Well, since this weekend I've been feeling a bit nostalgic. Sometimes I get that stronger than others. This time was really a memory-packed visit for some reason.
Maybe it was because of all the babies. Yeah, it seemed there were babies everywhere this weekend. Watching them and the little kids play with each other reminded me of when we were there. All the cousins running around just being kids, and the aunts and uncles talking and laughing and occasionally stopping to check on what we might be into and more than likely get us out of it! Now I see all my cousins bringing in their kids....good lord, when did all this happen??
It seems like just yesterday...
I remember when we used to pick Dad up at the Steel Mill as he got off of work and head for the hills to spend a weekend. Sometimes it would be late when we got down there, and the night sky would be all lit up with the stars. We'd stand on Route 2 before we went into the house and try to pick out the constellations. (How on earth did we ever keep from getting killed on that road?!) The only one I could ever find was the big dipper, even though mom and dad always tried and tried to point out the little one.
I remember the smell of the air and the bugs hollerin' as we'd get out of the van and lug all our luggage across the little wooden bridge in the yard. (BEFORE it had a railing on it!)
I remember playing "submarine" and "cowboys" on the big gas tank at the side of the house.
I remember walking down the lane that ran beside the garden and thinking I was really heading back into the "holler".
I remember (barely) when the outhouse was still operational! (Thank God those days are behind us!)
I remember when the back porch was where the dining room is now. And I remember jars....it seems like Granny always had jars on the floor back there. We'd always steal one in the summer to catch our lightning bugs in!
I remember when the "crick" always had water in it. And we used to "fish" in it just like we were gonna reel in a whale.
I remember when Jenny, Shelley, Heather and I thought we were the coolest because we were the oldest. And the other girl cousins would hang out doing girly things. And some of the boys were little tyrants, but don't worry David...I won't name any names!
I remember the adults all sitting on the front porch talking....and there was always somebody ready to yell when one of us kids got "too close to the road!"
I remember Grandpa sitting in "his spot" on the couch. Yeah, we all knew where it was. And nobody else sat there.
I remember after every meal he'd always get up first from the table with the same comment..."You kids go ahead now. I just can't eat as much as I used to."
I remember his "oopsie" when he kissed us goodbye as we headed back home.
I remember Uncle Donny always wanting to know if "Helen made any cole slaw today".
I remember looking forward to Granny's eggs, sausage, "speckled sop", gravy and biscuits for breakfast, even though they drug me out of bed at some ungodly hour to eat it. And I remember that for some reason, I always had to mix up the orange juice from one of those frozen containers. I guess it was the only job I could do!
I remember a dog that used to stay in the barn by the outhouse. Did I make that one up?? Where did he come from??
I remember playin' in the 'backer while it hung in the barn before they took it to sell.
Wow....how time has flown by. A lot has changed. The back porch is gone. The bridge has a railing. There's no more 'backer hanging in the barn. I have no idea what happened to that dog. The crick seems to be a lot drier these days.
Grandpa and Dad have both moved on to better things in a better place.
Granny doesn't make that cole slaw anymore.
And somewhere in the midst of all this, all of us cousins grew up. And now we're the adults watching the kids, making sure they play together nice and talking about all the things that our parents were probably talking about when they were our age.
Life truly does move in cycles, doesn't it?
So to Emmy, Maggie, Cameron, Maeve, Cadee, Owen, Jana, Grant, Connor, Chase, CJ - and all the others...enjoy making your memories. You've got an awful special family here to do it in!
Friday, May 29, 2009
Thursday, May 28, 2009
We Are Family...
One of the nice but sometimes kind of crazy things about heading to KY for us is that a portion of both segments of our family live fairly close to each other. We typically try to always see both sides while we're down there. Seeing as how we're usually on a limited time frame though, it seems we never quite get to see everyone we'd like to. This time we knew we would be seeing almost everyone from Dad's family as we were all gathering together on Memorial Day. However, we got an added "bonus" with mom's family this time because of....well, a funeral.
Which sounds kind of out of place at a funeral, I guess...but the fact is, life does go on and you have to take every opportunity you can to enjoy it. So, even though it was not the best of circumstances, I'm sure glad we got the chance to laugh with the clan one more time.
And I'm REALLY glad that Aunt Shirl got her oxygen back on in time!
Funerals are big gathering places for our families. Really, it sounds a little morbid, but they do tend to turn into mini family reunions. It so happened that on this trip, Mom's Uncle Claybert had passed away 
and the memorial service was taking place while we were down there. So Mom, Adam and I got cleaned up and headed over to it with my Mom's sister Betty.
and the memorial service was taking place while we were down there. So Mom, Adam and I got cleaned up and headed over to it with my Mom's sister Betty. Of my mom's 8 aunts and uncles (plus my grandmother), only 4 are left. And they are a hoot! I took the opportunity to shoot a photo of them while we were there. They always line up oldest to youngest (which usually takes a couple minutes to sort out, as Glenn tends to usually try to get in the wrong place in line!)
