My husband and I, we have a need to destress in these times.

Raising 5 kids isn’t a fraction of it. We’re constantly thinking, pondering, mulling over, discussing. And then there’s family and coupledom we have to take care of. You get the point.

So, aside from *ahem*, the usual destressor, we love to laugh. My husband’s the best heckler. I definitely lucked out with the best of them.

From the NRB’s Couric and Bloomberg Bet that Times Square Bomber Part of Tea Party  (yes, I got incensed when I first read this.. we .. avoid CBSfuse) by Forsmark:

Couric and Bloomberg might sound like the name of a 70s New York Cop show; but these two duh-tectives made Inspector Clouseau look like Sherlock Holmes Monday night.

The Mayor and the Anchorette (alternative title) graced us with this inane bit of dialogue which was most certainly NOT ripped from the pages of one of Ed McBain’s 87^th Precinct thrillers [sorry, David, never read]:

COURIC: Law enforcement officials don`t know who left the Nissan Pathfinder behind, but at this point, the mayor believes the suspect acted alone.

BLOOMBERG: If I had to guess 25 cents, this would be exactly that, somebody—

COURIC (on camera): A home-grown.

BLOOMBERG: Home-grown, maybe a mentally deranged person or somebody with a political agenda that doesn`t like the health-care bill or something. It could be anything.

Yeah.

Aside from the obvious (you jerk, Bloomberg),  man, what a cheapskate. 25 cents?

But being the polybibliophile, this was yet another thing for me to look up.

The vid’s here. (Don’t go there, it’s not worth the dignity of your eyeballs to place your glance upon these lepers of democracy (free elections, and public discourse through a free press? puh!). If you’re a glutton, go for it. I understand the mentality of you rubberneckers who like to gawk upon the gore of crash scenes. Couric and Bloomberg = not nice, don’t give them your time. But, hey .. free country.)

So, yeah, ok .. I went there, as your journalist, to report. (But take my advice anyway — don’t.)

Hubby and I are huddled near the laptop, trying to listen.

Me: What the hell?

Hubby: Of course.

Me: But, why?

Hubby:  .. [completely straight-faced]  He wants to get in her pants. It’s the only reason a man purposefully acts stupid.

As you can see from the pic posted, they are standing in front of live feeds from cameras in and around Times Square. Are you telling me Bloomberg had not – by the time of this interview –  examined, scrutinized and re-examined with law enforcement the video of this shot, and with their expertise in dealing with the multitudes, had not determined we were looking for someone of Arabic decent?

Don’t they have zoom-in capabilities and video enhancement technology, or are we that we behind in our innovation?

Bloomberg the desperate dog.

I didn’t realize Katie was still single. Did you?

Crossposted at Redstate and my blog.

This is a true story.

My little 1st grader got home, just as Mom was pulling out and plugging in the vacuum.

Me: “Hey, Baby, how was your day?”

7-Year-Old Baby: “Great, Mom. Today was Earth Day.”

Me: [shouting over vacuum]: “Okaaay, great. Your snack’s on the table. I’ll be right with you.” [VRRROOOOOM!!!!]

..

Pardon me, PC-ers. Hell. It’s not even about PC anymore. In today’s American progressive body politic, we are openly being bullied into adopting a lifestyle not many of us would have chosen for our own. No one even thinks about who funds the junk science anymore, or who the researchers, hungry for cash to keep themselves employed in this freaking economy, are really working for — science or the state?

Enviro-statism has wormed its way into every crevice of society, without even being legislated through Congress. It was Ban ki-Moon, the Secretary-General of the UN, who said that these sort of progressive ideas needed to be “embedded into the culture.”

Right.

So, now we have children coming home throughout the year, mumbling about recycling, badgering us about our light-bulb usage, showing us their colored recycling diagrams alongside their completed math handouts. We have “Environmental Stimulus Cash Back!” stickers posted on every appliance at Sears (where we just got our new energy-efficient dishwasher). We have recycled milk jugs, our spouses filling out energy consumption reports, our corporations reporting on how they protect the environment via corporate citizenship.

All without passing a single Environmental piece of legislation through Congress.

Some would say, “Without firing a shot.”

Do many of us consider the depth of environmental “embedding” into our culture? Do many of us try to trace back or apply true meaning to the policies that are manifest in our daily lives? No.

