My boobs were my tools of the trade for almost 20 months.

Once my youngest daughter weaned herself from the Magical Boob Juice, the fun really began!

(And by fun we all know I mean chaos!)

Pull up a chair, sit a while, read a few pages.

Keep and open mind and a joyful heart and you too can get pumped into the world of The Milk Maid.


Previously Unreleased Mish-Mash

My head is in a fog today... So instead of rambling about nothing I have dug up a previously unpublished post from 4/28/07. Enjoy....

My Dearest Ava,

For nine months (ok, 38 weeks and 6 days) I gave up drinking wine and eating junkfood and my morning cup of coffee so that you would grow big and strong inside me. I drank water like it was a drug, I relaxed as much as possible, and I refrained from heavy lifting (except that one time I flipped the mattress, but it had to be done). I went religously to every prenatal appointment, took my vitamins, and kept my health in fine order. I didn't mind the sleepless nights that you kicked me, ever so relentlessly. I never looked forward to, but never dreaded, getting up to pee 8 times a night when you were doing headstands on my bladder.

When you were born, you came quickly and easily. You were perfect in every single way. Breastfeeding was like second nature to you. Before leaving the hospital, my little one, you had gained an ounce and I had blood blisters on my nipples. But that was ok... you were doing what you needed to, and I knew we'd have time to work
on our technique.

There were sleepless nights when all you did was nurse. Luckily, I learned how to lay down and feed you that way. There were days you just wanted to squeal and scream for no reason. That was fine too... I'd waited so long for you, I didn't care what noise you made as long as you were with me.

You've outgrown your tub, most of your clothes, 3 sizes of diapers, and my ability to carry you over long distances. My stomach is floppy, my boobs are longer than I desire, and my mind is cloudy even on the best of days.

You've learned to sit up, you can eat solid foods like a champ, and you are about a week away from crawling all over the house and terrorizing the cat.

So my only question for you, my dear daughter, is why- oh why- did you pick "dada" for your first word?


Stuff And More Stuff

It's too early for a Mish-Mash, so a Stuff-Stuff will have to suffice.

I have started having nightmares as of late. Weird, freaky dreams. Ok, so my normal dreams are weird and freaky, but they rarely prevent me from going back to sleep. As of late, my night-frights have included me shooting people with a machine gun, me running from wild animals, me stabbing a former friend with a knife... you get the idea. Mayhem ensues and I wake up trying to catch my breath and remember where I am. I totally hate that crap!

In other news, my poor Big J had to be at work by 7am. With the hour and a half drive plus time to get up and shower, etc. he was up before 5am. Then, once he got there, he basically just sat there and listened to another boss yell at the service department. Brilliant!

Here are a few pics from Christmas:

Faith & Ava by the tree
The sky on Christmas Eve... "Looking for Santa"
Happy Sissies
Even my mother was in a jolly mood!
Ava got a ride on train and tons of Dora stuff... Faith is dying to take over Ava's new chair as Paige looks on. Jef and his dad are in the background.
"Let's relax some mom!"
Did I mention I got a nice new lens for my camera?! Cheers gang!!
--The Milk Maid keeps her Moet an Chandon in a pretty cabinet. Then she drinks it!!


Merry Christmas Y'all!

It's that time of year again- I hope that everyone got all their shopping done and are in safe, warm, and ready to celebrate a little Santa Ho-Ho-Holiday!

It wouldn't be Christmas without this picture:

white christmas

Or this link:
Charlie Brown Christmas - Performed by the Cast of Scrubs

May you all have the most cozy, warm, terrific, fantastic, orgasmic (optional, but encouraged!), tap-dancingly tubular, zany, wacky, untacky, superbly sublime, most bueno of all holidays!

Merry Christmas, Feliz Navidad, Joyeux Noël, Fröhliches Weihnachten, Buon Natale, Vrolijke Kerstmis, С Рождеством Христовым, and Lystig Jul!

--The Milk Maid says it's always better to give than receive!

PS- Wouldn't be Christmas without one of these: Seagull lighting


Calling Him Out

Dear God,


Now that I have that off my chest, let's go into detail as to how greatly and exactly why you suck:

On the two year anniversary of my miscarriage you allowed Doc Fucktard (thanks for the name Kathy) to totally screw over my two friends on what should have been their IVF day. You gave them instead the world's most expensive IUI.

People wander around saying how great you are, how wonderful you are, how many miracles you create. I haven't seen much good in your work as of late, God. Have you been too busy overseas? Are you in the Bahamas for the winter? Perhaps you have given up on us. Whatever your problem is, I wish you'd get your act together.

You see, I pretty much have my own faith and gods to deal with things. It works for me and makes me very happy in my life. I used to be a devout follower of yours, but after being told that I wasn't good enough to come to your church because I got pregnant before I married my first husband, well that was the proverbial nail in my coffin. I don't like being judged for my sins by people who have done the same thing. I would like to believe the real God wouldn't judge me for mistakes. You need to revamp your whole public relations gig.

I'd like to make note that my pal B really believes in you. She is a fantastic person, and her faith in you almost makes me believe that I should give you another chance. But then a day like today comes along and you totally screw her and K over. Ever stop to think how that makes THEM feel? No, you are too busy throwing asteroids towards Mars to hear a simple, honest prayer from someone who would give a baby a marvelous home. A home filled with love, with kindness, with warmth and compassion. A home that needs a baby in it- so that two people who are in love so deeply can feel completed.

You are much too busy letting crack whores have their 7th child who will be neglected and born addicted to something that shakes their entire frail body. You are much too busy seeing that people who beat and rape and stab and shoot other people get good attorneys that will help set them free.

Some may call this letter to you blasphemy. How can I be blasphemous when I am only speaking the truth? The truth hurts, doesn't it God?

Here's you chance to redeem yourself Big G. Right here, right now- you have the opportunity and the power to right the wrongs. Be strong, step up to the plate, and let K be pregnant two weeks from now. Or at the very, very least please let those two little eggs be strong, let them fertilize, and allow them the chance to grow snug in her womb.

I have found myself saying many times that there is always a reason behind everything that happens. I would really like to know the reasons for all of the crap you decided to sling today so that some way, some how I can try to explain it to my friends. I know their hearts are breaking right this very second, and there's not a damn thing I can say or do to fix it for them.

There is only ONE thing that will make this right in their lives, God. I can only hope you will come through for them.