Then, as we were sitting there waiting for the service to start, Mom's baby sister Cheryl (pronounced in our hillbilly slang as "Shirl") comes
in, escorted by another sister, Emma. We've not seen Aunt Emma in about 7 years, so this was a nice surprise. Of course....the camera comes out again. Now, it was a hot day, and I was kind of worried about Aunt "Shirl" because she's on oxygen. Sure enough, we weren't standing there long when she says we need to hurry because she's having trouble breathing. So as I'm trying to take the shot they're all trying to help her because she's breathing harder, and Betty asks her if she still has oxygen in her tank. Now, what kind of question is that?? Of course she still has oxy...well, will you look at that...the tank is out of oxygen! Quickly we switch to portable power and soon she's doing an oxygen inspired happy dance! (literally. It was quite entertaining!) There's a lot of laughter and chitter chatter.
in, escorted by another sister, Emma. We've not seen Aunt Emma in about 7 years, so this was a nice surprise. Of course....the camera comes out again. Now, it was a hot day, and I was kind of worried about Aunt "Shirl" because she's on oxygen. Sure enough, we weren't standing there long when she says we need to hurry because she's having trouble breathing. So as I'm trying to take the shot they're all trying to help her because she's breathing harder, and Betty asks her if she still has oxygen in her tank. Now, what kind of question is that?? Of course she still has oxy...well, will you look at that...the tank is out of oxygen! Quickly we switch to portable power and soon she's doing an oxygen inspired happy dance! (literally. It was quite entertaining!) There's a lot of laughter and chitter chatter. Which sounds kind of out of place at a funeral, I guess...but the fact is, life does go on and you have to take every opportunity you can to enjoy it. So, even though it was not the best of circumstances, I'm sure glad we got the chance to laugh with the clan one more time.
And I'm REALLY glad that Aunt Shirl got her oxygen back on in time!
Wednesday, May 27, 2009
Wake Up Call
We got to KY this past weekend on Friday and stayed with Granny that night. That's usually where we sack out at while we're there, but if you know Granny's house, you know there ain't much room there. If you don't know Granny's house, you still know there ain't much room there because I just told you there ain't much room there. Come on, pay attention!
ANYWAY...since Uncle Dennis and his clan were coming in and they don't get to see Granny as often as we do, we vacated the premises on Saturday and headed up to Uncle Murph and Aunt Diana's. They just did some remodeling to their house, which looks really nice. We told them we didn't realize we were staying at the Waldorf this weekend! I hate to see what Uncle Murph charges us!
So, they get us each (Mom, Adam and I...Hezzo wasn't there yet) settled into our respective rooms and we hit the sack, planning on getting up in time for church in the morning. I was upstairs where I could snooze (aka: snore) and not wake up the whole house. About 6:20 I wake up and have to go to the bathroom. So I go staggering through the room with that groggy "where exactly am I at??" feeling and finally find the stairway. I head down tediously, all the while praying I don't fall down them and break my neck. Thankfully, all limbs are intact when I reach the bottom. As I now try to orient myself to the room and navigate to the bathroom, I suddenly hear a voice from the darkness say "Why on earth didn't you turn on that light before you came downstairs!" Apparently Aunt Diana is laying on the couch. She just about scared me to death! So I tell her I was lucky to find the stairs, let alone the light and I gotta go to the bathroom. She allows me to do so. (Awfully nice of her, huh?!)
So now I'm staggering back and I tell her it's way too early to be up and I'm going back to bed. So she asks me what time I want to get up and that she'll come wake me. Wow, they do wake up calls at this hotel. So I tell her about 8:15 would be good, and off to dreamland I go.
Well, now I actually figured that when I got back to bed I wouldn't actually go back to sleep because I usually won't let myself when I know I have to get up for something in just a little bit. But apparently I was like dead tired or something, because I remember nothing. Nothing that is until I feel something on my arm. It was like a little rubbing feeling up and down my forearm. And then I hear this voice going..."Woo Hoo........Woo Hoo......" I sleepily open my eyes and see my dear Aunt standing there rubbing her finger on my arm making the aforementioned "Woo Hoo" noise. Gotta say, never had a wake up call quite like this before. Now, I'm a bit jumpy when startled (get that from my dad), so my first instinct was to draw my fist back like I might deck whoever was, Oh...I don't know....standing over my bed rubbing my arm and saying "Woo Hoo". Fortunately, the tiny little voice in my head starts yelling at me..."IT'S YOUR AUNT - DON'T PUNCH HER, DON'T PUNCH HER!!!"
Thank the good Lord my arm listened and stayed right where it was.
That would have been really, really bad.
Really bad.
So, I would just like to say that if you have occasion to stay at the Murphy Hotel some night, you're sure to be treated good.
You just might want to make sure you pack your own alarm clock.
ANYWAY...since Uncle Dennis and his clan were coming in and they don't get to see Granny as often as we do, we vacated the premises on Saturday and headed up to Uncle Murph and Aunt Diana's. They just did some remodeling to their house, which looks really nice. We told them we didn't realize we were staying at the Waldorf this weekend! I hate to see what Uncle Murph charges us!
So, they get us each (Mom, Adam and I...Hezzo wasn't there yet) settled into our respective rooms and we hit the sack, planning on getting up in time for church in the morning. I was upstairs where I could snooze (aka: snore) and not wake up the whole house. About 6:20 I wake up and have to go to the bathroom. So I go staggering through the room with that groggy "where exactly am I at??" feeling and finally find the stairway. I head down tediously, all the while praying I don't fall down them and break my neck. Thankfully, all limbs are intact when I reach the bottom. As I now try to orient myself to the room and navigate to the bathroom, I suddenly hear a voice from the darkness say "Why on earth didn't you turn on that light before you came downstairs!" Apparently Aunt Diana is laying on the couch. She just about scared me to death! So I tell her I was lucky to find the stairs, let alone the light and I gotta go to the bathroom. She allows me to do so. (Awfully nice of her, huh?!)
So now I'm staggering back and I tell her it's way too early to be up and I'm going back to bed. So she asks me what time I want to get up and that she'll come wake me. Wow, they do wake up calls at this hotel. So I tell her about 8:15 would be good, and off to dreamland I go.
