I don't know. I haven't had a haircut in awhile, try 6 months. Maybe that will cheer me up. Anyways, hope I see youse at the Magic City Art Connection this weekend.

My alarm goes off in the morning and I’m left wondering how in the hell I ever survived feedings and diaper changes every three hours with my child.

I live for the day we get Sparky’s out door kennel built

That's right, the Rascal is now a proud employee of the first Whole Foods in Alabama. I took the store tour today and I finally understood why the store is sometimes referred to as whole paycheck. Good lawd I wanted to buy everything. So far I have sampled organic shampoo, chocolate tortillia chips, some sort of granola vitamin bar, beef that has never been fed hormones, preservative free sushi, "cruelty-free" soap, and organic whole foods blend coffee. I have to say- whole paycheck or not it's worth every penny.

Besides publicly proclaiming our undying committedness, we also adopted a four month old. We call him sparky. I'll be posting pictures soon.

Karen Jacobs' & Byron Myrick's

Newest Works

February 23 - March 24, 2007

There will be a reception honoring the artists on Friday, February 23, from 6 to 9 in the evening.

Standing in front of the check out lanes the other day, I actually said to another blogger "So, what are you here for?" and he answered with a strait face " Dog food." As if inquiring about his grocery store routine was a valid question.

First I must preface with a little history. It seems that every time I get around the Rascal's parents should be an episode in a mini-series entitled "National Lampoon's Meet the Parents." There was the time I didn't apply my makeup correctly in the car on the way to their house. I didn't realize until the ride home that I had enjoyed the entire visit with white clown circles under my eyes. Then there was the time they came over and the entire house was clean except for the underware and bras in the bathroom floor. And just last week the words "DON'T TELL HER THAT!" came out of the Rascal's mouth when his mom called me and I informed her that we stopped off to have a beer. I mean, it's not like I told her we were at a biker bar called the Thunder Inn. Which we were. But that story involves my car breaking down in a shady part of town (my old hood) and it's not as interesting as it may seem.

So-New Year's Eve. We were at the Rascal's parent's home, which is located on the lovely Lay Lake. It's about 10:30- 11 o'clock and Angelbaby was already down for the count. The Rascal and I were on the front porch with his parents, enjoying the evening and waiting for the moment when the remainder of the fireworks can be shot off to ring in 2007.

The following story is not for weak of heart. And I should note that this was an alcohol free night. Not one drop was consumed by any of us.

So I'm sitting there listening to the Rascal and his mom gossip about something or other and I start getting really hot, and nauseous. Then I realize that I can't speak and I am concentrating on deep breathing in an effort to keep my McDonald's combo #2 from resurfacing. At just the point when I realized that I was on the verge of blacking out, I woke up covered in vomit with three very scared faces staring at me. I had lost about 5 minutes.

Apparently I fainted, threw-up, and choked. All before midnight. And that my friends is how you waste a perfectly good New Year's Eve.

Although it did take about 30 minutes for me to fully come around, I refused to go to the hospital. Luckily I had enough presence of mind to avoid the emergency room on a holiday. To add insult to injury, when I called my doctor's office this morning they informed me that not only is he no longer practicing, but as of 3 months ago he moved. TO NEW ZEALAND.

You'll be happy to know that the Rascal's mom set me up an appointment with her doctor and my EKG and CT scans were normal as well as my blood count. Now we are just waiting for a few more blood tests to come back from the lab before she labels this a fluke, and we pray it never happens again.

All in all I would say that was one hell of a season finale and I'm pretty sure I can sell it to HBO or at least the new CW anyway.

And for anyone who thinks I'm not taking this thing serious enough- save that talk for the Rascal. He is still convinced that I died.

Happy New Year everybody!

Luckily the owner of my company is pretty understanding. So a slap on the wrist later, I still have my job. My boss didn't speak to me for a week, but you'll never hear me complain about that.

I hope everyone is having as good a holiday as I am having so far.

The week before last, my Dad called me and he couldn’t say a word. Instantly I knew. “Just say it.” I told him. My grandmother had passed. It seems Death felt jilted when the stroke didn’t take her so he gave her a heart attack. I don’t mean to sound insensitive it’s just that my crazy grandmother’s mental illness (paranoia) made it hard to really know her as a person and be as close to her as a granddaughter should be. So dealing with her death has been much easier than I thought it would be.

My crazy grandmother lived to be 85 years old and most of that life was spent taking care of herself and then, after her short marriage, taking care of her two sons. The death of my crazy grandmother inspired my father to look for information about the family on the Internets. We always knew that her father had died when she was only 16. The children were all sent to different relatives. No one ever asked her how her father died.

I haven’t read the article for myself yet, but according to my father an article about my great-grandfather’s death does exist. In said article, it states that my great-grandmother shot and killed my great-grandfather for some unknown reason and goes on to say that she was indeed acquitted. No wonder my grandmother was crazy.

NorDys is having a $199 and under show starting this Friday.

Happy art hunting.

I haven't spoken to either of my parents since I hung up on my dad. I sent an email to my mom which she in turn ignored. Quaint. I did speak to my brother today. He let me know that my grandmother is out of the hospital and on her way to that long road of recovery. When I mentioned to my brother that Mom wasn't speaking to me he said "Maybe she thinks you should cut dad some slack." His tone implied that he agreed with Mom but he would have said more on the matter if he didn't understand how I feel. I mean it's not like my dad just all of a sudden became an ass when my grandmother got sick. And my brother knows that all too well. The difference between my brother and I is that he thinks he deserves what ever my dad dishes out. I know better.

So there it is. My family thinks I'm an asshole because I refuse to let my dad take his frustration out on me. And that makes me sullen.

Then he snickered as if congradulating himself on his unmatched wit.

I called my dad tonight to ask him about the status of my crazy grandmother's health and was met with a lecture. My father resents the fact that he is the head of the household and never lets an opportunity pass to tell me so in a most passive aggressive way.

So I hung up on him. Maybe I'll check with the county records for those adoption papers.

Today I can officially say my voting habits have changed. Now, there is no need to call me a Republican just yet but for the first time I did not vote a strait Dem. ticket. Sadly, I must admit this is the first election that I at least reconized all the names on the ballot. And while my opinions are my own, my new awarness is a direct result of living with the Rascal. My Republican Rascal.