Holly-Daze Friday Mish-Mash

Good grief- I have spent most of the day just trying to remember WHAT day this is today. Yup- Friday alright.

Faith is out of school, the dog had yet another vet appointment for retaping his ears, I had to add the extra leg of driving to Jef's work to get a bumper he promised another guy he would paint, THEN I got back home to the fence being almost done!

We have been waiting on the damn fence- that's its official name now- for well over a month. It was measured for materials even before we got the dog! Today, the Lone Fence Installer came and put up the chain link and the vinyl gate. He managed to stall through one of the worst droughts ever and wind up coming when it is cold and dumping down rain! THEN... always a then huh?... Once he was gone and everything looked good-- or as good as anything can look when you are cold and wet and have a 9 year old babbling to you and a baby screaming at you because did I mention it's COLD?!-- I went back in the house and got Zeus and popped him into his new fenced play area to work off some of the energy he accumulated during the 4 hours we were in a car today.

It took Zeus 4 minutes to get out of the fence.

It seems the fence people have qualms about boring holes into the foundation of the house and all that, so they had to move 6 inches away from the footings to start the fence. Which is not that big of a hole really, considering it is overlapped some by the vinyl post. But, it is just the right size for a 42 lb pup to turn his whole body into Gumby and wriggle thru. Frick on a stick.
On another completely unrelated to fences note, I would like to know who sent Aunt Flo to my house? When my husband gets THREE WHOLE DAYS off work? And mostly when I wasn't due for AF for another WEEK! WTF? Who's period is this?? Come get it, I don't want it!! Bleh!
Snippets from a conversation with Faith (on the way home from the vet):

Faith: Mom, these seed things keep falling off my sandwich.
Me: It's ok, we can vacuum them up later.
Faith: Mom, are seeds made of testicles?
Me: What did you say? (Between hysterical laughter and fainting)
Faith: You know- Testicles! That plant with little seeds. Are these testicle seeds?
Me: (Trying desperately to keep a strait face) Do you mean sesame seeds?
Faith: Oh yeah- that's what it is called!

Haiku Time!
Click the pic to play along!
Almost done shopping
Can't stand the crowds or the mall
Makes me really itch
I prefer e-shops
Don't have to leave computer
Link to the real world
Three whole days with Jef
Can't wait to have him that long
Merry Christmas Y'all!
--The Milk Maid does not acclimate well to cold climates- please keep at a constant 74 degrees for optimal performance.


7 Random Things Kathy Should Know About Me!

Because she couldn't resist learning even more about the Milk Maid, ole Kathy at Baby Bound tagged me for a 7 Fact Meme.

Because I have run out of every.random.fact.ever about me, I will change things up a dab. With a real random fact or two about me, I will include a slightly exaggerated, mostly made up tidbit. Maybe you can guess what is real and what is not so factual (I'm adding fractions to help you!):

1) I met The Cowboy in a barn. He fell off a log the first time he saw me. I shoved his head into a pile of manure. (2/3 true)
2) I love music- I love music so much that when I was a child I wore out 3 F*scher Price record players listening to Elvira by the Oak Ridge Boys. I have a child named Elvira. (2/3 true)
3) Ava's name was almost Avalon. A band of rogue Martians made me change my mind about that at the last minute. (1/2 true)
4) If Faith had been a boy her name would have been Joseph Dean and I would have called her JD. (100% fact)
5) My mom has a bald spot that is surrounded by grey hair. She calls it her "halo". I call it that too. (2/3 true)
6) I love tall, slightly balding, slightly hairy men who are just as goofy as I am. (100% true)
7) I got kissed at the Christmas party by a drunk man. (1/2 true)


Thinking Out Loud

I'm running 2 a day through here! I love it when my mind is running on a positive track and I am creating things to write about faster than I am actually able to write them.

Lets start here:
Congrats to my pal Sassy T, aka Tracey at Baby Steps. It's been a long and winding road for her, but she finally got a NICE BIG FAT + and a great big beta # for her long awaited pregnancy! Cheers (sparkling wine of course!) to you dearie!

That leads us here:
Fifteen months ago today Ava was born. With my new header, I have taken the ticker down that tracks her bf-ing and age, but I will modify that soon so days like today wont sneak up on me. The baby, now toddler, e-mail updates I get says that 15 months is a huge milestone. That toddlers will begin testing their limits! Begin? Hahaha. Yeah, begin. Something like that! Ava is Miss Independent from way back, yo! Yeees, we are still bf-ing. Although with her 7 teeth it is a wee bit like nursing a cactus.

To Here:
Today would have been my grandmother's 93rd birthday. I called my g-ma by the name of "Grandmother". She was a marvelous lady! She's been gone over 9 years now, but I think of her almost daily. Grandmother was my mom's mom- and if my mom was a nice lady that made popcorn balls and milked cows, well then she'd be my grandmother. Grandmother babysat 5 kids on a full time basis- me, my 2 older boy cousins, and my 2 younger girl cousins. We were all 3 years apart in age (i.e. when Ashley was 1, Amanda was 4, I was 7, Brandon was 10, and Scott was 13). She had her hands full, but a spatula to the hiney was sufficient to keep us in line. I miss you Grandmother!

Now this:
My Grandmother always enjoyed hearing the stories I would tell. I was a verbal and journal blogger long before the electronic fad hit town. I have always been encouraged to write and use my imagination. I was thinking earlier today, with all of the peeps out there who are "famous"- at least in the bloggie sense- why am I not in those ranks? I could be. I have often thought about using my powers for good (teeheehee) and starting my own website, conjuring up sponsors and paid advertisers, etc. Truthfully, I don't know what is stopping me. Oh wait, yeah I do. It's the whole power to believe in myself. However, I think making that leap will take me higher than I can imagine.

I believe in me (a little bit!):
School starts January 7th. I will be taking Medical Terminology as my first course. I am excited- I hope I am still excited when it comes time to actually GO to class.

Treading back from the deep end of the thought pool:
There is a bottle of "Trim Adhesive" in my garage. Did anyone else go to a dirty place with that one or is it just me?

Shallow end of the gene pool:
My step-daughter is back from Argentina. Sure, that isn't a nice title and I should strive at being nice to her, no matter how immature she is. Try... try... try some more.

Speaking of genes:
Did you know you are more likely (by 35%) to become an alcoholic if you love sweets? Something about the alcohol sugars and all that jazz. Takes all the fun out of eggnog doesn't it?