Well, now I actually figured that when I got back to bed I wouldn't actually go back to sleep because I usually won't let myself when I know I have to get up for something in just a little bit. But apparently I was like dead tired or something, because I remember nothing. Nothing that is until I feel something on my arm. It was like a little rubbing feeling up and down my forearm. And then I hear this voice going..."Woo Hoo........Woo Hoo......" I sleepily open my eyes and see my dear Aunt standing there rubbing her finger on my arm making the aforementioned "Woo Hoo" noise. Gotta say, never had a wake up call quite like this before. Now, I'm a bit jumpy when startled (get that from my dad), so my first instinct was to draw my fist back like I might deck whoever was, Oh...I don't know....standing over my bed rubbing my arm and saying "Woo Hoo". Fortunately, the tiny little voice in my head starts yelling at me..."IT'S YOUR AUNT - DON'T PUNCH HER, DON'T PUNCH HER!!!"
Thank the good Lord my arm listened and stayed right where it was.
That would have been really, really bad.
Really bad.
So, I would just like to say that if you have occasion to stay at the Murphy Hotel some night, you're sure to be treated good.
You just might want to make sure you pack your own alarm clock.
Monday, May 25, 2009
Kentucky Conversations
So, we spent the weekend with the fam in KY. It was a lot of fun, and great to see everyone that we were able to this time around. As Aunt Diana so succinctly put it at one point in the weekend, "You just really forget how crazy all these people are until you spend a day with them again, don't you?!"
As we were driving home last night I was thinking about some of the conversations we'd had and phrases I'd heard over the last 3 days. There was no way not to laugh and just wonder what a stranger would have thought if they'd been passing by and heard some of these comments (honest to goodness, somebody in my family actually said these...):
"After I stuck my hand in my pop then the waiter carried me out..."
"Well, if I was named after an animal sound she'd be able to say my name too!"
"I want a tooth for my anniversary..."
"We live in a former leper colony"
"You can sleep with my husband"
"We spent 3/4 of the morning plunging the sink!"
"See my hoe blister?!"
"Do you all snort like she does??"
"I eat Vick's Salve every night..."
As we were driving home last night I was thinking about some of the conversations we'd had and phrases I'd heard over the last 3 days. There was no way not to laugh and just wonder what a stranger would have thought if they'd been passing by and heard some of these comments (honest to goodness, somebody in my family actually said these...):
"Has anybody seen my purple caboodle?"
"Hey, I'm just as capable of reproducing as he is!"
"Well, you see, I pulled a muscle in my shoulder throwing the pigs back in the pen..."
(We almost never hear statements like this in Northern Ohio!)
"After I stuck my hand in my pop then the waiter carried me out..."
"Well, if I was named after an animal sound she'd be able to say my name too!"
"I want a tooth for my anniversary..."
"We live in a former leper colony"
"She likes to eat dirt"
"You can sleep with my husband"
(OK, I'm not gonna tell who said this, but I promise...I was not at ALL meant like it sounds!)
"We spent 3/4 of the morning plunging the sink!"
"See my hoe blister?!"
"Do you all snort like she does??"
"I need somebody to wash dishes and stay out of my way!!"
"I eat Vick's Salve every night..."
Believe it or not, it all really did make sense in the context of what was being spoken. (Well, with the exception of the Vick's Salve thing. I don't think you could really put that statement into a sensible context! But we do love you anyway Shelley!) And now that I've actually said out loud that these things made sense, it gives me a bit of pause to stop and worry about myself.
Eh, I'll be fine. Just as soon as I find that purple caboodle....
To My Family
Well, we're back in Ohio after an action packed weekend with our clan in KY. I'm a wee bit tired, so going to keep tonight short and sweet with a little message to the family....
So glad God gave us another chance to be together once more. I sure had a good time.
I miss you all already!
More blogging about the weekend to come in the days ahead....and I'm working on the pictures! (So you'll just have to be patient Shelley!)
Love you all....
So glad God gave us another chance to be together once more. I sure had a good time.
I miss you all already!
More blogging about the weekend to come in the days ahead....and I'm working on the pictures! (So you'll just have to be patient Shelley!)
Love you all....
Thursday, May 21, 2009
Lunching with Lauer
So, I spent the day sitting in a seminar in Cleveland. Corporate seminars are kind of funny sometimes. Well, the people attending are. Actually, corporate seminars are rarely funny. They're usually kind of boring. So, when they're too bad, I amuse myself by watching the people. (Though today's wasn't bad...but I still watched the people. I don't know why I'm rambling on about this...)
You can group people in a seminar into the same type of groups that you would high school kids. There's the:
You can group people in a seminar into the same type of groups that you would high school kids. There's the:
- "Eager Beavers" who grab a seat right up in the front. (Although some of these people I'm sure picked the front just so they could see the screen since the eyesight probably ain't what it used to be!)
- "I've Had More Experience Than Anyone Else And I MUST Share It With You So I Look Impressive" types. These are the ones that at the end of the day when you just want the instructor to dismiss the class has to make ANOTHER comment or ask ANOTHER question (which oftentimes they then feel compelled to answer themselves) and you just want to go pop their head off if they don't SHUT UP!
- "Can't Get Away From My Job At All" type. These are the ones always on their Blackberry or firing up their laptop to check their e-mail while the instructor is trying to teach. This person always sits in front of me so as to provide the optimal amount of distraction during the day. I understand it to a point, but consider the others around you!
- "I Don't Want To Talk...I Don't Want To Participate...My Boss Forced Me To Come To This Thing" type. They usually try to find a dense area or the very back where they can hunker down and hide just in case the instructor decides to ask them something.
- "I'm Just Glad To Be Out Of The Office" type. These guys look like they're about half asleep through most of the thing. But at least they're not doing actual work...
Then there's just the group of average Joes who are truly there to improve their careers and hope they didn't make the company waste $200 or so on the day. After a few of these things you start to figure out which ones are probably worth going to. Today's was good. The Company will be glad to know their money was put to good use.
And as an added bonus, I got to eat lunch with Matt Lauer.
Or some dude who looked amazingly like him.