Too many of us are trying to survive, keep our jobs, feed our children. The time we do have, the time we try to carve out of our meager existence here in America, we try to have fun and remove ourselves from the obvious: that nearly everything we do is politicized.

Where is our “life”?

Well, I know the depth of the embedding .. I know how the progressive agenda is trying to put “meaning” into my life, so to counter that, today, in honor of Earth Day, I will do this: make ferocious love to my husband and fuck like there is no tomorrow, in remembrance of God creating man to be stewards and lord of all the Earth and of all the creatures and slimy things.

I will remember the naturalness of our bodies, and how they fit together and were intended to procreate.

I will remember how marriage and procreation glorify God.

I will remember that “children are the embodiment of the marital embrace,” as my husband has whispered to me during our lovemaking, and celebrate how children, the fruit of our lovemaking, are a blessing, not a burden or a punishment.

I will remember that we come from the Earth, to be lord over the earth, not its slave, and that the Earth is a gift from God, but that the Earth is not God. Nor is the almighty dollar nor that guy in office.

I will remember that my life is a gift from God, and that lives of my husband and children are gifts from God, and are a gift to me in my lifetime, and are an expression of His love for me.

I will remember that my husband is a gift to me, a most precious gift, from God.

And I will reward my husband, with my body, and show him how much I love and appreciate that he is a conservative, God-fearing man who loves his wife, kids, friends and country.

Today, when he gets home, I will show him that no single man has it better than him, and that for all his sacred honor and the noble life I know he would give in a moment to protect me, our kids, and our country, I will be Me, Every Woman and No Other Woman to him.

This is the prerogative and duty of every conservative woman out there.

The femni-Nazi, pro-abortion whores who belittle the Conservative Woman and the Conservative Mother, they have no holds over us, girls. We will love our men and steal our families back from the brink of hell, which is Progressivism, even if it means doing it with our own bodies, just as the men we love would sacrifice their bodies so that we may live.

Our bodies.

They’ve been to hell and back and we can handle it. Especially while giving joy to the ones we love most, and having fun while doing it.  

What we can give, the pleasure we can bestow, it’s almost nothing, yet everything at the same time.

..

So.. after the vacuuming:

Me: Okay, Baby, tell me what happened today.

7-year-old-Baby: Mom, we’re having a very special day..

Me: You mean Earth Day?

7-year-old-Baby: No, Mom .. we have a very special day coming up.

Me: What’s that?

7-year-old-Baby: Mother’s Day! Today we started making our cards for you!

What a damn, cool teacher.

Earth Day, ladies and gents. Go celebrate your earthy selves, maybe try to make an earthy baby to add to the conservative population to kick these Progressives the hell out of office in future, and steal back our American democracy they want to steal away from us for all perpetuity.

Tonight, log off of Twitter, close your browser, shut down the computer, and put down your cell phone with all those cool apps. 

Tonight, make love, not political war.

Let’s thank and remember God, first and foremost, for our ability to do so.

While we still can, before the size of our family is “embedded” away.

Crossposted at Citizen Scholar, Redstate, The Next Right, Smart Girl Politics.

I’ve dwindled down to buying a fashion magazine or two at the start of every season to see what’s “in.” For almost 2 years now — I would have to say since the start of the gasoline hike of ‘08 — I’ve had to ditch the luxury of throwing in a mag on the fly at the market check-out.

None of this “How CUTE! Look at that haircut, I need this magazine!!” Sadly. Gone is that habit of impulse with this woman .

Every now and then, though, I pretend to indulge, like at the start of the spring season.

Today, I bought Elle & read this to hubby on the drive home:

Me: It says here, “This month, ELLE.com chats with blah-blah-blah authors of Undateable: 311 Things Guys Do That Guanratee They Won’t Be Dating or Having Sex. Part illustrated rule book, part bad-date bible, Undateable lists hundreds of men’s dating mis-steps, from lane catchprhases to cutoff jeans. And dudes, if you’re paying any attention, here are a few highlights from the book that might explain why you’re not getting any.”

“No. 9: Corporate swag. Windbreakers, sweatshirts, golf shirts, and gym bags emblazoned with the company logo scream ‘free clothes.’ Don’t look to your empoloyers to dress you. They’ve got other things to do, like running the company. Never in the history of human sexuality was a woman ever passionately growled, “I can’t wait to get home and rip that Met Life shirt off you.”

[we both laugh]

Me: “No. 57: The comb over.”