Speaking of eggnog:
I have a can of it in the back of my car!

Random tidbits:
There are cheese, potato chip, salsa, hot sauce, wine, cigar, and popcorn clubs of the month!

--The Milk Maid says if wishes were horses we all would ride!

xbox 360

I Could Have Sworn I Didn't Dream

I woke up exhausted- even after a full night's sleep. Jef asked me if I'd dreamed and I told him no, I don't remember anything.

Somewhere between dropping Faith off at school and getting breakfast I started remembering bits and pieces of a very weird dream... By the time I got back home this is what I remembered:

I was in a hotel- a very large, fancy hotel. Perhaps something you'd see in Downtown Atlanta with a massive atrium, vaulted ceilings, the whole deal. I was being paid by an unnamed government agency to keep an unannounced person safe from her father who was "back to kidnap her". I walked the whole hotel making notes of safety violations and prepping my crew for the showdown that we all knew was inevitable.

After the briefing, I meet the person- who was supposed to be a child- that I am to protect. I immediately recognize their face... It's Michell! I ask her what she is doing in my hotel. She replies, "I am the person paying you to keep me safe!"

Utterly confused I flip through my notes. It says kidnap- I thought I was protecting a small child. Michell says, "You don't have to be a kid to get kidnapped". Realizing my mistake I take my over sized pencil and push my black rimmed glasses back into place (I realize at this point I am dressed like one of the Blues Brothers).


Suddenly, a huge explosion echoes through the building. People are screaming and Michell starts to run. I grab her, throw her to the ground, and tell her to lay low.

People in purple leather jumpsuits start repelling down the outside of the atrium. They get to the upper floor and start breaking windows and pour inside. I pull Michell by the hand and off we run. I see a stairwell and we make a break for it. Running fast we almost trip, but regain our balance. I see a small alcove under the turn in the stairs- I tell Michell to hide. She crawls under, and I grab my laptop computer from my pants pocket (it's a dream, I can totally do that! Promise I wasn't wearing parachute pants, ok?!). I see the security has been breached in every single corridor of the hotel expect one, and luckily it is the one we are closest to! I hit the "big red button" on the computer and I hear incendiary devices starting to explode all around us. We start running down a long tunnel that was adjacent to the alcove. The longer we run the louder the echo of our footsteps get. We keep having to stop because the sound is deafening! Finally, after what seems like hours we reach the outside.

My phone rings and it is one of my agents telling me that all the bad guys inside the building were either captured or had perished.

Cautiously, Michell and I open the door and the sun blinds us. When our eyes adjust we see a playground! Michell runs for the swings, and I head to the ice cream vendor and buy us two scoops each.

The End.

--The Milk Maid says "Woah! Outta left field, huh?"


A Recomendation

I know many of you are last minute shoppers out there, so to help you out I'd like to give you a top notch recommendation for a great place to browse around for your holiday shopping and beyond! This is not a paid advert, this is an actual place I have shopped and had a tremendous experience with:

Drugstore offers discount mail order prescriptions PLUS tons of neat gifts and everyday use items. I ordered 2 of these digital photo key chains for my parents (because what doting grandparent doesn't need something like this?!).

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My order was placed waaay back on the 3rd of December and shipped the same day. The only trouble I had in this order was when the USPS received the package and lost it. Typical, I know! I contacted customer service at and received an e-mail reply within 24 hours. Here is a portion of the response I got:

"I sincerely apologize for the delay in delivery of your order. It disappoints us when a customer is inconvenienced, and we are committed to resolving this issue.To resolve this matter, I have created a replacement order, at no charge, for your missing shipment. You will receive an e-mail confirmation as soon as the order is processed and shipped. Should you receive your original order, please write "Return to Sender" on the package and refuse delivery, or visit the following link to print a prepaid Return Merchandise label...

...Additionally, for your added convenience, I have requested that the replacement package be shipped via 2-Day Select to ensure that you receive your item as quickly as possible!"

Wow! I am totally impressed all over-- pricing, variety, customer service!

I can't wait to see how the key chains go over with my parents... and I will let everyone know!

--The Milk Maid says thank goodness they didn't LOSE my parent's stuff... not permanently at least!

Catching Up

The party was wild gang... wild. Oh the things I saw!

I pushed a drunk to the floor who was trying to grope Jef's office mate (and after he talked to the office mate yesterday she didn't remember a bit of it). Another guy got into a brawl in the lobby and is now banned from all future parties. The drunk guy that I pushed to the floor later stood in a chair and yelled at the owner in a language only drunks can understand. Drunk guy became "tuna salad man" come Monday morning after he coated his room in barf. Oh yeah, and there was that girl who gave that guy a b.j. at the table. Then hiked her dress and sat in his lap. Yep- a regular free for all!

Yesterday I signed up and got my class schedule for Phlebotomy class! Faith was kind of distressed about me going back to school. She was moping around saying she was really going to miss me when I was gone to school. I told her, "Faith- you wont miss me because YOU will be at school too! I've only got one class for 50 minutes a day for the first quarter anyway!". She said that 4th grade should be more like college.

A week or so ago I got a sample product to test and give my bloggie opinion of! I love getting stuff in the mail to blog about- and unlike the shirt I "got", I really did receive this new and exciting toy. What is it you ask? The Stun Master 100-S stun gun!!

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I hear you giggling! Who in their right mind would let me loose with a stun gun?! I promise, even though they asked me to test it, I have not used it on anyone. Test fire, yes- stun the crap out of someone, no. Although I almost got to use it on a stray dog the other day.

Ever wonder how a stun gun works? I did and I found the answer on the self defense products website:

"Stun guns use high voltage and low amperage to temporarily disable an attacker for several minutes. The stun gun does not rely on pain for results. The energy stored in the gun is dumped into the attacker’s muscles causing them to do a great deal of work rapidly. This rapid work cycle instantly depletes the attacker’s blood sugar by converting it to lactic acid. In short, he is unable to produce energy for his muscles, and his body is unable to function properly. The stun gun also interrupts the tiny neurological impulses that control and direct voluntary muscle movement. When the attacker’s neuromuscular system is overwhelmed and controlled by the stun gun he loses his balance. Should the attacker be touching you, the current will NOT pass to your body!"