(I'm thinking it was the latter since his name tag actually said "Mark")
All in all, a good day. But..I'm glad to be back home!
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
On The Road
I'm blogging tonight from a hotel room in Independence, Ohio which is just outside of Cleveland. I have to take a class tomorrow at Case Western University, which is downtown Cleveland and I didn't want to have to get up at 3 in the morning to get there. (Or 5...whatever.) I would have stayed actually in Cleveland, but tonight is the first night of the Eastern Conference NBA Finals, duly hosted by LaBron James and Co. in downtown Cleveland. (GO CAVS!) Which means you probably can't move in that place...so I'm out here in the "suburbs".
Booked this room at a Holiday Inn Express. Figured was like a 3 or 4 story hotel, right? Wrong. I pulled in this parking lot and there's about 800 cars in here. That's really not much of an exaggeration. I can find NOWHERE to park. So I end up in front of some trailer that I wouldn't be surprised if they tow away in the middle of the night, probably obliterating my car along with it. Good thing I'm driving a company vehicle.
So I finally get in this place, and there's all these booths set up. Seems they're having a bridge conference here today. No, not the kind that you drive over. The card game kind. Yeah, that's right...you know, the game old people play. Which probably explains why there are 800 old people jamming the hallways. (Which probably explains the 800 cars in the parking lot too!) Have you ever tried to get through a hallway of 800 old people. Not easy....not fun. I thought I was gonna have to deck a couple of 'em. (HA - "deck"...get it...cards...deck....good one, huh?!)
So I finally fight my way to the front desk and have to stand behind a woman who is mad because her refrigerator is broke. Oh for the love of Mike lady...move on! Then some guy come stands behind me and seems to know everyone who walks by. Because they all call him by name and he keeps repeating "You never saw me here. Just remember, you never saw me here!" OK....time for me to move on!
So after unloading my junk I'm hungry, so I head out for food. My little Garmin (who is one of the most wonderful pieces of technology I've ever owned!) tells me there's an Olive Garden 4.3 miles away. I hear Chicken & Gnocchi soup calling. What Mr. Garmin failed to tell me was that the 4.3 miles was construction all the way. I might as well have gone back to Mansfield. Lord. I finally find the Garden and head in. My waiter looks like an extremely skinny Kenny Bishop (if you know who he is. Gospel singer) And I can't understand a word he says. Seriously. He looks at me and says something that sounds like "Ah Bah blahdoo bonis de bibberbot?" I have no idea. So I just nod. He could have just told me that he's going to cut out my own liver and serve it to me tonight. I just kept nodding. Lord.
I eat as quickly as I can because I'm tired and just want to get back to the hotel. But first I need to grab a couple things at the Store. So I head out and stand in the parking lot. I'm just standing there because I can't find my car. It seems I've forgotten that I'm driving a company car. Then when I do remember that, I can't remember what it looks like. I have this problem with that car all the time. I don't know what's wrong with me. I finally hit the remote key lock until I see the lights blinking, and it's off to find a store. Wal Mart is across the road. Giant Eagle is right behind me. The Eagle it is. I want three things. A couple bottles of water, some Snyder's cheese popcorn and toothpaste, as I am pretty sure I left mine at home. Find the water...move along. I have to walk through the largest selection of alcohol that I have ever seen. Honest to goodness, I had no idea so many booze choices existed. Apparently they like to drink in this town. From there to the snack aisle, where they have every kind of chip and snack known to man. Every kind that is, except Snyder's Cheese Popcorn. Unbelievable. I buy a bag of off brand and head out. Well, after I stand in the parking lot a while trying to find the car....
The trip back wasn't quite as bad as the trip going. Everyone is probably in watching the start of the Cavs game now. I get back to my room (still have to park in front of that trailer) and try to settle in. It's then that I remember the third thing I needed from the store. No Toothpaste. Good Grief. So I call the front desk for help, and walla - someone magically appears with a little tube to save me. I then spend 15 minutes trying to connect to the "complimentary wireless service" that they claim is throughout this building. I FINALLY get on and see that Jasmine has sent me a note on Facebook about my last blog. I respond back to her - will be exciting to get together this weekend! Then I go into my corporate e-mail and see a stupid note from a stupid vendor, which I forward to my boss with a sarcastic note that I probably should not have sent. Ah, never know when to quit while I'm ahead!
So that brings me to this point....laying on the bed blogging and watching the Cavs blow the Magic away. I guess the night could have been worse. I hope the morning is just a bit better, however!
Night All!
Booked this room at a Holiday Inn Express. Figured was like a 3 or 4 story hotel, right? Wrong. I pulled in this parking lot and there's about 800 cars in here. That's really not much of an exaggeration. I can find NOWHERE to park. So I end up in front of some trailer that I wouldn't be surprised if they tow away in the middle of the night, probably obliterating my car along with it. Good thing I'm driving a company vehicle.
So I finally get in this place, and there's all these booths set up. Seems they're having a bridge conference here today. No, not the kind that you drive over. The card game kind. Yeah, that's right...you know, the game old people play. Which probably explains why there are 800 old people jamming the hallways. (Which probably explains the 800 cars in the parking lot too!) Have you ever tried to get through a hallway of 800 old people. Not easy....not fun. I thought I was gonna have to deck a couple of 'em. (HA - "deck"...get it...cards...deck....good one, huh?!)
So I finally fight my way to the front desk and have to stand behind a woman who is mad because her refrigerator is broke. Oh for the love of Mike lady...move on! Then some guy come stands behind me and seems to know everyone who walks by. Because they all call him by name and he keeps repeating "You never saw me here. Just remember, you never saw me here!" OK....time for me to move on!
