MOVED!

The posts from this blog have melded with MOUNTAINPULSE . Fluxgraphia will exist no more.





~sniff~

Now, what kind of fuckery is THIS?

Tricky bitches... Look at this bogus response to my letter of love!!!

Dear Ms Oppings,

Thank you for your recent correspondence with positive comments about your local Safeway store.

We have noted your kind words regarding the preparation and the quality of the Safeway Enriched Hot Dog Buns that you purchased last summer. We are confident that we will be able to continue to deliver the high standards you have come to expect as a valued customer. We request that you provide us with the location of the store, so that we can forward your comments to our Store Manager and the associates. We enjoy knowing our efforts to make shopping pleasant and convenient are appreciated by our customers.

If you would like to discuss this further, please reply to this email or call our toll free number at 1-877-723-3929 and reference contact I.D. 13002658. One of our associates will be happy to assist you.

Thank you again for your compliment. We appreciate your business and look forward to seeing you soon. Thank you for shopping at Safeway.


Sincerely,

Alicia Sanders
Customer Service Center

Mr. Sanders,
You are a disingenuous woman and you are to be regarded with suspicion! Sir, you obviously did NOT read my e-mail! Do you just have it scanned by a computer to pick up "positive" words and "negative" words?!?!? How about this: Lame! Revolting! I puked a little in my mouth! For Shame on Safeway Buns! Heinous! Mank-jank-skank-rank-gank! Revolting! Putrid! You're killin us all! Ma'am, those buns..... that's just not right.
Please, try AGAIN, Miss Saunders:

(again, with the original letter.)

Love letter to Safeway Inc.

Dear Friends at Safeway Inc.,

I just wanted to take some time out of my day to send a letter of commendation to you and your masterful bakers for a truly amazing product! Let me tell you about our Father’s Day surprise…
On Sunday, my husband and I and our two daughters were in our garage gathering up camping equipment and making a list of food needed for our fishing trip next weekend. We were rummaging through boxes to find our gear when my oldest daughter pulled forth from the bowels of the garage a bag of Safeway Enriched Hot Dog Buns.
“Someone already bought the buns!” she stated.
“Did you buy those?” I asked my husband.
“I didn’t buy ‘em.” He replied
“We’ll, where did they come from?”
We stood, wondering. The silence was broken when my daughter exclaimed, “These are from last summer!!! I remember when we bought them!”
Dumbfounded, I grabbed the bag and pulled out a bun. What should have been rock hard, fuzzed with green and stinking was still soft and fresh!!! Those buns were as well preserved as Sophia Loren! You should have seen the amazement on everyone’s faces! To think! After one year of sitting at the bottom of a box in our damp garage, those buns were still moist and unsullied! My husband, a former baker and pastry chef, was humbled. His own artisan bread was hard and funky after only a couple days. One just has to wonder about what those magical and mysterious “other wholesome ingredients” must be…

What an unexpected discovery! One less thing to buy at the store, and now, dinner was decided! After cheering and high fives all around we had a big family hug and raced upstairs to find some hotdogs. The bakers you employ are to be praised. May they continue to work their magic in bakeries across America, and beyond! ! “Ingredients for life”, indeed!
Thank you, Safeway Bakers, for making our Father’s Day extra special.

Yours Truly,

Diedre Oppings

Really? Hmmmm.... I'll have to go back and check but I would have thought I'd get an "R". Maybe I'm not so potty mouthed as I thought. Fuck...

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

...Fuck you, you fucking fucker!

There we go!

oooooooo! Bad bastard cats!

Bad, BAD wayward shit cats ! These two



are about to have their heads handed to them. Look at them! They know what they did...
I was cleaning up LO’s room and discovered that someone had decided to turn her basket of play silks into a litter box. Nasty little poos and sprinklin’s of pee all over LO’s beloved silkies. FANTASTIC, guys!