My karate/self-defense class encourages everyone- women and men- to keep some form of personal defense item on your body at all times. Be it as simple as car keys or as forceful as a stun gun, a small amount of preparedness can save your life.

--The Milk Maid says too bad she didn't have that stun gun at the Shindig!


PPP With Commentary

Ava woke me up around 7am this morning with a massive poop in her diaper. I gently reminded her to save that up for Nina. She smiled a knowing smile...what a smart kiddo, lemme tell ya!

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For the first time in probably close to a year, Ava hung out in my bed while I showered. The bed was her normal nap and hangout spot up until she learned how to roll over. However, with her new interest in children's programming, I actually got to shower without her being sound asleep. I spent much of the shower hanging out the door calling her name and peeking at her... then worked up a sweat post-shower mopping the water off the tile... but she stayed put!

I made my appointment at the hair dresser's with time to spare. I decided to go with a "down" do, just because this girl can blow dry my hair strait like no body's business. Plus down hides my cheeks better. And Jef said he likes my hair down, too.

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After the salon trip I made the grand trek across the parking lot to a nail salon for a little waxing. My brows were bushy, and while I was there I told her to wax my lip too. Youch- I think a nice hoohoo waxing would have hurt less. That woman was brutal!

After all this I came back home, loaded up Zeus and tons of toys and food and off he went to the kennel for the night. He felt it was only appropriate to chew a coffee cup lid before his big spend the night party... He's up to 39lbs by the way.

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Well- the time has come finally to toss on clothes and run. I promise to have a drink to toast each and every one of you at LEAST once.

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Don't look, I didn't clean house today!

--The Milk Maid says Parr-tay!


I'll Have The Mish-Mash Please

T-Minus one day and counting to Shindig Party Time! My nails are done, my hair appointment is tomorrow, the dog has a reservation at the kennel, and Ava has a reservation at the Casa de Nina and Pops (Faith called mom "Neenah" instead of Nanna when she was a baby- Ava actually calls her Nahhnahh. I just call her... well, you can guess what I call her after paragraph 2).

I emailed my Game Show story around to my family (thanks copy and paste) with a slight edit for content (I have a family of prudes, ironic I know). After sending a copy to my mother, I call her later that night and ask what she thought of it. Her comment was something like, "You didn't write that- where did you copy it from?". And people wonder WHY I only share my innermost thoughts and personal writings with Internet Muppets.

Speaking of Muppets, can I be Gonzo? He's my fave color AND he has a huge schnoz... I love that guy! Does anyone remember the old men who sat in the balcony and heckled everyone? Yeah, I can see me and B as those guys.

How about a Shindig Haiku collection:

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Big Shindig coming
Squeezing into a girdle
Don't fart on the boss
Put makeup on chest
BF-ing makes veins pop up
Looks like road map still
Jef wears ties daily
Not wise to put one's neck in
A noose all the time
Open bar rings a
Loud death knoll for some people
Avoid the shooters
The shoes are pretty
The lengths we go for fashion
Squeezing my big toe
Ava staying with
Crazy parental units
Hope she shits diaper full
Tune in tomorrow for the pre-party pic (PPP!)...
--The Milk Maid says gimme a "red headed slut", please! (It's a shooter)


Can't Resist

I want one...

Melinda Zook

So do you, you know it... Click the photo to link and enter. And read her blog too, she's pretty funny!


The Latest Game Show

:::Peppy Music Plays (reminiscent of Price Is Right theme song):::

Announcer (totally overacting, probably a drama school dropout): Welcome to "Price of the Family Wheel in Jeopardy Feud". Today's contestant is a 28 year old stay at home mother of two we call Mama. Come on down Mama to meet Droo Hairy, America's favorite game show host!

Mama (looking very happy in clean and pressed clothes, tastefully done makeup, and freshly shampooed hair): Thanks for having me on the show Droo!

Droo: Welcome Mama! Let's get right into our first game... The Dinner Dash! The object of this game is to go to your sparsely stocked fridge and cupboard and fix dinner in less than 30 minutes for a family of four using only 5 ingredients! Ready, set, GO fix that dinner!!

Mama (running): Let's see Droo- we have stale bread, Cheerios, ummm I think this is ground beef, a soggy bell pepper and cocktail sauce. (Mom starts chopping, mashing and mixing ingredients, the crowd cheers, sound of an oven door slamming shut). TIME!

Droo: My gosh Mama, did you make mini-meat loafs? Incredible!!


Mama (blushing): Oh, that wasn't too hard to throw together Droo.

Droo: Ok, let's move right into the next game Mama... The Missing Binki Marathon! Mama, you will have to find baby Junior's missing passy before time is up... Out there, in that swamp of clabbored milk, pee-soaked diapers, and baby vomit is The Golden Passy. The Binki must be sanitized before returning it to baby Junior. Ready, set, GO get that Binki!

Mama (holding nose): My goodness Droo this milk is totally clabbored! Do you think this is what made baby Junior so nauseated to begin with? Holy cow! (Mama tosses on rubber boots and yellow kitchen gloves from her handbag and plods forth into the ooze, she bends at the waist and is elbow deep in the mix). Aaa-haaa... I found it!!! This thing is filthy Droo, I can't give this to Junior!

:::Junior cries with a sound reminiscent of cat being gutted with fishing knife:::

Droo: Aww, Mama- you made baby Junior CRY!

Mama (thinking fast): There is only one way to know this Binki will be clean! (Mama holds breath, shakes excess goo off passy, wipes passy on shirt tail, then licks passy clean). There! (Pops Binki in baby Junior's mouth).

Droo (gagging, completely green): Oh good job Mama! You win!!

Mama: Hell yeah I won Droo! Time for the celebration dance (Mama mimics Dora The Explorer's "We did it!" dance).

Announcer: And now for a word from our sponsors!...


Droo: We're back! Now for your final challenge Mama...

:::Music blares from the speakers in the studio- Lights swirl and a spot shines directly onto Mama- Crowd roars with excitement:::

Droo: Your challenge Mama is to go to The Price of The Family Wheel in Jeopardy Feud Mall. In under 15 minutes you need to complete the obstacle course we've laid out for you. It includes 2 department store sales in which you must buy clothing for your husband and children while only guessing at their size, avoid 4 rude clerks, 3 perfume spritzers, and 2 candy stores with goodies in easy reach. Your stroller has a squeaky wheel that veers off to the left at random intervals, you're drinking a rocket-hot cup of $7 coffee, you have in tow a cranky toddler who hasn't napped, a whiny pre-teen that refuses to walk, AND a skinny model to follow you and constantly remind you that your shoes don't match your outfit!