So after unloading my junk I'm hungry, so I head out for food. My little Garmin (who is one of the most wonderful pieces of technology I've ever owned!) tells me there's an Olive Garden 4.3 miles away. I hear Chicken & Gnocchi soup calling. What Mr. Garmin failed to tell me was that the 4.3 miles was construction all the way. I might as well have gone back to Mansfield. Lord. I finally find the Garden and head in. My waiter looks like an extremely skinny Kenny Bishop (if you know who he is. Gospel singer) And I can't understand a word he says. Seriously. He looks at me and says something that sounds like "Ah Bah blahdoo bonis de bibberbot?" I have no idea. So I just nod. He could have just told me that he's going to cut out my own liver and serve it to me tonight. I just kept nodding. Lord.
I eat as quickly as I can because I'm tired and just want to get back to the hotel. But first I need to grab a couple things at the Store. So I head out and stand in the parking lot. I'm just standing there because I can't find my car. It seems I've forgotten that I'm driving a company car. Then when I do remember that, I can't remember what it looks like. I have this problem with that car all the time. I don't know what's wrong with me. I finally hit the remote key lock until I see the lights blinking, and it's off to find a store. Wal Mart is across the road. Giant Eagle is right behind me. The Eagle it is. I want three things. A couple bottles of water, some Snyder's cheese popcorn and toothpaste, as I am pretty sure I left mine at home. Find the water...move along. I have to walk through the largest selection of alcohol that I have ever seen. Honest to goodness, I had no idea so many booze choices existed. Apparently they like to drink in this town. From there to the snack aisle, where they have every kind of chip and snack known to man. Every kind that is, except Snyder's Cheese Popcorn. Unbelievable. I buy a bag of off brand and head out. Well, after I stand in the parking lot a while trying to find the car....
The trip back wasn't quite as bad as the trip going. Everyone is probably in watching the start of the Cavs game now. I get back to my room (still have to park in front of that trailer) and try to settle in. It's then that I remember the third thing I needed from the store. No Toothpaste. Good Grief. So I call the front desk for help, and walla - someone magically appears with a little tube to save me. I then spend 15 minutes trying to connect to the "complimentary wireless service" that they claim is throughout this building. I FINALLY get on and see that Jasmine has sent me a note on Facebook about my last blog. I respond back to her - will be exciting to get together this weekend! Then I go into my corporate e-mail and see a stupid note from a stupid vendor, which I forward to my boss with a sarcastic note that I probably should not have sent. Ah, never know when to quit while I'm ahead!
So that brings me to this point....laying on the bed blogging and watching the Cavs blow the Magic away. I guess the night could have been worse. I hope the morning is just a bit better, however!
Night All!
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Back To The Hills
Well, this weekend should be a fun one. We Ohio Browns are heading back to our heritage...our roots...our old homestead. Time for a trip to KY to see our loving family.
My uncle and his wife are coming in from Arizona. So is his son, his wife and baby. We've not got to see little Maeve in person yet. That should be a lot of fun. We'll migrate down from the North, and all the others will gather in from whatever area of KY they may be hanging out in. There will be lots of chatter, food and laughter. You probably won't be able to hear yourself think most of the time. When you can finally hear that little voice going off in your head, you'll probably hear it saying something like "Can you believe you're related to this crazy bunch of people??"
And you'll gladly answer back..."Yeah..pretty cool, huh?!"
Monday, May 18, 2009
Mom's "Help"
I love my mom. I think you know that if you read my Mother's Day blog. She really is a great lady. However, she does have an interesting methodology of "helping" sometimes. At best, it certainly keeps things entertaining. At worst, it brings a slight level of "chaotic" to what would be an otherwise ordinary ordeal...
She, Adam and I were heading to Mansfield the other day after she and Adam had planted Belinda the tree. (See her blog for additional details on this. I'm really not inclined to comment much more on a tree named Belinda.) As we were heading out ST RT 39, Adam commented that there was a nice looking Volkswagen Passat for sale on up the road. I've been contemplating the purchase of another vehicle lately, as my car sounds like the back end is about to fall off at any moment. I don't know what's wrong with the crazy thing. I've had it about 6 or 7 years now and it's pushing 135,000 miles, so I guess it's just getting old and cranky. Eh, it happens to the best of us, I suppose.
So anyway, we get up close to where this car is parked, and I'm trying to check it out. It does look like a nice little thing. So I figure wouldn't hurt to give a call about it. They have the phone number written in soap on the window. So, I quickly scramble for my cell phone to record the number in my "notes" area, and while I'm doing that shout out the following to Mom and Adam..."Remember this number --- 555-2290!" (By the way, I'm doing the little Hollywood movie trick here of using a bogus number just in case someone out there thinks it will be all cute to prank call the actual number and drive the phone number owner crazy! Always one step ahead, I am....)
Anyway, I no sooner finish saying the "0" on the number, when Mom and Adam immediately start repeating it. Well, let me clarify. Adam starts repeating the number. Mom, on the other hand, just starts shouting out random numbers. So, I'm hearing this male voice shouting "555-2290", and a female voice shouting "52289746390..."
Well, then Mom's shouting of numbers got Adam confused with his shouting of numbers, so he reverts to dropping one of the digits and now is just shouting "555-290". Meanwhile, I'm shouting "Mom - stop saying numbers!", which in turn makes Mom start laughing hysterically, while Adam continues to shout "555-290!"
Good lord.
Anyway, I finally get the correct number recorded (How, I have no idea) and everyone to stop shouting. Mom then has the nerve to tell me that she is not going to help me anymore when I ask her for something.
I hear ya Ma.....I hear ya....
