a Tuesday Swoon, but as God is my witness... there will be a Swoon.

But in the meantime... I'll give you this funny little story, courtesy of my friend Lori-who always finds the funny stuff in life:

A guy goes to the supermarket and notices an attractive woman waving at him.

She says hello. He's rather taken aback because he can't place where he knows her from.

So he says, "Do you know me?"

To which she replies, "I think you're the> father of one of my kids."

Now his mind travels back to the only time he has ever been unfaithful to his wife and says, "Are you the stripper from the bachelor party that I made love to on the pool table with all my buddies watching while your partner whipped my butt with wet celery??"

She looks into his eyes and says calmly, "No, I'm your son's teacher".

Oh Mercy! Relax-just laugh at it... don't tsk and say "I can't believe June just said that!"



Forgive Me... I Beg

Soul of Christ, sanctify me
Body of Christ, save me
Blood of Christ, inebriate me
Water from the side of Christ, wash me
Passion of Christ, strengthen me
O good Jesus, hear me
Within thy wounds hide me
Permit me not to be separated from thee
From the wicked foe defend me
At the hour of my death call me
And bid me come to thee
That with thy saints I may praise thee
For ever and ever.
Good Friday, 2009


The Sights... The Sounds... The Smells...

When I was a kid, my absolute favorite thing about summer was playing softball. I lived for it-I waited for it-and I thought there was nothing better than walking on the field to play.

My husband was also a ball player. We grew up in the same hometown just a few blocks from each other and in this little town, baseball and softball were what summers were made of. As a child I was either playing ball or watching someone play ball. When I would go out with friends, we would always ride our bikes to the ball park to see who was there (which would be everyone) and who was playing (which may have been a boy that I had a crush on).

Our town was small enough that kids were able to ride their bikes to every practice and game. Parents would come later with coolers full of kool-aide and paper cups, and after the game mom and dad would load up the kids' bikes into the back of the station wagon and all of the players would climb in the back of the coaches pick up trucks and the winning teams would chant "WE'RE NUMBER ONE!" all the way to the local ice cream shop where every kid in town would congregate and get their 50 cent ticket to ice cream or candy.

It was the life let me tell you... and I loved every inch of it.

Today, my two oldest children play ball and I wait for it... I live for it... and the only thing better than being out on the field playing is sitting on the bleachers watching one of my kids play.

Aaron loves baseball. He dreams of being a major league baseball player (for the Chicago Cubs of course) and let me tell you... I am sure that is my husband's dream as well. Now that Aaron is 11, it is much more fun to watch his games and practices than when he was in t-ball and we were basically watching paint dry. Today-it is exciting! The boys are like little men out there stealing, sliding, hitting, catching, and yes... spitting sunflower seeds. They have hand signals and they know how to hustle on and off the field.

Last night was Aaron's first baseball practice and I sat in the bleachers watching bursting with pride at my boy who loves baseball. There is nothing more exciting than watching your kid do something they love-something that they feel driven to be good at-and something that you yourself loved to do as a kid.

I am only sad that my husband is not here to coach his boy this season. I know it is tearing him apart having to miss out on the smell of the dirt, the yell of the umpire and yes... the spitting of the sunflower seeds.

Hope loves softball which makes me so excited that I can hardly contain myself. She is good too... she hustles, she is scrappy and she knows all of the good cheers to scream at the other team's pitcher.

Last night was Hope's first softball practice and I sat on the bleachers and watched her, bursting with pride at my girl who loves softball. The sound of the fast pitch whirling in, the crack of the bats and the umpire yelling "You're SAFE!" Just gets me giddy with excitement.

Hope is 14 so the days of us wondering when the inning would be over are through. These girls know what they are doing and they are going to do it until they shove it down your throat. It is exciting, it is raw, and it is everything I love about softball.

