Greedy Has No Limits

Sometimes I wonder if people even stop to think before they open their mouths. Marie Douglas-David married her husband, George in 2002, but the marriage was in trouble by 2004. Amid a series of reconciliations, the couple signed a post nuptial agreement in October 2005 that would give her $43 million when they divorce. However, Mrs. Davids now thinks that is not enough. Not enough?? Are you crazy? Does she realize that the average person will never have that amount of wealth in a life time? That is almost $53,000 a week which is more than the average person makes in a year.


Apparently, Mrs. David has developed some rather expensive tastes over the last seven years including maintaining a Park Avenue apartment and three residences in Sweden. She includes in her weekly expenses $700 for limousine services, $4,500 for clothes, $1,000 for hair and skin treatments, $1,500 for restaurants and entertainment, and $8,000 for travel. What the hell does this woman do? Does she really expect the world to believe that she is somehow entitled to such a lavish and dare I say "wasteful" life style.

A mere $43 million isn't going to work for her. Oh,no.....she needs $100 million plus an additional $130,000 a month in alimony. Is she really not thinking correctly? How on Earth could the judge possibly even take this case seriously? She wants more in one month of alimony then he makes in a year.

Now, I shouldn't be too hard on her as I have no idea what kind of hell this man has put her through for the past seven years of their marriage. She might righteously deserve every penny she gets and then some. Did he beat her...flagrantly cheat on her...force her to do unspeakable things in the name of love...lock her in the basement for the past twenty years with no sunlight...slowly poison her...I mean come on....What did he do that she deserves so much money???....I just want to know....WHAT??? 43 million is a lot for someone who hasn't suffered more than having an appointment canceled... Please, please....at least make the rest of the world somehow see you as the victim and deserving of such a huge settlement.

A word from someone who has been there and back....A sympathy verdict from the judge in one's favor is a whole hell of a lot better than being cast as a greedy, gold-digging bitch. This stereotype will earn you little more than the shoes in which you walked though the courtroom doors. Marie, you have been warned!!

Summer Vacation...Swim with the wild ponies??

Well, here we are...two months until the end of school and no definite summer vacation plans. I keep tossing around the idea of Chincoteague Island. It seems like a place made in far away dreams...crystal clear water, pristine beaches, wild ponies roaming free, seafood dockside, beautiful sunsets...sign me up.
But, somewhere in the back of my mind, I keep sensing something wrong with something so perfect. I imagine the two hour drive from hell to get to the hotel. The check-in desk with the receptionist who moves like a snail. The never ending mysteries that lurk behind the door to our home for the next week. But, the most dreaded part is the smell of the ponies. I am envisioning a hot summer day in June as we head out to the beach and watch the ponies. Just a few thoughts that cross my mind...who exactly is cleaning up the ponie poop....where do they pee.....do they have fleas....I bet the beach really stinks....are there a lot of flies and mosquitoes....how close will these things actually get to us....do they bite???
All of a sudden my trip to paradise has turned into camping out at the local zoo. I realize that I can not think like this as my daughter really wants to see the ponies roaming free. So, it is with hestiation, that I call the hotel ranked number three by tripadisor to inquire about our stay on ponie poop island....oops...I mean Chincoteague.

Gotta Go!

It never fails. My six-year old daughter seems to have an uncanny ability to time her "poops" for whenever we leave the house. It doesn't seem to matter where we are going or how long we are there. I know the inevitable is coming, "Mommy, I gotta go". I have visited every bathroom imaginable to mankind. The bathroom that is located after walking through an elaborate labyrinth of boxes piled sky high in stores rooms or up five flights of rickety stairs that sound like they are going to give way any second. I have endured excruciating smells, walls covered with things to horrid to imagine, floors wet with the unthinkable and bathrooms that should have had condemned signs on them. All this to ensure that my daughter can take her customary "poop".

It truly does not matter the length of the trip. A quick drive to pick up Chinese take-out...I gotta go, a ride around the block for gas...I gotta go, a dash to the library to return books...I gotta go, the movie store, the post office, the Hallmark Store...it just doesn't seem to matter.

I am not sure how to end this bizarre habit with my daughter. The worst is always the dinner out. We spend more time in the bathroom then we do at our table. There is always the first trip to just pee which is followed by the second trip to "poop" after which is the culminating trip to pee just one more time. "Is this normal," I ask myself? How come I don't see any other parents in the bathroom with their kids. I am not sure but there must be some bizarre psychological explanation for this phenomena known as the "I gotta go syndrome", but, of course, only when I am with Mommy.