She, Adam and I were heading to Mansfield the other day after she and Adam had planted Belinda the tree. (See her blog for additional details on this. I'm really not inclined to comment much more on a tree named Belinda.) As we were heading out ST RT 39, Adam commented that there was a nice looking Volkswagen Passat for sale on up the road. I've been contemplating the purchase of another vehicle lately, as my car sounds like the back end is about to fall off at any moment. I don't know what's wrong with the crazy thing. I've had it about 6 or 7 years now and it's pushing 135,000 miles, so I guess it's just getting old and cranky. Eh, it happens to the best of us, I suppose.
So anyway, we get up close to where this car is parked, and I'm trying to check it out. It does look like a nice little thing. So I figure wouldn't hurt to give a call about it. They have the phone number written in soap on the window. So, I quickly scramble for my cell phone to record the number in my "notes" area, and while I'm doing that shout out the following to Mom and Adam..."Remember this number --- 555-2290!" (By the way, I'm doing the little Hollywood movie trick here of using a bogus number just in case someone out there thinks it will be all cute to prank call the actual number and drive the phone number owner crazy! Always one step ahead, I am....)
Anyway, I no sooner finish saying the "0" on the number, when Mom and Adam immediately start repeating it. Well, let me clarify. Adam starts repeating the number. Mom, on the other hand, just starts shouting out random numbers. So, I'm hearing this male voice shouting "555-2290", and a female voice shouting "52289746390..."
Well, then Mom's shouting of numbers got Adam confused with his shouting of numbers, so he reverts to dropping one of the digits and now is just shouting "555-290". Meanwhile, I'm shouting "Mom - stop saying numbers!", which in turn makes Mom start laughing hysterically, while Adam continues to shout "555-290!"
Good lord.
Anyway, I finally get the correct number recorded (How, I have no idea) and everyone to stop shouting. Mom then has the nerve to tell me that she is not going to help me anymore when I ask her for something.
I hear ya Ma.....I hear ya....
Friday, May 15, 2009
Satchel Silliness
I took 1/2 day off of work yesterday, planning to enjoy just a little R & R. Instead, I ended up chasing all over Mansfield with Mom for one of the most daunting challenges that a woman faces.
We had to buy a new purse.
Now, this may sound like a simple task to all of those non-purse carriers out there. Particularly the males. However, they would be wrong. In actuality, buying a new purse runs akin to purchasing a new house. Trying to decide if you can live with 2 bedrooms instead of 3 or a laundry room in the basement instead of on the first floor is no less taxing than the possibilities that face you with a purse purchase. After all, you're not going to carry your house around on your arm day in and day out, now are you?!
So we spend the next 2 hours in various stores having conversations something like this....
How many compartments does this one have? No, just one is no good...everything gets lost in it.
Oh, I like this one...except it just snaps. Put too much in it and it won't stay closed.
OK, this one zips. Ehh...but the zipper's really tight. Those are hard to get larger items in and out of.
Oh - here's a nice one....wait, no outside pockets. I'll never find my keys.
Hey, I like this one! OH....Good grief, look at how short the handles are! You'd never be able to carry it on your shoulder!
OK, the compartments are nice on this one, but it's ugly as sin!
Good night, this one is as big as a duffel bag!
Good night, you couldn't even fit a Kleenex in this one!
Why in the world would they use such a horrendous color??
Do they have this one in something other than black?? I always end up with black!!
Man, this one weighs 30 pounds without anything in it!
Finally!! This one is perfect! I love it! How much does it cost?......OK - put it back on the shelf and back away slowly....
It's a harrowing ordeal, I tell you. Finally God smiles upon us and the "perfect" (or almost so) handbag reveals itself with a heavenly light and angels singing. OK, so it only has one outside pocket. And it's black.
I guess we can't have everything in life, now can we??
We had to buy a new purse.
Now, this may sound like a simple task to all of those non-purse carriers out there. Particularly the males. However, they would be wrong. In actuality, buying a new purse runs akin to purchasing a new house. Trying to decide if you can live with 2 bedrooms instead of 3 or a laundry room in the basement instead of on the first floor is no less taxing than the possibilities that face you with a purse purchase. After all, you're not going to carry your house around on your arm day in and day out, now are you?!
So we spend the next 2 hours in various stores having conversations something like this....
How many compartments does this one have? No, just one is no good...everything gets lost in it.
Oh, I like this one...except it just snaps. Put too much in it and it won't stay closed.
OK, this one zips. Ehh...but the zipper's really tight. Those are hard to get larger items in and out of.
Oh - here's a nice one....wait, no outside pockets. I'll never find my keys.
Hey, I like this one! OH....Good grief, look at how short the handles are! You'd never be able to carry it on your shoulder!
OK, the compartments are nice on this one, but it's ugly as sin!
Good night, this one is as big as a duffel bag!
Good night, you couldn't even fit a Kleenex in this one!
Why in the world would they use such a horrendous color??
Do they have this one in something other than black?? I always end up with black!!
Man, this one weighs 30 pounds without anything in it!
Finally!! This one is perfect! I love it! How much does it cost?......OK - put it back on the shelf and back away slowly....
It's a harrowing ordeal, I tell you. Finally God smiles upon us and the "perfect" (or almost so) handbag reveals itself with a heavenly light and angels singing. OK, so it only has one outside pocket. And it's black.
I guess we can't have everything in life, now can we??
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Animal Instinct
Saw a video today of a dog that was injured in the middle of a street in NY. As he lay there and police try to help him, another dog comes running down the road and starts barking at them...trying to protect his buddy from more harm. It's really kind of touching to watch. I think animal instincts are amazing. I read once about an elderly person who fell in their house and was unable to get help. Their dog would take a towel to its water dish and soak it, then drag it back to its master and lay it over their face to let them suck the water out of it. (I found it most amazing that it didn't suffocate the owner!) This went on for several days. When the water dish ran dry, the dog reverted to the toilet to soak the rag. Had it not been for the persistent (though slightly gross) caring of the animal, the individual would not have made it. Talk about man's best friend!