So I throw them into a basin and drown them(No, not the cats, the silks) in anti-cat pee juice and of course the colors start to bleed immediately even though I’ve washed them a million times. I quickly separate them out from each other. But not before they stained the washing machine though!!!
What by the jeezus is IN those silks?!?!?! LO and I finished washing each separate one in the basin outside- OH YEAH!!!! IT’S 52 degrees and SUNNY out TODAY!!!!! SPRING DONE SPRUNG!!!!- and hung them on the line to dry. Some are fine and some are now fuckin’ tie-dyed.

*sigh*

Well it’s my own damn fault. My least favorite chore? CAT CRAPPER. I thought, ”Oh, they’ll be fine until I can get a new box of litter in the morning. It's not so bad in there.” Uh-duh. Poor innocent silkies. Besides sticks and rocks, play silks are the BEST child’s toy. Versatile, portable, totally open ended, comforting... play silks. Which leads to my reparation for my cat box irresponsibility. I shall share the love and pass on a great web site-in case anyone cares- that sells raw white silkies on the SUPER CHEAP! DHARMA TRADING. I think you can get a silk for like $3 bucks. Just like Sarah’s silks. And it’s so fun to dye them with the kiddos.

May I also recommend NATURE’S MIRACLE ORANGE-OXY POWER JUST FOR CAT’S STAIN & STANK REMOVER. ;)
Cuz now our silks are fresh as a day in May....

Our Astoundingly Adventurous Amorous African Clawed Run Away Attack Frog: PART 1

At the end of last summer I started a “life cycle” study of the frog with LO. We purchased a Grow-a-Frog kit from Classic Toys, filled out the postcard and sent for our mail order tadpole. Simple enough! Our lil guy arrived after a week or two and we set him up in his new digs. A sweet pad with tropical decor: blue sand, a white shell, tiny green DECOplant and food. LO named him Goo. We watched him grow day by day, swimming about “breathing in” his special tadpole food, his lil front nubs beginning to resemble future legs-such a cute bitty bugger!

Then he goes tits up.

Swell.

My Little One’s first taste of death. We buried him under a spruce by the house. LO colored his tombstone rock and placed it above his grave. I endured the QUESTION”Mama, why did Goo die?” asked ad nauseum. Then like an optimistic shmuck I order in his “free replacement”. I wring my hands as a week goes by and weather is dipping well below freezing. Last time, the schluffers at the Post Office blew off notifying us that we needed to pick up our live animal from their toasty warm building. The mail carrier is going to deliver the tadpole to his death in an arctic tomb -LO will discover a tadpolsickle in the mailbox. Sure enough I retrieve a cold but as yet undead tadpole and whisk it home to begin the acclimatization process. “What should we name him, LO? " LO searched her immediate surroundings for inspiration and I saw her eyes land on her basket of rocks.

I thought,”Here comes the height of creativity, the oeuvre-”

“Rock Rock!” she said, beaming and much to DEA’s chagrin.

OK!

Rock Rock was cool morphin' tadpole! He was larger and heartier and feistier than Goo. His front legs were already developing and soon after his tail began to shrink as his body absorbed it. In one night his small fishlike head totally morphed into a frog’s with big whiskers on the side! It was SO exciting! We took pictures of the big changes and followed the froglet instructions to a T. He was growing fast and I decided it was time for Rock Rock to be movin’ on up and ordered him the DEEEEE-lux apartment from Grow-a-Frog. The TubeTown condo arrives and what’s THIS stuffed inside the tank?!?! A big…naked...frog(?) with pink eyes peepin at us through a bag of freezing water!

“I didn’t order this!”

LO says,"where’s his color?".

“He’s an Albino!", sez Huz.

"I didn’t order this-why’d they send it?” Do ya smell the foreshadowing yet?

We set up the deluxe crib for the naked-it was almost obscene!- white frog, "Scoot". DEA got to name this one. Rock Rock remained in the original tank. He would need to finish baking and grow some before Scoot would recognize him as Not Food.

More picture taking. More oooing and ahhhing at Rock Rock’s changes.

It was a miraculous little lesson in the intricacies of life.

Some other time: PART 2 of Our AAAACRAA Frog

CHOCOLATE BUNNIES=HOLLOW

Our family celebrates and rejoices in SPRING. EeeeeeeeeeEASTER......Meh.