Mama: That all you got Droo? Bring it!

Droo: Ready, set, GO shopping!

Mama (careening through store, dragging lazy pre-teen into stroller with toddler, toddler punches pre-teen in the nose, pre-teen whines, Mama trudges on): Both of you stop it right now or I'm calling your daddy!

Droo: Woah! Mama is in total control here, but I worry that using the "I'll call your daddy!" line this early might cost some her some time later on though. Oh my gosh! (crowd gasps) Did you see that?! Mama pushed the first perfume spritzer into the other two and they fell into a discount shoe bin!

Mama (sneezes once, regains composure, throws a wicked knife-hand into model's throat): Get over yourself model bitch... And eat some solid food you whore!

Droo: Oohhh, a little foul language will add :35 seconds to Mama's time, but with the pace she is making through the store I doubt it will matter!

Mama: Oh no! The Candy Isles!!! (Mama spills molten coffee onto her blouse and it splashes down her pants) Shiiii-takkie mushrooms!

Droo: A small penalty for spilling the latte, but Mama earns bonus points for her creative use of the word Shitake!

Mama: Almost there, almost there! (Mama now sports hair that's disheveled, dirty clothes and raccoon eyes from smeared eye makeup).

Droo: Mama, you've made it through all the stores and managed to guess correctly at everyone's size, you avoided the rude clerks, toppled the spritzers, tamed the children AND taken care of the model! Now all you have to do is stay on course through 2 more winding isles and open the door at the end!

Mama (gasping): Get outta my waaaaay!

Droo: Mama continues careening through the store at break-neck pace. Ooohhh- The stroller went up on 2 wheels around that last sharp turn, but luckily the toddler was fastened in and the pre-teen hangs on!

::: Deafening sound of crowd cheering as Mama approaches a door marked "Prize" :::

Mama (lets stroller coast to a halt as she chugs the last of the coffee, totally spent she reaches for the door knob to claim her prize)

:: Sound of door knob clicking :::

Husband: What's for dinner? Have you done anything besides shop today? Why are the kids so cranky? Why do you look so tired?

Mama: (Punches husband in gut, kicks Droo in nads) Frick on a stick!

Droo (in fetal position on the floor): Tune in next week when it's Dad's turn to use the carpet steamer.


Makin' A List...

(Sung to the tune of Santa Claus Is Coming To Town)
I'm making a list
I'm sending it twice.
Really doesn't matter
If I was naughty or nice
Big J just better get me something.
Sending a pic
Sending a link
This year's Christmas
Better not stink
Big J just better get me something
He asked me when I was sleeping
He asked when I was awake
He asked when I was taking a leak
Just get me something for goodness sake
O! I better watch out
He reads my blog
He will whack me with a fat Yule Log
Big J please get me something very soon!
--The Milk Maid says Eggnog-Induced Coma


So Far...

I bought a new dress for the shindig today. The Dress would fit, but it was tight to sit in... and I kinda saw this other dress and it was on sale and... well, I wanted it. So I got it! And I got new shoes. And a clutch purse. All for a very, very low sale price!!! So low a price, I am afraid to say what I actually paid for the dress in fear the people at the store will read this, figure out they foofed up, and come repo my purchase!

Photos of the ensemble:

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Now to wrap up decisions on hair and makeup... Tune in tomorrow!

Something New

Something is different here you say? Well, I guess it is! A new header for a new day... Hopefully a new attitude and new start on life. Ok, so that's probably going a little overboard so we will start with baby steps.


Saturday is Jef's Shindig for work. My mother has been asking me for 2 weeks now, "Does Ava sleep at night?" and tons of other tedious questions that I usually answer with another question (unless they are SO ridiculous and I prefer sarcasm in statement form).

  • Does she sleep at night? --I'm not an axe murderer am I?
  • How much does she eat? --Have you ever met this child before, like- ever?!
  • Will she need breast milk before bed? --Yes, I will leave my tatas behind for you to use.
  • Where should Ava sleep? --I usually put her in a cabinet or maybe the fridge. Oh- she loves outside too!
  • How much whole milk does she drink? --Fill it up until she stops asking for more.
  • How will I know Ava is hungry? --Typically, she will chant BITEBITEBITE relentlessly! (Again, have you EVER met my child?!)
  • Do you want to wear one of my velour tracksuits to your function? -- :::Sound of me hitting the floor with a thud:::
I'm just glad dad will be there to help mom with my kiddo.


Shindig List:
  1. Hair- Up? Down? Professionaly styled?
  2. Mani and Pedi... find time!
  3. The Dress or something else... Can't decide!
  4. Make up... Pay someone or bite the bullet and do it myself.

--The Milk Maids gonna get all frufru and head out on the town!


It's Mystery Mish Mash Friday

Mystery of the day #1: Why do toddlers feel compelled to remove their shoes at the mall while riding in the car buggy then FLING said shoes into the fountain?

I'm feeling a peck peppier today than I was last night at 11-ish when I wrote the crazy post. I'm trying to put the crazy behind me and enjoy my day. Karate is tonite, and there is nothing like being too exhausted to have any loathe left for one's self. Truth be told, I could fall out of the chair at this very instant and sleep.

I'm contemplating taking a shower and shampooing before karate. I know, you are thinking what a waste. I realize I will get sweaty and ookie again. I just have a small patch of little dry skin flakies on my right temple and I cannot be seen in public like this. Ok, again- I was just in public at the mall shopping, but my hair was down and no one saw it (not even me) until I got back into the car and pulled my hair up into a pony tail before I incinerated.

Mystery #2: Why do those mall people set the temperature of the thermostat to the same setting that I use for my Thanksgiving turkey? Can you say "NASA hot!"??

I was taking Faith to school this morning when out of the corner of my eye I saw a large black shape moving against a retaining wall at the local church about 200 feet away. It wasn't a dog, a cat, a bear, a Sasquatch.... definitely not an animal. Just a shadow. A creepy, slow moving shadow. Between the church and the cemetery. Just when I thought I was hallucinating Faith asked me, "Mommy- what is that shadow over there?". I just shook my head that I didn't know. Make that mystery #3.

--The Milk Maid says bowchicabowbow


Dr. 9021-OH Whatever!

