No matter what time of year it might be, I love to have fresh flowers somewhere in my house.

My husband indulges this by bringing home bouquets several times a month.

Sometimes, for a special occasion, he has a florist make and deliver a large bouquet of roses and other flowers, but truthfully? I like the little bouquets of miniature carnations and tiny rosebuds that you can get at WalMart, two bunches for ten dollars, a lot better.

But best of all are the bouquets I make all by myself by walking around the woods on the side and behind the house and gathering wildflowers. I don’t know what they are; I don’t really care. I could be bringing deadly poisons into the house and arranging them in a vase. I don’t care. I don’t care. There are no small children living here any more to worry about, and the cats generally prefer the more expensive flowers when they’re in the mood for a salad. (Don’t panic: when you visit me with your small children, there will be no poisons anywhere to be found!)

In the winter, of course, there are no wildflowers, but once spring even HINTS at coming, there will be spots of color all along the edge of the woods and I’ll be out there with scissors and some wet newspaper to gather some and bring them into the house.

When the children were little, they would bring me dandelions and wild daisies and those little purple periwinkle blossoms with stems so short we had to float them in a bowl. There were always little paper Dixie cups of wildflowers all over the house.

I think dandelions are as beautiful as many other flowers. I don’t consider them a weed at all, and I love to see a lawn with twinkling yellow stars all over it. I consider sitting on the grass and blowing dandelion clocks and making wishes to be an integral part of childhood. Good thing I don’t live in a real neighborhood, huh. Those crotchety old people who pay to have the stars removed wouldn’t appreciate me and my seed-sowing ways.

I love the SMELL of fresh flowers in the house. It’s better than the smell of baking bread. (We have that, too!)

A vase or two of fresh flowers in the house is almost as good as having a Christmas tree. Almost.

They both kind of prove that you love your home and want to dress it up a little, and what better way than to bring a little bit of outdoors, indoors?

Mamacita, Scheiss Weekly

A few years ago, we cleaned out the garage because it was so full of “stuff,” we couldn’t even park a car in there.

For a while, all was well. When the weather got cold, I parked the car in the garage and never had to scrape the windshield; it was great. We lived like. . . other people!

Then, our son moved from his large apartment into a studio apartment.

I can no longer park my car in the garage because it’s full of tables, chairs, lamps. . . . things that don’t fit in a studio apartment, but that are still nice furniture that he wants to keep for when he finishes school and moves back into a real apartment or house. Added to all of Zappa’s stuff is more of his father’s; Hub is a pack rat and tends to accumulate things. He will try to tell you that a lot of it is mine but that just isn’t true.

Besides enough furniture to start a store, we have most of the usual garage-type things in our garage: cans of oil and gasoline, shovels, hoes, picks, garden hoses, file cabinets we haven’t looked into for years, tools, a freezer, did I mention our son’s stored furniture and boxes, and comic books.

One wall is solid comic books.

Some of them – the Marvels – are Hub’s. The DC’s are mine.

I especially loved the Legion of Super-Heroes, and I bet most of you have never heard of that.

As you know, I’m no spring chicken, and by this stage even my dreams should have calmed down and become mature and stuff, but I’m still waiting. If I see that stage coming at me ahead of time, I’ll try to jump on it, but I’m making no promises. I’ve seen some of the people riding on that stage and I want no part of it; they look pretty boring to me.

I loved my DC comic books, and I still love them. I don’t love DC comic books NOW – I haven’t loved or bought any since they fired all the good artists and hired a lot of guys who can’t color inside the lines or write a coherent story line – that would be since the early seventies, I’m guessing – but back when the artists were good and the writers were great, I never missed an issue.

And what do I sometimes dream about at night? On the good nights, that is?

I dream about Saturn Girl and Lightning Lad and Cosmic Boy and Triplicate Girl and Braniac 5 and Mon-el and Phantom Girl and Shrinking Violet and Light Lass and Invisible Kid and Colossal Boy and Star Boy and Sun Boy and Ultra Boy and Dream Girl and Element Lad and Chameleon Boy and – dumbest hero ever – Bouncing Boy. And all the others.

And when I dream about them, I’m one of them. I’d tell you my name and describe my costume, but I fear I’ve already said too much.

I’m just an old lady woman, after all.

To pick one issue out of the long list of “Things That Really Bother Me A Lot,” let’s go with Door #1 and talk about BEHAVIOR.

Why don’t people behave?

It’s not even that hard. You exercise a little self-control and keep your hands off other people’s stuff, which includes their bodies as well as their possessions, unless you ask nicely first and get their permission. And you’re smart enough not to ask permission if you know it’s not really proper.

You say “please” and “thank you,” and mean it. Or not; if you do it right, you can pull it off. But you say it.

Whether you believe they are Divine or not, you heed the Ten Commandments. Even if you don’t Believe, those ten rules are practical and not that difficult to obey. Plus, if you compare/contrast lists of rules for almost every belief system, there’s not really that much difference. You can obey the Commandments no matter what “religion” you profess to be, or not to be. I mean, who could find fault with “Don’t kill people” or “Don’t steal from people” and “Be nice to your parents?” Besides murderers, thieves, and ingrates, that is. And how would you like it if people used YOUR name to swear with?

