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.


Jog Blog Day 1

I went out to jog today saying piss on the rain and just going for it. My run/walk combo went well. I did a warm up of about 20 minutes of brisk walking followed by 7 repetitions of jogging for 1 minute and walking for 2. I was in the cool down when, as we call it around here, a Turd Floater hit. The rain (which I am personally responsible for bringing, but more on that in a few) was heavy enough to soak through my french-braided hair! I drove home in my sports bra and panties. I of course had to call my Pal B and tell her, and I think she said something to the effect of, "You're gonna get arrested for that shit!".

Now, as far as me being responsible for the rain- and you heard it here first my loyal readers- as soon as I decided to get outside and exercise copious amount of rain started to fall in drought-laden Georgia! I feel that Governor Pardue should give me a cash reward, the key to the city, and I should have a street in Downtown named after me: Milk Maid Avenue!

I learned a fascinating bit of trivia from one of the running websites I have been frequenting since my desire to shape up has taken, well- shape. Did you know that improperly holstered breasts can bounce as far as 8 vertical inches while running?! That goes for us bustier gals as well as members of the A cup club.

Now, some of you may think I'm a pervert and some of you may think I'm a sadist, but I want to see a normal little A cup boobie bounce like that. Whatever you may think, I know that deep down you too want to know just how in the hell something like that is possible!

--The Milk Maid makes milk shakes, but they only come in more than a mouthful size!


Getting My Beefy Backside In Gear, And Other Thoughts

I have decided to start jogging. I have a very basic, simple and EASY plan that I think I can stick to... There are tons of ideas and advice at if anyone else out there feels the need to hit the trail and toss back a mile or two. I would like to be able to run a mile in under 8 minutes. Truth be told, I would like to be able to run a mile without passing out. So, that's my goal now. I'm giving myself 5 weeks!

Seeing as how I have heard NADA from the large clinic place as far as employment I will have lots of time to devote to exercise. I put in an application at the hospital and for a waitress position at the local veteran's hall. It's amazing really- I feel like I went to school so I could either a) stay unemployed or b) have old men oogle my boobies BUT makes lots of money pouring the booze in them.

I blame my need to become healthier on two things: My pal B informed me that she's managed to lose 10 pounds. In a month. Without having to chop off an appendage! Admittedly, I'm jealous. I'm also quite porky. I'm also pretty competitive, so if I can lop off a few blobby fat rolls in the name of good clean fun then why not go for it!?

In other news:

Faith just informed me that the reason we wear underwear is so that our butt hair doesn't get too long. The underwear is there to grind it down. Ya see, the things you learn from ten year olds are just mesmerizing!
Ava has decided that weemweem (ice cream) is the best stuff ever to eat. She says that weemweem needs a poon (spoon). Budder (peanut butter) also needs a poon. You just can have one without the other. Cheers to poon and budder!

Chance To Win!

I heard about a pretty cool promo the other day for Boyle's Furniture- a great little discount furniture place. They are having a promo event by having a $10,000 Dream Room Furniture Giveaway!

If you are like me, then your couch has cereal crumbled all over it, a sprinkle of baby tinkle from a diaper mishap long ago, some current cat and dog hair, something red- possibly spaghetti sauce?- that wont go away no matter how hard you scrub, and other stuff that is best left unmentioned (and get your mind out of the gutter- I know what you are thinking and it's NOT anything like that).

Here is the link to the contest for anyone who is interested- just click the artwork below to go sign up:

And if you happen to win your very own dream room, can you send The Milk Maid a little something... like a new couch.

--The Milk Maid thinks furniture should come with dishwasher safe cushions!


"Like Some Kind Of Cloning Experiment"

"I do not want my pants touching my stomach!" commanded the Big One. "I do not want to wear socks- they hurt my feet and make my toes feel crunchy!" she lamented as she rolled around on the hardwood floor with a foot in the air. She is not a morning person. She doesn't like authority telling her what to do. Although highly open to suggestions, she will not take a direct order. She's moody, she's willful, and she's stubborn. And impatient. She's also tenderhearted, a daydreamer, always willing to stop and help a friend or an animal. Did I mention she's also impatient?

The Little One has a stare that will pierce your soul. She's demanding. She's particular. She makes Imelda Marcos' love for shoes look like a carefree weekend hobby. She can pick the simple style of door lock with a screw driver. She can charm the pants off a priest, she can sell a leg of lamb to a vegetarian, and she has so much energy that at times it's like watching a comet rocket through the living room.

Between the two of my daughters, I can't even begin to tell you who has the most vivid of personalities. Faith is constantly into a video game or a scary RL Stine-ish book. Ava has her daddy wrapped around her pinkie finger. Faith can be like living with a piranha- don't dangle your sarcasm into her lake of wit or you will be gobbled up. The velociraptor's style befits Ava... show her something just one time and she will come back and gnaw your arm off with the knowledge she's gained.