Warning: Strong language ahead. If you don't like it, lump it-- and read something else. This is a long damn ramble... don't get lost...

I don't know WHY the hell I watch Dr. 9021-OH I'M SO VAIN!

It just pisses me off, let me assure you. I look at perfect women complaining that their size zero body isn't a double zero, that their size D tits aren't a DD, and that their labia minorus isn't 1cm shorter than it is now. What the hell people?

If any of you remember my rant on The Dress then you will be pleased to know that- officially- I can fit into and zip The Dress completely. It's no matter really as I have gained 6 MOTHER FUCKING pounds since deciding to diet. Yes, six. And yes, somehow though some strange and probably cruel reason I still got into The Dress today. Only after shopping for a new dress and breaking out in hives that 4 benadryl wouldn't cure. That's a whole other rant though.

Picture this: Sicily, 1937.

Nope- wait, wrong story line and plot. Picture this: My bedroom with Big J fast asleep (aka vodka-induced coma) and me, flipping channels. Dr, 9021-Oh whatthefuck is on. One of the great docs is fixing a F to M transvestite. I have the deepest respect for someone who is gender-confused or whatever the proper term for that is (which is escaping me momentarily). I was intrigued until (dundundun) the "type-cast skinny bitch that should be shot instead of plastic-surgeried" shows up.

Instead of ranting and raving like normal, I lose it. I go through 12 different scenarios in my mind. If she was chubby like me would her vuh-jay-jay matter so much? Would one freakin centimeter of extra lippage be such a fucking ordeal? What if she was a size 12 (except for her hideous, terrible, no-good stomach that flopped and flipped in every direction). Oh wait-- a size 12 huh? Let's just shoot her now- fat chicks are bad for ratings!

I am a size 12-14. Minus my huge enormus gigantic floppy terrible no good stomach. But I EARNED that stomach. That's 2 babies worth of flab people. Some people only wish. And that makes my heart hurt even worse. I'd be a size 4,000 if everyone I knew could be instantly blessed with a baby. It just goes so much deeper than size and weight for me though...

No, I'm not a hideous monster of a blob. But I feel like one as of late. Sure, there are people out there who weigh more than I do- which I admit is closer to 200lbs that I want to be. Try 195 on for size. Even at 5'8 I'm one the bad end of the BMI scale. I see ME as a cow. Other people- no. I can see them for who they are. Which for the most part is a beautiful, deserving person. But not me...

I'm tired of no matter what I look like not being enough for whomever. Jef says he loves me, no matter what size I am. I believe it. I just have a hard time loving myself. I remember what I used to be, how it used to feel to dance and wear tight jeans and feel confident. Not that I ever felt any confidence when I was half the size I am now, mind you, except for the occasional spurt when I visited my fantasy world.

My father nick-named me The Moose some time in my high school life. I was tall enough and strong enough to run over any poor, pitiful fool that stood between me and a home run, a goal, a basket, etc. I was a hurricane. That was so long ago.

My mother always made sure to buy me XL size shirts. Even when I was 130 lbs of muscle and could bench press 200lbs and leg press 450 or more. Because I was "big". At a size 8. And she was a what- an 18-20 then?

I wear a goddam large NOW.

Mother never hesitated to remind me that I "wasn't her child". I was adopted. From the beginning I felt like I was different. Dirty. Not accepted. Born of sin. I am the black sheep of the family. I stand nearly a foot taller than anyone in my family (all but one cousin) and was the natural blonde at birth (not so much now, but then!) surrounded by the jet-black coiffures of the fam-damily it was easy to feel as though I was the black sheep. Obviously, I was the different one. I could be picked out from 1,000 meters. Sniper bait.

We would vacation in Daytona every summer. The condo we rented was very strict with its rental property, and the place could only be sublet to a direct relative- daughter or son, with the consent of the realty company. My cousin Teresa would pose as my mom's daughter so her family could rent the place for a week. She is 16 years older than me. I was the only one questioned as a "fraud" by the realty company. "Why is SHE with you?" they'd ask. My mother would scoff, "She's our other daughter".

I had a plan for this post- a direction to begin with, but now it has seemed to grow like kudzu... wild and where it will.

Looking back to earlier in my day, I sat in the kitchen floor and cried. I sobbed for all the things in my life that are unknown. Baby #3, Big J's health, my parents, Faith's grades, my sanity, whatever else may come tomorrow. I also cried for the things that have been, but are now long gone.

I collapsed into a heap of need. As my body bobbed up and down with raw emotion a small whimper broke into my previously impenetrable space. I looked up. Ava stood before me. Her lips were pursed in a pensive pout. Her face seemed to say, "What's wrong mommy?".

I wiped my tears with my sleeves. I held my arms out for her. She walked towards me and jumped into my lap, putting her tiny arms around my neck. I squeezed her ever so close, never wanting to let go. She took her right hand and patted my shoulder gently as she dug her head deeper and deeper into my neck.

A tiny, "Ahhh" whispered from her mouth.

"I love you Ava. Thank you for taking care of mommy when no one else is here to understand."

How can I hate myself when I have her?

B Is For Bull Crap

I went on Tuesday to see my old pal Konetta for a massage. Apparently, I had a massive knot in my back- strategically placed over one of my kidneys*- and Konetta totally flipped out on me. The knot was HUGE, she said. The knot was the shape and size of a sausage! I reminded her she was a vegan and inquired just how the hell she knew what a sausage looked like. Her reply was to POKE and PROD and RUB the SHIT out of my back. I am bruised. I am sore. I'm still whining about it, oh yes I am. That was the least relaxing massage I've ever had.

Konetta told me something that really rubbed me the wrong way (as she was rubbing me the wrong way- literally). We talk about everything as I've known her for nearly 10 years. I mentioned to her my desire for another kid and she said (paraphrasing) "You have enough chaos in your life, plus your husband could die or be really sick for a long time so why would you want to do that?!".

Dumbfounded, I choked back the tears and changed the subject.

Ok sure, all of the above is true- technically. But it doesn't mean I want to HEAR it. It doesn't mean I have to believe it. It doesn't even mean I have to listen to it! I still have a small part of my being that really believes (or thinks I believe or wants to believe or something) that Jef doesn't have kidney disease and the doctors are wrong and stupid and I am perfectly right in my belief that they should be drug out and shot in the streets.