I was so proud of Hope last night with her hustle, and I love the fact that Hope actually listens to me when I tell her to run faster, change her batting stance or to keep her eye open because the ball is coming her way. She and I are in synch when it comes to playing ball-and she doesn't think anything of it when I stand in the bleachers and yell "WHAT'R YA PULLING A TRAIN?" to her when she is running the bases.

I am also sad that The Ward is missing softball season this year. Ward has coached Hope every year since she started softball and my heart broke a little when she walked out onto the field without him last night. I know it is tearing him apart to not be here... but when I saw the boys that were hanging out at the field last night checking out the girls who were playing, I thought that this may be a good year for him to miss. God help us all.


Thank the Lord ball season has started again... it's what we Cleavers wait for the other 9 months out of the year... I only hope this year I don't get tossed out of any games for yelling at the umpire (unless of course he is as blind as a bat.)


What Do Stomach Cramps, Diarrhea, and Vomiting Have In Common? Weight Loss... DUH!

Feeling a little under the weather... could be a stomach bug coming on. If I play my cards right I could lose 5 lbs. with this one.

Eh, it is probably just that dinner of garlic bread I ate. That is the last time I eat the whole loaf-so help me Pepperidge Farms.

Here's hoping for the stomach flu-is it bad to think of weight loss when I am doubled over in pain?

Fingers crossed.


Why? ... And Other Perplexing Questions.

Why do I gain 5 lbs. of water weight over night when I get my period? What could possibly be happening while I sleep?

Why do these 5 lbs. make me want to jump off a bridge?

Why does my hair look good on days that I have nothing to do and don't leave the house?

Why did the man in front of me at Hot Yoga yesterday think that getting a tattoo of Marilyn Monroe on his left calf was a good idea?

How does Burger King make their breakfast biscuits so good?

Why do I only want these breakfast biscuits when I am on my period?

Why does the drive-thru girl at Burger King get irritated with me when I ask for a plain biscuit every morning for a week out of every month?

How do Velcro curlers work? I mean, it amazes me that my hair actually curls using rollers with no heat in them.

Why do I think I am in a perfectly pleasant mood until someone talks to me and I bite their head off and realize that I am not in a good mood at all?

Why do babies wait until they have a clean diaper on to go poo?

Why does my baby prefer to go poo while standing in the back of my walk-in closet... right behind my bridesmaid dress from my sister's wedding?

Why is is that I can't stand the Wiggles and think they are all mentally deranged, but I have little crushes on the Imagination Movers?

Why can't I go to Vegas with my friend just because my husband is deployed? What trouble could I possibly get into in Vegas?

Why did Jennifer Aniston ever date that tool John Mayer?

Why does the nail polish on my toes last for years, but the nail polish on my fingers only lasts for half a day before it chips?

How come there are not any shows on TV like Laverne and Shirley or Happy Days anymore?

Am I the only one that misses big hair'd 80's rock bands?

Why do I feel the need to buy magazines that will give the diet secrets of the stars when I know that their secrets are really just diet pills and starvation?

Why is plastic surgery so damn expensive.

Why does my 14 year old think she deserves a social life on the weekend? pffft.

Why does a rabbit hide eggs? Rabbits don't lay eggs, they lay rabbits... Why don't we have a Easter Chicken?

Why does getting a text message excite me?

Why does it take me 30 minutes to text someone back and it only takes them half a second to respond again?

What in the world is a SMS Message?

Is Chad Kroeger married?



Rode Hard and Put Up Wet... All The Way To Miss June's Monday Swoon

(Thanks for the photog Outlaw)

A wise woman put her request in early for this week's Monday Swoon. It seems that cowboys are what makes her all giddy and happy... and you know me, I aim to please when it comes to the faithful Six-Packers.

When I read that she wanted cowboys-I didn't hesitate and happily started scouring the Internet for photogs of celebrities in cowboy roles-because let's face it ladies-the Monday Swoons are all about the eye candy that we see at the movies. I could put my husband on the Monday Swoon every week... but eventually you all would want to hunt me down and kill me so that you could steal my meaty piece of swoon and I have to protect what is mine, and THAT is why I put celebrities on this blog. Honest. Cross my heart.