And to think, as smart and funny and beautiful as my girls have been described by others (as well as myself) the same theme keeps coming up over and over...

They are exactly like I am. They look like me, they act like me, they walk and talk like me. I hate pants on my belly button. I can pick locks with screw drivers.
I made the comment to Jef the other night (after Ava had flooded the bathroom floor with a cup she'd hidden away sometime after her last bath... um, premeditation anyone?), that was something to the effect of "I hope the next kid that springs forth from my womb is a HELL of a lot more like you than me!"
--The Milk Maid says wee wee wee all the way home.


Very Foto-Genic Celeb

Does anyone see anything very, um... outstanding in this photo?

Um, you say no. You see nothing other than a loving father carrying his adorable daughter around?

I think I see why Angelina is so in love with this guy... Look closer. Here, I'll help you. How about NOW:

--The Milk Maid says hotdamn, yummy, and ohmegawd! in her best O face.

That'll Teach Me To Hum A Happy Tune

The Scene:

Me puttering about the kitchen, cooking dinner, humming to myself. Faith enters the room, circles around me to see what I am making (it's basil mustard chicken, if you were wondering) and asks...

Faith: Mama, what are you humming?
Me: The theme song to Flipper. You know... They call him Flipper, Flipper, faster than lightning...
Faith: (blank stare) What's a Flipper?
Me: (shocked and waiving arms wildly) Flipper! The dolphin! He helped his little pal Sandy out of trouble. You know, like Timmy and Lassie, but only with a dolphin.
Faith: Who are Timmy and Lassie?
Me: (open mouth, slack jawed expression) Why don't you go watch Pokemon and let me finish dinner?

The thought running through my head:

Frick on a stick, am I really THAT old?!

--The Milk Maid is in fear of becoming the Buttermilk Maid.


One Of Those Friday Mish-Mash Kinda Days

Been a while, hasn't it gang?

I'm having one of those days- you know, where you can't decide whether to pull your hair out and scream or dance, sing a silly song, and burp the alphabet.

I think I would most like to be laying on a sofa bed, somewhere about 1000 miles west of here, deciding what I want for dinner and having some girl-talk time with my peeps B&K. I've felt really secluded the past month and a half, and it's mostly because I dove head first into my clinicals. I wish I had some IRL friends that weren't two-faced hypocrites, but that's another story and another woe for another day.

I am still trying to round up contacts and former employers and dates and times and my bra size from 8 years ago (that would be easier than half the shit they are wanting, truth be told) for the HR lady (whose last name rhymes with marijuana). That's just irony in itself people, because I have not met a bigger buzz kill in say FOREVER. She's very needy and not so bright. Sigh- the things we do for gainful employment.

Faith's new nickname is Captain Obvious. With comments like, "Mom that man is cutting grass with his lawnmower!" and "Do you think it's hot outside because the temperature is so high?" let's just say she's earned the moniker.

--The Milk Maid says stinky feet, the game that's neat!


Hide-Y Ho Neighbors!

Hello all- I've been quite sparse. I've finished clinicals and MISS the FUCK out of my peeps at super huge clinic spot. I felt all bLaH last Friday- too blah for a mish-mash even, so I've kinda ducked low and been holding a lot of stuff in.

Some "hey we have a time line now" kind of stuff has been happening on the Let's Have Another Baby front- we're looking into January or February of 2009 if you were hanging on the edge of your seats... like all ONE of you.

Faith started 5th grade recently- and she loves it tremendously! The teacher is a young skinny preppy peppy pep-squadish type, but I will resist the urge to annihilate her with a bazooka.

I got a new cat Saturday night. Jef was already against the cat, but I went against him with the mantra of "it's easier to ask forgiveness than permission"! The cat's name, who is a loverly long haired black furred male sans nads type, was Jellybean. I said Ix Nay on the AmeNay and changed it to Mungojerrie (wiki this!). Mungo J is an outside kinda guy, so as soon as he graces us with his presence again I will feature him!

--The Milk Maid says tis better to win by admitting your sins that to lose with a halo.


Find Wall, Bang Head, Repeat As Needed.

Today was the first day in almost 5 whole weeks of phlebotomy-ing that I really really wanted to mame behead squash a child into tiny little pieces...

The Scene: The pediatric phlebotomy/lab area

The Victim: A pre-coffee, pre-breakfast, pre-menstrual Milk Maid

The Culprit: Very tall, very muscular 10 year old boy

The Crime (according to Boy): Did not want a "booboo" on his "little tiny finger". He whine*cry*sniffle wanted his "mommy". "Nooooo booooooboooooo nooooooo!"

The Crime (according to Milk Maid): Whiny boy in need of parental supervision, a set of testicles, and some added testosterone.

To The Rescue: MB (my pedi-partner) who ran through the door and said, "My gosh I thought that you were killing a baby!"

--The Milk Maid says her ears still ring with the sound that surely bellows forth from the depths of Hell.

got acne?