Aren't your friends supposed to pick you up when you are down? Aren't they supposed to help smooth it all over when they can and not make it worse? Unless you are totally in denial then you need that smack in the face. Fuck- am I totally in denial?

To top that off, I went yesterday to buy a car for Jef. He'd seen a car he liked, the price was good, and if all looked great in person then I had a check in hand and was going to bring the car home. But I was told by a dick-weed salesman when I inquired about the final price that "Well hunny I will need to talk to your husband about that".

:::Channeling my inner Latina, one hand on hip- shaking other finger:::

"Oh no he didn't!"

Amazingly, I didn't kill this man. No the best way to get even with this c-sucking mudder fruckin neanderthal relic from 1952 my "purdy little lady" is for me to give out his personal cell phone number to all my friends and anyone else on the wide wide web that needs to fill a void in their life by harassing a jackass for fun! If you want it- email me! Yes, I am delightfully evil.

Needless to say, we didn't buy the car. We actually found another car Jef wants to go see this weekend. Perhaps it was all for the best.

*Finally to my side note: As it turns out, I tend to internalize a lot of stuff, especially when it comes to my Big J. He hurt his shoulder a while back, then mine hurt for a while too. There are tons of instances like this. I assumed when I got kidney stones that it was my way of internalizing his kidney problems. I still believe that, but now I keep adding to my list of kidney related stuff. Like the sausage knot. Konetta also was worried that I have parasites. She said everyone does, but she thinks mine are out of control. Great, sausagie and maggotty and wormy. That's mmm mmm good!

--The Milk Maid says yabba dabba is now yo gabba gabba!

Platform beds, is that like platform shoes?


Like A Bull In A China Shop

That's my dad. We had to move some wood working equipment around so he can tear down a shed and rebuild it as a barn (don't ask). Other than almost taking a foot off and clipping a toe with a 200lb. drill press, running out of gas in the tractor, backing the trailer with the tail gate down, ripping the tail gate off, dropping the tail gate on his other foot, and smashing a finger with the tail gate once it was back on our move was rather uneventful.

Faith has officially been promoted in her karate class. There are three levels: Beginner, Advanced, and Masters. The Master's Course kids get awesome looking black ninja-esque uniforms (Gees?) to wear. Since she is only a few years away from receiving her black belt, her instructor Mr. Wil (who's last name is Smith, no lie!) felt she was ready to move up. She gets to learn weapons in this class. Luckily, we are starting small with a Bo Staff and not heading directly into any blades at this time. Faith has the coordination of a pickle- sharp would not be good!

Faith works very hard at being a good athlete. Unfortunately, she got her father's "athleticism" and The Cowboy once got kicked off a co-ed softball team that never won a game. He's that uncoordinated. Faith is notably more talented than The Cowboy, but she really has to put her mind and a little heart and soul into what she's trying to do. Effort isn't always her strong suit either.

I never met a sport I couldn't play and be competitive. I didn't like everything I played as a kid- namely basketball, but that was the coach's fault- but I was darn good at all of it. It's really hard for me to see Faith struggle with simple maneuvers and punches and kicks because, since the adult class mimics what the kids do, I'm doing the same stuff she is doing. That is a very hard thing for a parent to watch. I can do it, the kids around her can do it, but she's struggling through it all. I really feel like this class is going to boost her desire to keep striving forward.

Now before someone throws their bitch shoes on and comes after me for saying my kid isn't a great athlete read this first:

I have never and will never tell Faith how bad/uncoordinated/gangly/etc. she is at any sport. She thinks she does just fine, and honestly I do too! She's not going to be a star out there, but she works hard and enjoys herself and that is more important that diamonds and gold and fame and trophies to me. Her friends respect her, I respect her even more. After all, isn't this time in her life about fun?

And speaking of fun, wouldn't a little drug rehabilitation brighten any one's day?

Lastly, and this is long over due, I'd like to hand out the first annual Bitch Shoe Award to a few pals:

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*Jennifer the Binky Bitch at Playgroups Are No Place For Children for her recent bad girl behavior at the library (which was totally in check if you ask me!)
*Kathy over at Baby Bound, my new found comrade and future partner in crime (tiny crimes, nothing too bad right *wink*)
*B from Baby Mamas Drama, my eternal friend in Bitch-dom!

If there weren't bitches like us wandering the earth smacking down the goodie-two-shoers everyone else might get splattered with gooey-goodness. Long live snark! And pass it on~

--The Milk Maid says snark comes off off your shoe easily with just a little wine!


I Love Shirts Tuesday

I have one of those "assignment" blogs to write about. This is a feature article all about a mock turtleneck shirt from Clothing4All which sounds like a spectacular company (mostly because they gave me a Cool Free Shirt). I had a little trouble with getting my shirt- only because wires were crossed in which styles I was able to choose from, and the whole shoop-shebang was delayed. So I actually don't have the shirt to blog about. But- the assignment is due today, no exceptions. So here's my spiel:

Whooo hoo, my shirt is warm and blue. It makes me happy to be warm AND have a Cool Free Shirt from Clothing4All! You can get a shirt too for just a small price... now go pick one out because you need to be warm and look like me.

Here is a picture of the great shirt that I would be wearing if circumstances were different and the great wonderful fabulous shirt had gotten here:

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Does this shirt make me look like a man??

I hope the auto-verify machine doesn't detect snark.


Take Three

Let's try this again, shall we?

My day has improved. This is normally where I'd mumble something about "it's improved because it can't get any worse", but we all know that is a lie so I'm skipping it.

I broke a mirror on Saturday. Ava somehow managed to find and hide my hand mirror I use for eyebrow plucking in her toy box in the living room, and somewhere between me picking the toys up for the 7th time and the dog almost pooping in the floor and me letting him out I hear a very distinct "crack" sound.

Seven years bad luck.

The last time I broke a mirror was the beginning of my 6th grade year. The next week I got glasses- big thick purple glasses with coke bottle lenses. A month later I got a perm. The week after that- braces. Then I started my period. In the lunchroom. While wearing white. And my DAD came to pick me up from school. The whole year was like that... Hell my whole life was like that until my senior year. In case you didn't count, that was 7 years later.

So you can see why my mouth flew open with the words, "Oh fuck" streaming out of it when I heard the tell-tale cruch. The last thing I need is (more) bad luck. Let's be very realistic- that stuff is contagious too. YOU could all catch my bad luck from me.

