HOLY CRAP

The tree people are FINALLY here! Whatever am I going to do without the 'Flaming Weed'??

Letter to DIRECT ENERGY

Utility Area: Power lines in backyard
Comment:
Because I can never get through on the number, I've decided to email. On Tuesday, 10/16, I called the "Emergency Line" at approximately 730am. After going through the ridiculous amount of non-emergency selections, I was finally able to reach a customer service representative. I calmly explained to him that one of the power lines in my backyard was hitting one of my trees and was causing my tree to shower down sparks and flaming debris upon my shed and garage. Thank goodness it was rather wet outside; therefore, no flaming inferno. The CS rep told me, "I have sent out the emergency dispatch--they're on their way." Let's remember that this is 730 in the morning. For the next hour or so, me and my two young daughters stared out the back window watching our tree catch fire/go out/spark, etc. At 10am, when the "emergency dispatch" STILL hadn't shown up, i again called the "emergency" line. I was informed by an automated voice that the wait time was greater than 5 minutes. What a helpful emergency line. I hung up. At 11:04, the guy showed up. He informed me that he didn't know why the company hadn't trimmed my tree, but it was probably because the tree was nothing but a big weed. I'm not kidding. He actually told me this. WOW...a 45+ foot tall weed. With bark, no less. The guy was a real Einstein. He told me that he'd put in the call to have someone come out and trim the tree. Then he turned around and left. It is now FRIDAY, and guess what?? The tree is STILL not trimmed. This is ridiculous. Is there someone I can call that will actually get the job done?

Hoping my house doesn't burn down,
Stephanie Wisdom

Home of the 'Flaming Weed'

Yesterday morning, in preparation for our dentist appointment, the chicks and I were sitting at the table scarfing down some sugar-laden breakfast cereal. Out of my peripheral hearing (like the vision, but with your ears), I heard a snapping, fizzing-type of sound. I looked out the back window, and saw sparks flying from one of our trees. An electrical line runs smack-dab though the branches of one of the many trees in the backyard, and this one was grounding out on a branch. There were sparks flying, and the occasional flame. It was quite lovely. The girls, however, found it disturbing. They're such sissies.

I went and grabbed the latest electric bill, whilst watching the dance of sparks fall upon my shed, and called the "Emergency" number listed on the bill. I don't even know why they have a separate number. After going through 3 minutes of options, such as "For billing inquiries..." (how is THAT an emergency?) and "If you would like to take a survey...", I finally just got pissy and started pushing buttons. One of them finally got me to a representative.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes, yes you can. There's a power line in my back yard, that is hitting one of my trees and sending sparks and flames all over the place."

"Did you call the fire department?"

"No, it's not a flaming inferno--just sparks and small flames that keep going out--because it's really, really wet and rainy."

"Okay, let me get your address and phone number."

[give him info]

"Alright, the emergency team has been dispatched and is on its way."*

*Note: The time is 7:32am.

At 10:30am, the emergency people still haven't arrived. By this time, the branch that is touching the power line is nothing more than a charred toothpick. No more flames; no more sparks--just charring. I decided to call the electric company and bitch them out. I go through the same 3 minutes of crap, then again, get pissed and push random buttons.

"I'm sorry, but all customer service representatives are servicing other customers. The wait time is now exceeding 5 minutes."

Good frickin' thing this is an emergency line!!

At 11am, I get a knock on the door. It's the electric company. He said that he had already gone in the backyard and checked it out. Fantastic. Thanks for giving me the heads-up that your creeepy ass was in my backyard. You know what he said?!

"Well, the problem is that that thar 'tree' in your backyard is really just a big weed that turned into a tree. I don't know why it's so big. All the other trees have been trimmed back, but i guess they missed that one. I'll have someone come out and trim it."

A weed that turned into a tree? Seriously? Alrighty then.

Wednesday, 2:40pm: The "big tree-weed" in my backyard STILL hasn't been trimmed.

Behold--the flaming weed:

Conversations with Clairey

Claire: Mommy, you're so beautiful.
Mommy: Thank you, baby.
Claire: SO beautiful....
Mommy: thank you...
Claire: [mouthing the word silently--Be-a-u-ti-ful]
Mommy: You're a goofball.
Claire: Mommy? See my ankles on my nose?
Mommy: ankles?
Claire: Yes, right here on my nose---my nose is just like yours. With ankles.
Mommy: Freckles?
Claire: Oh yea, freckles. I like to call them 'ankles'.