I sat and tried to think of a movie star who was a cowboy and I came up with little because if I am being honest, cowboy movies are for the mens-not the wimins... and even though we may go see a cowboy movie with our main squeeze, we really don't want to be there but are going in order to make the man that we love and adore happy... because that is what we women are all about... making our man happy. Happy and content. Happy, content and in charge. Happy, content, in charge and made to think he is Superman. Yep-Superman. I don't know how men misread our signals because I know as well as you do that we women would not complain one iota about socks on the floor or the toilet seat up if they would just put a cowboy hat on every once in a while, tip it at us when they see us and say "Howdy Ma'am" with a southern drawl that would make our knees weak. It wouldn't hurt if they had a pair of Wrangler jeans on and some cowboy boots complete with spurs and the earth's dirt from a hard day out on the ranch either.

Yes Sir... we are simple creatures aren't we ladies?

So... without further adieu, let's saddle up shall we?

Now, because of Six-Pack rules and guidelines, it states in chapter 45 page 764 line 4 subtext 7b, of the "handbook" that I must put a movie star on the Monday Swoon... so I put the only cowboy movie star that I could think of. Sam Elliot is the only one I could think of because once I remembered that he was Virgil Earp in Tombstone-I couldn't remember what day it was let alone any other actors playing cowboys. I mean, just look at him.... if he ain't a swoon-I don't know who is!

Black hat... check. Ironed shirt... check. Strong jaw... check. Tiny waist above a tiny ass... check.

8 seconds... that is all I need too.

Look at the power between his legs. Mercy.

I wonder if he likes to watch sunsets over the prairie.

I would like to kiss the person who invented chaps.

You can carry a gun on you... but you can't go into a bar with spurs on your boots. Honest-that was a rule when we lived in Prescott AZ-no spurs allowed on your boots in a bar... but you could have your gun as long as it was not concealed... so not only were there cowboys with hats and boots and wranglers-but they had holsters attached to their waists slightly slinging down with a gun sitting in it. No wonder all of those pioneer women had so many babies.

Seriously? Is it getting hot in here?

Oh Lawsy me!

Cowboy 1: "So last night I ran a bath for my wife and put bubbles in it and lit some candles."
Cowboy 2: "Nah?"

Cowboy 1: "Yessir, I read in Cosmo that the lady folk like that kind of thing."

Cowboy 3: "Really, What else did you read?"

Cowboy 1: "Women like a sensitive man-so I listened to her talk about her fight with her best girlfriend for an hour."

Cowboy2: "Nah?"

Cowboy 1: "Yeah, and then I suggested that we just cuddle when we went to bed."

Cowboy 3: "What kind of devil book is this Cosmo?"

Cowboy 1: "It works I tell ya! When I suggested we cuddle she told me to go get my chaps on-and nothing else and meet her in the bedroom."

Cowboy 2: "Nah?"

Cowboy 1: "Cosmo knows it's stuff, now lets go get all dirty and sweaty and brand us some livestock."

Cowboy 3: "Are those the chaps you wore last night?"

Cowboy 1: "Yeah, why?"

Cowboy 3: "Are they the ones you wore on Monday when we cut all of the calf nuts off and you were wiping your bloody knife on them?"

Cowboy 1: "Yeah... so?"

Cowboy 3: "I wonder what Cosmo would say about that!"

Have saddle... will ride.

Mama's don't let your babies grow up to be Cowboys... because then they would look like this and I don't know if the earth could stand to have too many men who looked like they could eat nails for breakfast. Us women would get NOTHING done!

That is either a angry bull behind him or an angry woman. eh, I bet is it a bull... how could anyone stay mad long at a man who could stand like that? The anticipation is killin' me!

Cowboys are patriots.

Enjoy ladies! Y'all come back now ya' hear?