Musings of This, That and Other Things

Musings of This, That and Other Things, 

As most of you know by reading this blog, my daughter moved out recently. This is the second false start for her, the first two being less than stellar living arrangements. Fingers crossed this time. * wink* . She has a three year old and is responsible with the bulk of child rearing expenses. (Not withstanding her parents contributions.) The biological father really isn't in the picture other than what the government makes him pay. It is a paltry amount given the cost of raising a child. He has tried to get my daughter to let him off the hook for it but don't get me started, it makes my blood boil. 

Anyhow after that long side track to the point of this musing..I bought her first grocery order to help her out, after she went shopping Chez Mom's Pantry. 

210$ dollars later, she was at my house for supper the very next day. I hadn't yet done a restocking grocery order and was scrambling to come up with something to eat.  What's wrong with this picture, my bloggy pals?! ( and yes, by the way, she has laundry days at my house as well.) 

How do you hide your age? Do you botox? Do you tan? ( although I've seen some of you, and sweeties, less is more mmkay? ) Do you chemical peel? Do you hide under a layer of makeup? 

Do you ever think of your hands? They are a walking neon sign of the age you are. 

I hate mine. With a passion. I try to hide them even from my view. I can wear makeup, I can tan, I can work out and wear funky clothes. But I can't hide my stupid hands. I'm sitting here in the darkness of my bedroom with nothing but the light of the laptop shining directly down on my hands. Shall I describe to you how vividly it illuminates everything? I'll say it again. I.Hate.My.Hands. 

Ok.. so explain me this. My daughter is called an unfit mother because my lil Boo drew on my pony wall. With a pen. (3 of us heard the statement) FYI: My daughter, at the same age, drew on my wall with permanent marker. Black was her choice of colour. What does that make me?  That same case of mouth diarrhea , a so called 'youth and child care worker' by trade and former 'friend' and I loosely use the term, is the very person who went looking to be hired on by a Sugar Daddy. Yup, paid for sex. With an 11 yr old son in tow. The same who had a many years affair with a married man... the list goes on but I stop here.

And yet MY daughter's an unfit mother. Give me a minute to wrap my head around that one.

I spent a week on Vancouver Island. I come from redneck Alberta. Accustomed to  ready smiles and greetings. SO not used to the metropolitan/urbanite attitude of the inhabitants. Takes some getting used to. However, I can get behind the lack of winters . I'd give one up for lack of the other in a blink of an eye. 


Finger and horn got a healthy workout last week. Next time I'm in a mood, I'll send out a general notice asking that stupidity and ignorance need not cross my path.. or I'm going to do them a favor and remove them from the gene pool. 
Repeat after me:
PMB ( think b!tch not symptom) operating a motor vehicle. Will  not hesitate to use it for own gain and or personal satisfaction. Situation depending. 


Me: Daughter, why don't you use a J-cloth to clean the baseboards? It'll be easier, no? 
Daughter: What's a J-cloth??
Me: You are kidding me, right?


Bloggers, I am old. Sigh.


Speaking of,
Half way through the class at the gym, the song 'Fox on the run' is pumping out. My fellow gym rat, who's around the same age, a tad bit older, comments how she loved this song as a teen. We're trying to figure out how old we were then and up pipes Margaret with a saucy look in her eye, ' I wasn't even born then.' 
Bite me, whippersnapper. 


What about you, my bloggy pals, what are your musings of the day?