Or then there is the tale of Tommy, the cat who's owner fell from his wheelchair and couldn't get to the phone to call for help. No need to worry...Tommy took care of it for him. Literally, the cat calls 911 for help. Good grief...some humans aren't that bright!
But my personal favorite is about a pig named Lulu. When the lady watching Lulu for her daughter had a massive heart attack, Lulu sprang into action. She ran out into the road and laid down in the middle of the street to stop traffic and get someone to follow her back to the house for help. That had to be a sight to see. Lulu ran back and forth several times to check on the lady while trying to get help. Her relentlessness paid off, and the lady was taken to the hospital where she fully recovered. I'll bet that lady never dreamed that someday she would owe her life to a pig. I wonder if she gave up eating bacon after that?
There are some humans out there who could take a lesson or two from the animals about how to treat other people. So just remember as you travel life's way out there, be kind to the animals. You never know when their instinct may be your safety net!
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Pets I Have Known
They're an important part of many a household. Fuzzy, furry, feathery, fluffy, fishy....all hail the family pet!
Our first pet was a cute little dog named Bandit. I think she was a mutt, but I always thought she looked like a small Lassie. She was a smart little thing. We had a shared driveway at our house, and she would only bark if someone pulled into our side of it. Mom said she used to take little trips around the neighborhood and visit some of the folks down the road. They'd call and tell mom they had her and they'd bring her home in a little bit. Quite the social animal she was...
However, the time came when we had to have her put to sleep. That was hard...so dad decided to bring in another dog to ease the pain. Enter George. George looked like that sheep dog that played with Wile E. Coyote in the Looney Tunes cartoons. And George was dumb. Really, really dumb. For one thing, he was huge. And Heather and I weren't. I can't count the number of times he knocked us to the ground. Big lug. He also chewed mom's rosebushes to the ground...thorns and all. And I believe he's the one that had the lovely habit of taking his waterdish and flinging it up in the air and allowing it to land on the concrete patio repeatedly. He most enjoyed doing this throughout the night hours. The neighbors didn't seem to enjoy it so much. Dad finally had to get rid of George. I think he dumped him off on my Aunt and Uncle. It's a wonder they still speak to us.
After that, mom said no more pets. So, we were petless for a while. Then one day dad shows up carrying his hat in his hand. He calls us over to show us what he has....and there's a little toy poodle hanging out in his hat. Hello Molly! Now, this was a dog. You talk about personality and attitude in a tiny little black furry package. Molly had spirit. When someone came over to the house she would bark and bark. Mom would yell at her to stop so she'd squeeze in behind the couch to continue her woofing. Mom would yell again and we'd hear it go silent for a second...then one tiny little "woof" would eke out from her hiding place. No matter how many times you told her to stop, she would always wait you out (sometimes quite a while) and make sure she got the last "woof" in!
She also hated baths. Fortunately she was small enough that you could generally get her in the tub, but the second you got her out, man, it was like a streak of lightning had been let loose. She would run full speed through our tiny little house like an ignited rocket. She literally would scorch into the living room, take a flying leap and jump against the back of the couch so hard that it would rock. Woe to you if you got in her way. Just ask Heather about the night she was sitting on the couch when Molly was released from her bath. I'll be she still has a bruise where that little pup slammed into her!
Mom would usually let her upstairs after we'd gone to bed, and she would normally sleep with me. Up she'd come, her little toenails clacking on the tile floor. She'd take a running leap and try to get in bed with me. Unfortunately, she was too small and the bed was too high, so what you'd hear was "clickity-clickity-clickity-clickity.....thump" Then she'd back up and try again. And again. And again. Until finally Heather would scream from the other room "PUT MOLLY IN THE BED WITH YOU!" So I'd have to get up and put her up there. She then would promptly take over every ounce of sleeping space that I had. Now, she was little, but forceful. She would get between me and the wall and stiffen her legs out as far as they could go, pushing me to the very brink of the mattress. And if you tried to move her to make her give you more room, she'd just stay in that stiff position regardless if you picked her up or whatever. Eventually she'd crawl down under the covers and sleep by my feet. Which was fine until about 2 or 3 in the morning when she'd get hot and come crawling out from under there, blowing her panting dog breath in my face. I loved her...but that was nasty!
Well, we lost Molly to a tour bus one night. (Toy poodles have no chance against stupid tour buses!) Losing her was really hard. So we vowed off pets. That is, until one of Heather's friends needed to get rid of a bird. A bird named Tipsy. It didn't take us long to realize why they named it that. She'd be sitting there on her little perch fine as frog hair, then all of a sudden...she'd just fall off. It was very bizarre and fairly entertaining to watch. Poor thing...It either needed therapy or AA....
Tipsy loved to sing with me when I played the piano. She'd just chirp and chirp away. There was also one particular Christmas CD she must have liked, because she would always sing with it too. Not the others...just that one. It was kind of funny how she always knew it was that one playing. Mom decided one day Tipsy needed some exercise, so we let her loose in the house. Gotta say, that was not one of the wiser decisions we've ever made. It seems that birds who have been caged up, then are let free, are not so willing to oblige you to enter back into the cage again. After we FINALLY caught her, that was the last of little Tipsy's freedom fest!
Well, we actually ended up killing Tipsy. Not intentionally, of course. See, we sat her birdcage on top of the entertainment center. The heat rising up from the TV would keep her warm during the day, but then at night she would get very cold when it was off. So basically, she caught pneumonia from it. By the time we recognized it and got her to the vet, it was too late. Little Tipsy fell from her last perch. (And we all felt like dogs....pardon the very weak pun there.)
Someday, if I ever get my own place, I may get me another pet. Until then, I'll just cherish the fond memories of Bandit, Molly and Tipsy.