“Holidays” have become so tired anymore. Especially when you don’t adhere to any particular religious doctrine. Easter-another capitalistic bull-shit holiday. Easter-the epitome of obnoxious. The time of year when i could just PUKE pastels. I’ve decided that for next year I’m gonna get all Martha Stewarty and make my own damn chocolate bunnies.

Shopping for Easter basket paraphernalia and the obligatory chocolate bunny at our local Big-Box Mart proved to be a surreal experience. I passed, unenthused, through aisle upon aisle of chintzy stuffed chicks and lambs, fussy foo-foo dresses, pastel schmunskies, and then on to the Isle of Chocolate Bunny Rabbit Sarcophagi . By the time I was halfway down the aisle I was wholly freaked. Repugnant rabbits! The eyes, oh those Blue and yellow EYES! Who’s the miscreant who decided on sticking candy eyes on the bunnies?!? Manic and Marty Feldmannesque! Those ocular orbits were on the verge of exploding forth from their cranial confection. They goggle all around in different directions like a chameleon’s! Those Psychedelic eyes… staring off at some other realm of existence. Those poor bastards must have eaten the brown acid… Chagrinned, I grabbed two of the least demented bunnies of the lot. "Parsnip Pete" to be exact. A kid’s gotta have a chocolate bunny in their Spring Basket, right?

Upon receipt of her basket, my youngest one picked up and considered her Parsnip Pete for a moment… and promptly plucked off its eyes and ate them. “See! Now they’re friendly." She then asked her sister if she could “ have yoursez eyes?”

Nope. Next year no more carny prizes. Just meaningful things. Homemade bunnies. My husband is a former/eternal pastry chef for Christsakes. Milk chocolate for the 4 year old. White chocolate for the 13 year old. And one for my hubby made with a Mayan flare! Ancho and cayenne! Chipotle!
They will be ROCKIN’.

GONNA HAVE A THREESOME TONIGHT!!!!

Just my hubby and old boyfriends, Ben and Jerry.

Stepped on the scale this morn. With a wet head, too! And (after 3.75 years) I have officially dropped the 40 pounds of baby weight! Not including weight lost in the first week after her birth: baby was a 10# butterball. Then there was the gargantuan placenta and an unnerving amount of fluid(all of it in my toes), 23#.

Slow and steady wins the race, man. The secret of weight loss, godammit once and for all, is eat less(6 small meals a day to rev up metabolism) and move more. Water, drink it. Get the heart rate up for a mere 30 min. everyday. Throw in some weight training 3x a week for added metabolism boost. Period. End of lesson.

Come hither, BOYS!!!!

Technology-a terrible wonderland

Chortle!

WTF?...I just puked a little in my mouth...

Now matter how shitty a day can get, how wretched I may feel, how white-washed I think the reflection in the mirror at 6am is, I can THANK the Jesus and all that is holy, that I’m not THIS broad:

THIS MORNING'S "FLOWERS FOR ALGERNON" MOMENT

Would ya look at this?



This is my brain not on drugs.

Ahh, these crazy dazy morns before the Adderall's on board. That weird semi-retarded limbo of grogginess between waking and eating breakfast. There’s about 2-3 hours there before I pop my 2 meds and the smarts kick back in. Breky has to come first though, or I feel vomity. So I continually play this tug-of-war of trying not to make these wacky mistakes while preparing or serving breakfast. How many times have I poured OJ into my tot’s cheerios?

“Mommyyyyyyy! I don’t liiiiiiiike that in my bowl!”

Maple syrup in my coffee? Given the sippy cup to my 12 year old? And now the Pièce de résistance , pouring the water for my oatmeal into the pan with my scrambled eggs. I gave it to the dog. He looked down at his bowl, head cocked a few seconds, pondering.

“A TREAT! TREAT! I gave ya a treat in your bowl! Eggies!”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Yeah, yeah, alright so it looks like hell. That’s not better than DRY kibble?!?! Just eat it.”