Back to the broken mirror at hand... I immediately called Jef. Apparently I see him as the Guru of All Unjinxing Knowledge. He isn't- he told me to either a) Call Konetta, because Konetta knows the answers to this kind of stuff, or b) Go to the internet.

I called Konetta- no answer. I ran to the internet and lo and behold right there on the Yah*o home page as big as life: What to do when you break a mirror. It's like they knew. THAT freaked me out more than breaking the mirror! I called Jef again. His reply was, "Creepy dude!".

So, for everyone's future reference: When you break a mirror take the shards and bury them outside under the moonlight. Now you know!

As for whether the hex is broken, I suppose only time will tell.

Anyone need a canvas tent?

--The Milk Maid says third time is the charm.

Take Two

I have already written one post for the day... and then promptly scrapped it. No one wants to hear me go to That Place again, so I'm trying to come up with something funny to write about.

After 45 minutes of staring at a blank screen I give up.


Q & A With The Milk Maid

I get lots of questions (occasionally from real people) so today seemed like a great time for a little Q & A with The Milk Maid!

Q.- Why do you write a blog?
A.- The blog started as a way to journal my adventures in breastfeeding for my daughter Ava. What I didn't expect was for my blog to allow me to meet new people and make friends. The blog has evolved from a breastfeeding journal to a glimpse into my life and my many adventures.

Q.- How long have you been blogging? What gave you the idea?
A.- Since October of 2006 I have been blogging. Ava was about a month old at the time. I had made a trip to the local mall KNOWING that I would have to breastfeed in public. It was time to get out and take a chance. I had tons of "lines" to burn the naysayers with. I was ready for the onslaught of busy-bodies to make a rude comment to me. After feeding Ava in a "sitting room" in a department store and being met with only kind words, polite advice, and many oohs and aahhhs I decided then and there that I could quite possibly make a difference in some one's life by letting the world know that bf-ing doesn't have the stigmas attached to it like it used to. There will always be a dumb ass out there to say something uneducated, but for the most part I have found people to be joyful with my choice.

Q.- But I don't want to breastfeed. Or I wanted to breastfeed, but couldn't. Will you be mean to me?
A.- Goodness no! How you choose to feed or have to feed your baby is your business. Everyone is welcome at Milk-Induced Coma. My first daughter was a bottle baby. I just happened to get lucky with Ava (aka Super Sucker!).

Q.- How did you come up with the name "Milk-Induced Coma".
A.- Ava would eat herself silly, and collapse in a baby's breath sigh-- that is a milk-induced coma! The name is a tribute to her and to myself for something we worked hard for together.

Q.- Let's talk about you for a minute... Tell us about yourself and your family!
A.- My name is Aradia. Well, that's one of my names- it's a long complicated story, but half the people I know call me Aradia, the other half call me that other name. I also get called the Milk Maid or MM quite a bit!! I'm 28 years old, I'm married to Jef, aka Big J, and have been for 5 years. I dabble in karate, I am a former softball player (1st base) as well as a former soccer goalie (top ranked goalie in GA my senior year). I'm fairly tall- 5'8- and I'm afraid of nothing. Except spiders. And kidneys.

Jef, Jeffie, Big J, JC, etc is my dearest, sweetest, kindest, most wonderful husband. He is my best friend and without him I am lost. He's going thru some health issues with his kidneys, but we will make it thru. Sometimes I forget that fact, have a mini-meltdown, and need a little love and support. Jef loves planes, trains, and automobiles. He simply melts at the sight of our daughter Ava. He's a wonderful daddy and husband. Does anyone else feel gooey from the sweetness of it all?

Faith is my 9 year old (from my 1st marriage to The Cowboy). Faith is brilliantly funny, quirky, and full of life. She loves Pokemon, dinosaurs, and trying to get out of doing homework. She's an advanced blue belt in karate. Her biggest downfall (of sorts) is that she is exactly like I was at her age. Bless her heart!

Ava is my boobie-baby. She's 14 months old. Those little bits of skin on her ears are skin tags- no she isn't deaf, no they don't hurt. We think they are cute, and when she is old enough to decide to have them removed she can make the decision on them. We had lots of "issues" getting pregnant with Ava, most of which were not my fault. Some of you know the whole story, some of you don't. Either way- she's here! And that is all that is important.

My Mom and Dad: Part-time players in this comedy of errors. Mom's usually a bitch, dad's usually a goob who's broken something that he was fixing that wasn't broken to begin with. Despite their faults and short comings I love them and I *promise* to put them in a nice old folks home. If they behave.

Baby#3: As of yet, baby#3 is just in the "idea" phase. But, baby#3 is spoken of often, so HE (pleasepleasepleaseplease) needed a mention.

Paige: Jef's 21 year old daughter who is currently in Argentina. I rant about her a lot, because she is a doofus. She's not a bad person... she just hasn't grown up yet.

Zeus: Our Doberman puppy who is currently 15 weeks old and weighs 37 lbs.

Q.- We heard a rumor about a special pair of shoes you own... Can you tell us about them?
A.- You must be speaking of The Bitch Shoes. When I get on a rant I toss those shoes on and scuff up the floors of contentment! I love my Bitch Shoes, but I don't wear them any more than I have to!

Q.- Why do you talk about sex so much.
A.- I was always taught to write about what you are good at!

Q.- And what is up with all the weirdo posts about yeast infections and sex dreams. Have you no decency?
A.- I have decency, somewhere. But I think I put it away in a closet with my skinny jeans. I always have made a point to find the humor in any situation, and if blogging about my yeastie beast or sex with presidential candidates or soap stars makes you laugh then so be it! If it makes you cringe, well- maybe you aren't in the right place.

Q.- When WILL you blog about that sex dream with Rudy Giuliani?
A.- Possibly never. It makes me feel all icky just to think about it!

Q.- Why don't you like Republicans?
A.- I like them, I just don't vote for them.

Q.- Are you a Democrat?
A.- No. I'm one of those unnamed, unbiased, vote-for-who-the-best-person-for-the-job is kind of people. As of late, I think Jim Morrison should be President with Freddy Mercury as VP.

Q.- Why do you always end your blogs with a "Milk Maid says..."?
A.- One of my favorite blogs- Mimi Smartypants- has a signature ending, and since imitation is the sincerest form of flattery- well... you get the point.

Q.- Any parting words of advice for your readers?
A. -The Milk Maid says live long and comment!