Parents, require your children to behave themselves. This will only work if the parents behave themselves, too. Self-control. Restraint. Denying yourselves something you know is wrong or bad for you and those who will grow up imitating you in almost every way.

Make sure there are consequences when your children don’t behave properly. Require proper behavior at home, at school, in public, friends’ homes, EVERYWHERE. Make bloody sure you give them a positive role model who also behaves; if you say one thing and do another, what you’ve said becomes a joke and you’re perceived as a liar. More because you ARE a joke and a liar, than for any other reason.

No kid has a “right” to his toys, video games, electronics, etc. If your child doesn’t earn these things with his/her behavior, take them away. If the bad behavior keeps up, sell his/her possessions and give the money to the poor.

Make sure your kids understand that any and all privileges are tied to their behavior. You’ll love them, feed them, clothe them, and shelter them regardless, but if they want Wii, they’ll have to earn it with their behavior and attitude. No back-talking mannerless kid should ever own anything awesome like that.

If your kid misbehaves in school, back up the school’s disciplinary action with an even more severe one of your own. Your kid has disgraced your family with his/her behavior; be sure they understand that. If your kid breaks a law and calls you from the police station, I’m of two minds: if your kid is sixteen or more, let him spend the night in jail. If your kid is under sixteen, scare the living shit out of him with your anger (verbal only) and put him to work to raise any bail money you put out, or to replace or fix anything he might have vandalized or broken. Don’t pay for that stuff yourself; you didn’t do it. Let the little vandal who thought he was so cool pay for it. Loan him the money if you must, but make bloody sure he pays it back. With interest. Knowing ahead of time that this will happen might be a pretty good deterrent. Coming down consistently and hard on all major infractions before anything like this happens can be a pretty good indicator to a smart kid that he’d better not get into any really big trouble, too. Of course, a really smart kid knows better in the first place. Oh, and don’t fall for the tears. Don’t be afraid to show disgust; there are many behaviors for which disgust is the proper reaction.

I cannot stress enough that if you want your kid to believe you mean it about decent behavior, you have to exhibit it yourself. If Mommy or Daddy can’t keep it in or out of their pants, why expect Junior and Missy to think it’s important either? If Mommy or Daddy drinks or smokes or does drugs, how can they justify forbidding such things to the kids? Cussing, swearing, etc? How do you think kids learn to speak? Tiny little kindergarteners often have the nastiest mouths in the school; they’re fresh from home and they talk just like Mommy and Daddy.

If you cheat on your taxes, or laugh about how lucky you are to have gotten too much change at the checkout, don’t be surprised when your kid cheats on tests and tells lies.

Ask your child what he wants for dinner only if he’s paying for it. Otherwise, serve what parents used to serve for dinner every night: “take it or leave it.” Let them get hungry enough and they’ll eat it. If they cry at the table, send them to their rooms.

Snacks are only for kids who ate dinner.

Don’t be afraid to hug your kids and show them affection. One way to show affection is to be consistent with your rules, and to not have too many. A few, all about good behavior, and consistent enforcement and role models, and I’m thinking the nation would improve.

Above all, the parents are in charge. Don’t delegate your authority to your children; they’ll abuse it. YOU decide what tv shows they may watch. YOU limit their video games. YOU tell them when it’s bedtime. YOU make them do their homework. And if they do not obey you, YOU make sure they’re sorry.

And, as important as consistent rules and insistence on good behavior are, it is as important to be lenient on some things as it is to be unrelenting on others. Hair length? Not important. Hair clean? Not negotiable. Pick out your own clothes? Sure. Deliberately choose something not allowed by parent? Money wasted, and he/she will wear the old ones until money is earned to replace them. Didn’t do homework? Get a zero. Didn’t study? Fail test. Got a B instead of A? Not important. Forgot jacket because he’s a child? Forgiveable. Lost third jacket this winter at age fourteen? Start saving up allowance. Got a C in citizenship on report card? CONSEQUENCES. Got a C in math? Help kid study harder, but no biggie.

In the old days, parents and teachers worried about untucked shirts and gum and the occasional bully and windows broken by stray baseballs. Now, parents and teachers worry about guns and violence and drugs and alcohol and pregnancy and predators and gangs.

. . . all of which wouldn’t be much of a problem if everybody chose to behave themselves in the first place.

And why do people misbehave in the first place? Because they get by with it, that’s why. Schools are afraid of parents and parents are afraid their kids won’t love them any more if they don’t rule the roost, and OH my GOODNESS, their SELF ESTEEM, blah blah blah hooey.

Why don’t we as a nation rise up and insist on good behavior, and severe consequences when behavior isn’t good, for people of all ages! And no, I don’t think it makes any difference what kind of background someone comes from. Right is right, and wrong is wrong.

Why, no, I don’t think self-esteem means anything unless every bit of it is earned. Why, do you? Really? Self-esteem for being born? Hahahahahahahahahahaha

Oh, and your kids are laughing, too. You’re not fooling anybody but yourself.

Mamacita, Scheiss Weekly