Hubby: Stop! That’s number 57?

Me: Yeah, so?

Hubby: You mean the dude with no hair is better off than the guy with the logo’d shirt? A comb-over is No. 57 on the list? So it’s better to have no hair and and own your own clothes than to have hair and wear a “thanks award”?

[we chuckle .. I'm surprised at hubby's use of man-logic on my girlie magazine]

Me: It continues, “Accept the fact that you are going bald with some grace. Go google some pictures of Ed Harris to see why removing your last four pieces of hair is a kick-ass idea.”

Ed Harris .. from Apollo.

Hubby: Yeah.

Me: But he’s got a man-face.

Hubby: He’s cut.

Me: Ages well, like Sean Connery.

Hubby: Right.

Me: Yeah, but not every man looks good bald.

[we agree]

Me: Anyway .. “No. 155: Made up words. Chill-axin’, Anyhoos. Ginormous. Redonkulous. Dealio.” Yeah, that sucks.

Hubby: Yep.

Me: ‘No. 220: Sissy driving. If a guy is tentative and awkward behind the wheel, he’ll be  tentative and awkward in  bed.’

Huh!

Hubby: Well, then you don’t have to worry about anything, baby. See?.. Now stop complaining about my driving. 

A good laugh.

Then I read the healthcare article.. Oy.

We’re at the park, letting the 2 youngest play .. waiting for #3 to come home in 20, the eldest 2 before 5p:

Hubby: I been hearing birds all day. Birds in the mornin’ outside my window when I woke up at 6a, outside the window at my meeting at work, birds here with you in the park. Bird’s in the mornin’, birds in the afternoon.

It’s just like you.

Beautiful weather. .. You’re beautiful weather.

Got after the kid this evening, sometime after telling my husband, “You need to speak to him. These days .. something there, take care of it for me.”

There was a semblance of unresponsiveness from our 15-yr old. You know, it happens. You work with it. You gently work against it to direct.

But enough consistent behavior warrants a serious discussion.

When we got home, we had a brief talk – I ended up talking with our son as well. It was an issue of “We’re not asking much. Be aware of this. Please be pleasant.”

Sometime soon after, though, I asked him to put the DVD discs back in their cases. You know how it is .. they “collect.”

He skulked — did something else with his body language — and Mom came out of her reserve.

I hardly ever get after my kid. We talk. Constantly.

And while I am aware of the possibility of extenuating circumstances — bad day at school, friends being crappy — darlin’, it ain’t our fault. Don’t give us this, not when we give you everything — love, support, encouragement. It’s not hard. It’s expected. And the good habit is easy.

So, I like to nip in the bud. Let some slide .. but I trust my mother’s intuition when enough’s enough .. especially when it comes to justice.

At this point, I’ll tell you I’m a Justice Fiend.

That doesn’t sound right.

I love Justice.

To me, goodness comes from the innate sense of Justice we are compelled to lay witness to in this lifetime. It’s ingrained in our soul.

This is how we do what is right, what is good. If it we didn’t do what was right, what was good — it wouldn’t be fair. To someone. You, me. Your friend. Your parents. God.

And it strikes the conscience.

So, while my son had been pouty for a couple of days — in which instances we would address accordingly, sometimes sternly, sometimes in an off-the-cuff, let’s just move on and adjust sort of way — what happened with those DVD disks was this:

For about 2-3 months now, I had told him REPEATEDLY to put those dang things away. We’ve a very busy household here. Tasks get assigned. The most important ones, the most consistent onces that need to be addressed — say, for daily maintenance and peace and sanity in the house — we watch and follow through on. These stupid disks weren’t one of these priority tasks.

The DVDs aren’t our treasure that we’re meticulous about. So, yes .. this task slid. Again and again. Probably asked 3 times in a matter of 6 weeks. But not once did we scold or nag or bitch or yell.

So when he gave me that body language, it wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair. Not to me, as a parent. Not to what I have offered him — letting it slide, as we realize he has a lot on his plate as an honor student, an athlete, the eldest son — and not to himself.

To me, he didn’t self-monitor and sense for a moment that he was at fault for those disks still lying around out of their cases. Again: the reason I was nagging him at this very instant — if you could call it as much (I asked nicely and respectfully) — was because he didn’t take care of this little chore in the first place. It was a 15 minute gig, tops.

So I got after him. And addressed the fair issue a bit.