Where do they come from?

Every morning I leave approximately the same time for work. I am usually in no inherent rush as I always give myself a little leeway in case the unpredictable happens. I have my daily routine pretty much down to a science. Drop my daughter off at the neighbors, a quick stop at WaWa for coffee, and I am on my way. A leisurely thirty five minute drive through the country which one would assume would be extremely relaxing.

OH, NO!! It never seems to fail that I get stuck behind the slowest driver known to mankind...grandpa and grandma out for a morning drive. Who in the world gets up at 6:30am just to drive around the country? What on God's Earth could be so important that they have to leave their home while the rest of the world is going to work? What I ask...What? It's usually at this point that I lose all patience and become a lunatic behind the wheel.

Employing all tactics known to the angry driver to get the person in front of me to move faster I pull up on their rear bumper close enough so someone passing me might think I am being towed by them. This does no good as they don't even check their rear view mirror. I am assuming they couldn't see me even if they did look. I try the swerving out to make them think I am passing them maneuver, but they don't even notice. I back off and then drive up on their rear real quick to scare them, but once again they don't even notice. Where, oh where, are they going? The sun hasn't even come up.

Okay, I give them one last chance to pick up the speed or this time I am really going to show them what road rage is all about. I rev the engine in anticipation of the pass. As I begin to get in the left lane, they do the unthinkable...Right hand turn with no signal. I should have seen it coming. Well, now at least I can enjoy the rest of my drive.

Suddenly, a car pulls out at the next intersection. I swear they must radio each other to let them know our location. This time grandma is behind the wheel, and I know she isn't doing more than twenty miles an hour for the entire stretch of the road. With the engine still ready for me to floor the gas pedal, I pass her in time to arrive at a stop light. She pulls up behind me unaware that I am even there. I am not sure she even knows I just drove right past her.

As the light turns green, she fades into the morning sky.

Two Crazy Cats

I swore when we moved into our new home that I would never have another pet that required air to sustain life. This pretty much rules out everything except maybe your occasional pet rock. My daughter was only two when we first began construction on our new home. A "Fur Real" cat more than satisfied her need for an animal companion and mine for not having to clean out a liter box on a daily basis.



However, as children age they become wiser. No longer does the cat who only moves when you touch him equate to a real animal who can walk on all fours. Even those meow sounds are sounding a lot less real. My daughter wanted a real live cat. So, we began the search for our perfect companion. The SPCA was full of kittens, but none ever possessed the right mixture of qualities for me to fall in love at first sight.

It wasn't until weeks of searching that we happened upon Flounder. He is now our lovable lump who has been with us for almost four years. He has endured a lot as my daughter has cleverly taught him to use the toilet for a house, the suitcase for a means of travel and the banister as a quick elevator for getting downstairs.

As with all things. we decided that Flounder needed a house mate to keep him company. Our search began again for his long lost twin. Within a few months, my new home, that was sworn to never have a pet that required air to sustain life, was now the happy home to our second cat, Scampi.

Children are just too darn cute!

Pimp This Mom

Okay, I will admit that I have seen a lot in my day. While reading the MSN news today, I came across something that I just could not resist checking out further; a website called "Pimp this Bum". Now, I think I have pretty much seen everything. The site is dedicated to a real life bum, Tim Edwards. Considering his background, you can not help but feel sympathetic for his cause as it could just as easily be you or I in his position. Tim lost his job as an office manager and apparently was unable to obtain any other employment. It seems his life spiraled down from there causing him to lose his house and car. One can not help feel sorry for him.

The Internet is an amazing tool as it allows someone like Tim to become nationally recognized in a matter of days. His plight has now been taken up by Sunray Treatment and recovery which is an alcohol detox program in Seattle. They are generously providing the $13,800, 35-day program free of charge. Of course, the free publicity doesn't hurt either.

I am wondering how I can get someone to sponsor me on a Pimp this Mom site. I would be more than willing to hold dirty clothes, a vacuum cleaner, school back packs or maybe even a sponsor item for endorsement purposes. Anyone know what I need to get started?

For those of you who are curious you can check it out at http://www.ascendgence.com/pimpthisbum/index.aspx.

Where are my kids...Just Let the Phone Ring

It never fails. I can go all morning without ever seeing my six year old. Sometimes I think I might not even have a child. She is so immersed in her life that I am just a mere second to the fantasy world of webkins, Bratz, Disney TV and the mysteries of her bedroom. A thousand times I can call her name with no response. After searching frantically for her, I get the usual, "I didn't hear you" after which any other "Mom attention" is quickly diverted to the task at which she is currently working.