Cutie pies!

The HOLE OF DOOM

We live in an older house. By old, I mean it was built in '75. In the living room, it has these dark beams that stretch across the ceiling, and in one of the beams, is a hole. Once, it was a knot, but it has fallen out and left a hole. We tell the kids that it's the "Hole of Doom." If a wasp is in the house, it must have come out of the "Hole of Doom." If there's a tree roach in the house (eeewwwww!!!) it must have come out of the "Hole of Doom." If the kids are bad, we will hold them up to the Hole and let it suck them in. We're so evil.

Growing, growing, gone...

I can't believe another year has gone by, and my baby girls are a year older. It seems like that first year went by so slowly, then from then on...WHOOSH!! I know I'm usually a sarcastic bitch, but on a serious note--I am so proud and honored to be thier mommy. [Can I hear a collective "awwwww!"] Now, back to our scheduled programming:

Jenna:
Oh, Jenna, Jenna, Jenna. There are no words to describe you. Well, no words that are probably not offensive to someone's ears. Just kidding. You are a MAJOR shit. THAT, i'm not kidding about. Girl, you have the attitude of a sixteen-year old. If you could spend all day trying to negate me, you would. You are strong-willed, and as stubborn as they come... Child, you are absolutely SENSATIONAL!! I love it. I'm so glad you're not a wuss. Argue with me, baby. Try to get your point across. I'll listen, but that doesn't change the fact that I'm going to win. I'm the mommy. I win. Game over. But really, don't whine. THAT is really annoying, and I can't stand it. You say you're going to be a zooligist/rockstar when you grow up. I think you're going to be a lawyer. You're doing well in school, with the exception of the small incident last week where you smacked someone upside the head. Yes, she DID hit you first, but hitting at school is not allowed; hence, your birthday pony from Build-a-Bear will remain on top of the bookshelf until tomorrow night. Repurcussions suck, yes? It's much better to be the teacher's favorite than to be the trouble-maker. Ask your dad--he was the trouble-maker. You are, however, bored out of your skull, so I'm supplementing with materials I'm pulling off of an education site. You're doing so well. You're such a little smarty-pants.

You've had an interesting year, pooh. Losing teeth, moving to a new house, starting school. You've handled it all so well. I am so very proud of you. You want to be a "big" girl so badly. Take your time, baby--it will be here before you know it. And I don't care how big you are--I'm still going to pull you onto my lap and snuggle you. My precious pumpkin!

Claire:
I'm wondering if I should just type this in 'whine-ese', because seriously child, that is all you do: WHINE. I thought it would go away when you turned 4, but here we are, 3 weeks out, and the whine-fest continues. It's a good thing you're the cutest 4-year old in the world, or you'd be outta here. The pouty lip, those huge green eyes...look! Mommy's in a puddle on the floor. Cutie pie.

You, too, have had a big year. You had a lot of trouble with your sister going off to school. Every morning for the first two weeks, you'd cry as soon as the bus picked her up. "My want my sister!" you'd sputter, which left me wondering, "Why? You just spent the last 20 minutes of this morning fighting with her." You moved on with that change as soon as you realized that once she was on the bus and around the corner, you could go in her room, try on her shoes, play with her toys, and pretend you were the queen of it all. But I digress.

You've grown from a tiny little toddler into a tiny little girl. You don't grow much. You're standing at a whopping 3'2" tall. BARELY. The good news is you finally hit 30lbs, so you can now sit in a booster seat. Wow, was THAT a big day for you. You're such a silly girl--you keep all of us laughing. You are such a tomboy, but you MUST wear dresses, and you love Disney Princesses. You have a pink princess room, per your request, and you love it. You tell me all the time, "Mommy, my love my princess room. It's so pretty." You are full of spunk and character--the world is a better place because you're in it.

Jenna and Claire---you are my heart. I love you so very, very much!

Link to their birthday video: http://www.onetruemedia.com/my_shared?z=77274868399219a7d1174&utm_source=otm&utm_medium=text_url

Look who's SIX!

That would be SIX going on SIXTEEN.