But I mostly concentrated on my concern that he didn’t sense it was his failed responsibility that led us to this point. This lack of self-monitoring, it bothered me.

And I told him it was time for him to tweak it.

He needs to speak with God, I told him — like prayer, but to talk with Him. And ask for this sort of englightenmnet, knowledge and self-awareness. It’s internal and comes opposite of constantly observing and critiquing the world. It’s self-observation.

And the Kid needed to do it more, I told him.

Have your conversations with God, make the connections he give you in your life,  and contemplate within your soul — for your soul formation.

And always, son, pray for gratitude for the life God has given you, for the family in which he has placed you in, for all that you have, all that you have received, all that you have not had to endure.

Be thankful and accepting of the place where God has put you.

Yes .. all this instigated by a couple of DVDs. We don’t do this often. But, like one can think, every now and then, a kid needs a spanking, every now and then, a kid needs to be reminded to appreciate his parents, his family, his God.

To be just.

And to take care of his soul.

If we don’t tell them, who will??

As I right this, Vice President Joe Biden is speaking, about to turn the podium over to “the guy that made it happen” on socialized healthcare.

I told my husband a few days ago I could cry when the this vote for socialism would change the face of the country we so love.

I didn’t cry. I haven’t cried. Not even when Biden says Obama has inserted the “final girder” in the “social network in this country.”

The only person who has made me cry this week is my husband .. because though I certainly love my country, I love my God even more .. and I cannot think of a more appreciate moment in my life than yesterday afternoon.

New Ledger had a post up yesterday — The Catholic Failure – that went into detail criticizing Stupak, American Bishops and the cadre of other catholic congressmen I didn’t know about.

I was prepared to lamblast this writer out of what I expect with his title “The Catholic Failure.” My mood changed when Christopher Badeaux cited Kennedy, Leahy, Kucinich, Drinan, Durbin, Pelosi, Casey (Jr.), Mitchell, Sebelius, Cuomo.

You have to know how angry I am about this socialist healthcare. When I saw the list, I was appreciative. My comment reflected this appreciation.

Soon after, my husband read my comment — I had tweeted it — and he emailed me a response that I immediately posted for him.

And although he cited his own words, he clarified my beliefs on the issue of faith.

And with this, I began to weep.

In full appreciation to God for having placed this wonderful man in my life; in appreciation for having a spouse who believes as I do; in appreciation for having this wonderful, wonderful person in my life to share my life and my Faith; in appreciation for giving me this gift of a so intimate a person — my spouse — to help me grow in my Faith and love in God; in appreciation for being able to feel appreciation and love for my God.

I could go on..

And in those moments of gratitude, I wept, and my concern for my country melted away, because no matter what is legislated or how my country changes, I will always have my Faith and my God.

They could kill me for it, but so what — we have heaven.

No — we have in imperfect marriage. We argue and tiff and have spats and “discussion.”

And although I can say my husband compliments me in every way in my life — I pamper the children, he warns; I disclipline the children, he hugs and wipes the tears; he works, I spend — in matters of Faith and God, we move along together and help one another, and we have never, ever talked about this as one of our objectives in this marriage.

It’s soul-speak.

We’ve experienced it when we wake up after our dreams, sometimes having the same sleep-story to share.

And I know it’s God, our Guardian Angels or our souls speaking to one another.

Just like yesterday.

For this, I cry. A happy cry.

God bless America.

God bless marriages everywhere and people trying to sort their stuff out.

It is so worth it.

Beginning about two years ago, probably further back,white whiskers began to pepper my guys’ goatee.

Goatees are a fave among the shave-once-a-week tech guys. Let the beard grow for a week, turn the growth into a sexy goatee that allow for non-shaving for an additional week .. restart process.

At some point, the white hairs spread to his head. It began with a few on either side of the temples. Now they’re fiercely trying to plant a colony of themselves in the front part of his hair.

My guy had me pulling out all the white hairs before going out for his haircut. “While they are still long,’ he said.

Me:  Y’know, I don’t know why you’re making me do this. Your white hairs are what God intended. You should leave them alone.

Hubby: [silence] .. make sure you get them from the root.

Me: I think it’s very attractive, too. I like your salt-n-pepper look.

[silence while I continue to pluck w/ tweezers]

Me: And just so you know, it’s a natural thing, I would think, for me to be attracted to the salt-n-pepper-look than the look of a younger man. Our kids are young adults now, and it would just be wrong to think that young men are “hot.” The same would go for young women, don’t you think? There’s something wrong with these 50-year-old men who want to grope and touch an 18-year-old stripper, for example.