Tonight for dinner: Bitchin’ Burritos!. If I don’t forget to actually put them in the OVEN after pre-heating. 6PM, the flip side, Adderall has left the building .

Muckin about on Craigslist!

2006 KIRBY vacuum- Kicks ass! - $1000
Hardly used KIRBY VACUUM for sale.

“EWWWWW!!!! Hardly used?!? How dirty must their house be?!”, you ask? Well, the Kirby worked wonders on our ole’ nasty pet/kid/drunk stepfather in law-maltreated carpets before we ripped them up and put in swell wood flooring. Now we don’t need Kirby, just a good old fashioned corn broom!


This illustrious “Diamond Edition” Kirby comes with the Shampooing System and lots-o-funky attachments in a glorious mountable holder! This thing will sand your woodwork, blow feral cats off your porch and massage your back at the end of the day- I shite you NOT! Sorry, this is not the model that serves hot wings an’ Schlitz, nurses your newborn or de-glacierifies your roof. But it WILL summon the power of Greystoke and suck every last bit of dust mite poo, pet hair, bit of dirt and dead skin and the ilk, out of your carpets, beds, pillows, rugs, Grandpa’s toupee and whatever. Just about! Breathe easier and enjoy relief from allergens ‘cause it’s got *MiCRoN*MaGiC* HEPA FILTRATION!


BEHOLD!

BIG ASS WOODSTOVE$200

Swell cast-iron woodstove: 31ish"deep X H 37" X W 24".(did I just pull a Spinal Tap up there?! Supposed to be inches. Does this " denote inches, or this ' ?)Assuming we can even get it out of the house without knocking down a wall, this big behemoth would be perfect for a large lodge or your garage/workshop. You could also bury it and live in it, post-apocalypse. 'Tis overkill for our humble abode so please come and git it and help fund the downgrade to a smaller stove. ...Really needing to open up the feng shui flow in our living room. Namaste

P.S. Can't have obese cat

'kay, let's go. What this BLOG is :

This blog will be:
Outside of the box. A hodge-podge. My deluge of personal whatever. All the stuff I’ve wanted to start different blogs about over the last few years but never got around to. All mashed into one:

Life with ADHD. Getting in touch with, and facing the reality of my life and the bane of my existence. The dance with MEDS. The gifts and curses that accomp- ooooo! Look at that!
S h i n y!

Parenting. (Disclaimer: Mommies and daddies beware-I choose to swear! This is my place to let out the “Mommy” words I withhold from the kids.)

Life in Alaska.

Artistic endeavors. Getting back in touch with my photographer within. Starting on a journey with my friends, the acrylic paints. Makin' toys.

Perhaps a splash of politics and social activism? A dash of massage therapy anecdotes? A splidge of catty gossip about the train wrecks in Hollywood?

It'll be a more RAW place then over at my "nice" blog.

Who knows, we’ll see.

Journaling, for me, has often become the thing I’ll “get to tomorrow”. So now ‘tis the proverbial TOMORROW and I make my latest attempt. No! Perhaps I should take The Secret route and put out the statement, “I am now a blogger!” I’ve long known the value of journaling-a vehicle for expression, thought process/organization, a place of release, a written history….. I’ve made a few earnest attempts but journaling always fell by the wayside. It s always became more of a chore because I’m not able to write as fast as the thoughts spill but a switch in the routine of my life was usually to blame. Being ADD I find it so hard to get back in the swing of things after a monkey wrench has been thrown in. I think I’ve tended to revert back to older routines that brought comfort until the stress of the situation subsides, thus eschewing the journal. To this day I still love to look back at the few bits and pieces of my past that I managed to put down on paper. I’ve always really dug comparing and contrasting who I was and who I have evolved into. Now with the power of my henpecking at the keyboard-WAAAAY faster than handwriting in the pretty leather bound book-I commit myself to exposing the bacchanalia in my brain in cyber space. Perhaps a stranger or three, and maybe my spawn after I’m dead, will read this. And if anyone can take away a wee gem of benefit, groovy.