Sometimes, I wonder if the floor just opened up and swallowed me before her eyes if she would even take the time to wave good-bye. Alas, I have found the magic wand to cure what could have been years of being ignored by my children. Just let that phone ring. Whatever was the latest pressing engagement for my six year old can now take the back seat. Mommy has a phone call. How dare she not be thinking of me every second! Who could possibly be more important than me? Of course, I am immediately inundated with demands, screaming and crying and what seems like World War III happening in my office. Where was my sweet, innocent six-year old when I wanted to have some Mommy time with her?

The incessant whining picks up pace as the phone call lingers. The tugging at my arm almost pulls me off my seat. What could be so important I wonder. I try to ignore the desperate sobbing that I now hear coming from underneath a blanket parked beside my chair. The relentless kicking which vibrates the floor begins to get on my last nerve. As I desperately try to talk to the person on the other end of the line, I realize that this might just be a real emergency. What if this were the one time I didn't pay attention and the house burnt down. After all, I have to be mindful of the time my daughter tried to tell me the microwave was on fire while I was on the phone. I dismissed this as an attention grabbing tactic. Needless to say, the entire kitchen was full of smoke from two buttermilk biscuits that were burnt to a crisp. With this picture fresh in my mind, I decide to end my phone call.

As I rush out of the office screaming my daughters name, I see her calmly sitting in front of the television enthralled in the latest episode of Hannah Montana. I ask her what is causing her to break down in hysterics and she answers, "Nothing mommy, I am trying to watch TV." Did I just imagine that tirade of pathetic proportions aimed at getting me off the phone? I think not. What's a Mom to do? ring...ring...ring... Gotta go.

Tables are Open

It's the weekend. The most perplexing two questions become, "Where and what will we eat?" Living in a small town makes the choices all that more difficult. There are some good restaurants, but there are few that really specialize in anything unique. However, I can always count on my top ten favorites when all else fails. Sometimes this requires a trip across the bridge into Philly.

1. The Franklinville Inn
2. The Centerton Inn
3. Bruno's Restaurant and Pizzeria
4. Dante and Luigi - my all time personal favorite in Philly
5. The Barnsboro Inn
6. Scotland Run Country Club
7. Don's Bagels
8. The Hollywood Diner
9. The Library
10. The Maplewood

Just the mere mention of Dante and Luigi's makes my mouth water. I envision the tiny side street in Philly that is home to a plethora of Italian delicacies that I have been enjoying since my college days. Set back among row homes in the South Philly section of Philadelphia this neighborhood gem never disappoints. We park in what seems like the warehouse section and walk up the side street to the restaurant's entrance. There are usually a few valets hanging out waiting to park the occasional car that pulls up. Once inside we are transported to the smells and sounds of Italy. The old bar room on the right reminds me of many Italian kitchens I have seen growing up. However, my favorite room is on the left. With fewer than twenty tables, this room is like eating in your grandma's kitchen.

The menu is always impressive. However, I have to stick with my standards. The roasted peppers, Italian cheeses and anchovies could be a meal within itself. The fresh bread and olive oil compliment the dish and often make me wonder why I order a diner. But, my linguine and clams arrives and then I remember why. What a perfect meal. This place never disappoints. And, while they do not take charge cards, you can always write a personal check.

A lot...it's two words not one!!

Sometimes I want to stand in front of the classroom and scream. It seems the simplest spelling words often pose the most perplexing problems for my students. I try to tackle this early in the school year with a list of the most common misspelled words. For most students, that list just seems to get shuffled somewhere into the realm of the unknown. We have week after week of spelling tests, but all my effort always appears to be in vain.

I read journals with the all too familiar witch instead of which would make one wonder how these children ever get ready for Halloween. I have seen all kinds of spelling. However, the funniest to date would have to be a student in my sixth grade class who spelled contradict as he thought it sounded...countrydick. As I graded that paper, I could not help but laugh out loud. Thirty-six little eyeballs turned toward the laughter and eighteen mouths asked simultaneously, "What's so funny?". With the answer on the tip of my tongue, but unsure how to tell sixth grade students that someone just wrote "country dick" as the correct spelling for #20, I had to come up with a quick lie. Lucky for me the bell rang.

This joke was just to good to pass up as I shared it with the teacher next to me. She in turn shared it with another teacher. A good laugh like that is hard to come by. It's what makes the top ten list on the late shows. Too bad I hadn't thought of that before I handed the test back.