Hubby: That’s true.

Me: Maybe those are men who weren’t close to their daughters, who don’t see their daughters in these young women, the same for older women who look at younger men.

Hubby: True.

Me:   And as we get older, that’s why we stay attracted to our spouses, even though they’re not “fresh” anymore, because when we see our children getting older, and that sort of attraction just doesn’t fly. It shouldn’t. .. So, no, yeah, baby, the salt-n-pepper look’s attractive. Don’t feel like you have to compete with these 25-yr-old men.

Hubby: [pensive] Thanks for telling me this. I never thought about it that way .. [silence, still thinking]

Me: Good. Because now you’ve got 4 weeks to get over it, because this is the last time I’m doing this for you. [kiss]

You may wonder why I’m up. .. I have about 4 hours to go, yet.

Before Codebreaker and go on vacation for a full week to join us on the kids’ Spring Break, he had to get several systems online after having moved them cross-country in office consolidations.

“Loose ends.”

He’s been busting his ass all week, completely non-stop this weekend with 15-hour days.

But we are grateful and feel blessed because he just survived .. gee, what must be something like his 5th, maybe 6th round of layoffs, since joining the company 11, 12 years ago.

So, he’ll work.

Earlier this week, after groveling all day, he gave me a hug and called me “His Oasis.”

And so, this second night, I stay up with him as he trudges away, to keep him company.

This post is rated R-ish for cussing and vulgar imagery about dictators and the celebrities who love them.

**

Codebreaker and I recently had a discussion.

Me: Y’know, he’s a brand. I would much rather put up with an Obama fashion line and Obama cologne and Obama Wear than to have him in office. Someone like Sean D. Puffy Puff Daddy Combs.

CB: You don’t know what you’re sayin’.

Me: What? Of course I know what I’m saying!

CB: No, no, no you don’t …

[some thoughtful silence]

Me: … Oh, hell no, I don’t want him as a celebrity.

CB: That’s right. You want another Sean Penn?

And, of course, you know what we’re talking about: that group of side-circus, lefist celebrity whackos like Sean “Yeah,-Chavez,-we-Got-A-Earthquake-Machine!-Jail-the-Journalists-Who-Call-You-”Dicator’ !” Penn and Danny “Global-Warming-Causes-Earthquakes-I’d French-Kiss-Fidel’s-Ass-If-I-Could” Glover.

No, these are not nice people.

And I don’t like them.

Had Obama not such high ambition to be Das World Leader, he’d be just like them, an aging, B-Rate Actor trying to hock his rhetoric or his latest straight-to-DVD $2.50-bin movie.

I wish.

I joke, but the truth is, the opinion of celebrities and movie stars carry a lot of weight. Because they revel in the entertainment business, which is everyone and their Grandma’s favorite American pasttime, maybe second to sports.

And when they speak, the dolts listen.

So .. kudos to movie stars who skoff at requests for a political opinion.

I can name two:

Brad Pitt:

Reporters ask me what I feel China should do about Tibet. Who cares what I think China should do? I’m a fucking actor! They hand me a script. I act. I’m here for entertainment. Basically, when you whittle everything away, I’m a grown man who puts on makeup.

Morgan Freeman:

I’m an actor, not a politician. .. I don’t do race.

Regardless of their politics and short of any adoring rants for wretched dictators who shackle their people’s rights and freedoms turning up, I give these guys two thumbs up.

There is such a thing as “wrecking,” where one harvests shipwrecks down below (yar, matey!), but what hubby and I would do would be considerably different.

Akin to birdwatching.

I’d call it shipwrecking.

Where we’d tag along as passengers on some expedition, reading the history of explorers and conquistators. Possibly retracing one of their routes.

We’d be pensive and talk about it, write about it, and watch the sea for a month.

The article that spurned the idea: Gas pipeline probe uncovers shipwrecks in Baltic Sea.

Says Peter Norman, a senior advisor with the Swedish National Heritage Board:

We think many of the ships are from the 17th and 18th centuries and we think some could even be from the Middle Ages.

Wow.

To see one of these would be much more different that visiting a museum, where the curators sift & choose what you should see behind 1-inch panes of glass or formatted as a print on a wall.

Don’t you think?