And the fond memory of getting rid of George.
I guess all pets can't be good ones!
Our first pet was a cute little dog named Bandit. I think she was a mutt, but I always thought she looked like a small Lassie. She was a smart little thing. We had a shared driveway at our house, and she would only bark if someone pulled into our side of it. Mom said she used to take little trips around the neighborhood and visit some of the folks down the road. They'd call and tell mom they had her and they'd bring her home in a little bit. Quite the social animal she was...
However, the time came when we had to have her put to sleep. That was hard...so dad decided to bring in another dog to ease the pain. Enter George. George looked like that sheep dog that played with Wile E. Coyote in the Looney Tunes cartoons. And George was dumb. Really, really dumb. For one thing, he was huge. And Heather and I weren't. I can't count the number of times he knocked us to the ground. Big lug. He also chewed mom's rosebushes to the ground...thorns and all. And I believe he's the one that had the lovely habit of taking his waterdish and flinging it up in the air and allowing it to land on the concrete patio repeatedly. He most enjoyed doing this throughout the night hours. The neighbors didn't seem to enjoy it so much. Dad finally had to get rid of George. I think he dumped him off on my Aunt and Uncle. It's a wonder they still speak to us.
After that, mom said no more pets. So, we were petless for a while. Then one day dad shows up carrying his hat in his hand. He calls us over to show us what he has....and there's a little toy poodle hanging out in his hat. Hello Molly! Now, this was a dog. You talk about personality and attitude in a tiny little black furry package. Molly had spirit. When someone came over to the house she would bark and bark. Mom would yell at her to stop so she'd squeeze in behind the couch to continue her woofing. Mom would yell again and we'd hear it go silent for a second...then one tiny little "woof" would eke out from her hiding place. No matter how many times you told her to stop, she would always wait you out (sometimes quite a while) and make sure she got the last "woof" in!
She also hated baths. Fortunately she was small enough that you could generally get her in the tub, but the second you got her out, man, it was like a streak of lightning had been let loose. She would run full speed through our tiny little house like an ignited rocket. She literally would scorch into the living room, take a flying leap and jump against the back of the couch so hard that it would rock. Woe to you if you got in her way. Just ask Heather about the night she was sitting on the couch when Molly was released from her bath. I'll be she still has a bruise where that little pup slammed into her!
Mom would usually let her upstairs after we'd gone to bed, and she would normally sleep with me. Up she'd come, her little toenails clacking on the tile floor. She'd take a running leap and try to get in bed with me. Unfortunately, she was too small and the bed was too high, so what you'd hear was "clickity-clickity-clickity-clickity.....thump" Then she'd back up and try again. And again. And again. Until finally Heather would scream from the other room "PUT MOLLY IN THE BED WITH YOU!" So I'd have to get up and put her up there. She then would promptly take over every ounce of sleeping space that I had. Now, she was little, but forceful. She would get between me and the wall and stiffen her legs out as far as they could go, pushing me to the very brink of the mattress. And if you tried to move her to make her give you more room, she'd just stay in that stiff position regardless if you picked her up or whatever. Eventually she'd crawl down under the covers and sleep by my feet. Which was fine until about 2 or 3 in the morning when she'd get hot and come crawling out from under there, blowing her panting dog breath in my face. I loved her...but that was nasty!
Well, we lost Molly to a tour bus one night. (Toy poodles have no chance against stupid tour buses!) Losing her was really hard. So we vowed off pets. That is, until one of Heather's friends needed to get rid of a bird. A bird named Tipsy. It didn't take us long to realize why they named it that. She'd be sitting there on her little perch fine as frog hair, then all of a sudden...she'd just fall off. It was very bizarre and fairly entertaining to watch. Poor thing...It either needed therapy or AA....
Tipsy loved to sing with me when I played the piano. She'd just chirp and chirp away. There was also one particular Christmas CD she must have liked, because she would always sing with it too. Not the others...just that one. It was kind of funny how she always knew it was that one playing. Mom decided one day Tipsy needed some exercise, so we let her loose in the house. Gotta say, that was not one of the wiser decisions we've ever made. It seems that birds who have been caged up, then are let free, are not so willing to oblige you to enter back into the cage again. After we FINALLY caught her, that was the last of little Tipsy's freedom fest!
Well, we actually ended up killing Tipsy. Not intentionally, of course. See, we sat her birdcage on top of the entertainment center. The heat rising up from the TV would keep her warm during the day, but then at night she would get very cold when it was off. So basically, she caught pneumonia from it. By the time we recognized it and got her to the vet, it was too late. Little Tipsy fell from her last perch. (And we all felt like dogs....pardon the very weak pun there.)
Someday, if I ever get my own place, I may get me another pet. Until then, I'll just cherish the fond memories of Bandit, Molly and Tipsy.
And the fond memory of getting rid of George.
I guess all pets can't be good ones!
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Techno Not So Much...
The ever evolving face of technology is amazing to me. I'm sitting here tonight watching the basketball play-offs in High Def. WOW...it's amazing. I mean, you can just about feel the sweat flinging off the players and smack you in the face as they run across the court. (Eww, that's kind of gross.) How far things have come since those gigantic black and white sets everybody used to own!
However, I have noticed that some technology is not so good, you know? Here's a perfect example. I went into Walmart the other day and had to visit the ladies room. So in the stall I go. Lord help me.......It's one of those that flush automatically when you stand up. I would like to formally go on the record and just say that whoever invented these things should be beaten over the head with a toilet plunger.
I am not kidding.
So, there's 4 stalls. Of course, I pick the one with a schizophrenia issue. You know...that one that if you move even 1/4 of an inch one way or another it thinks you're on your way out the door, so it dutifully kicks the megapower water spray into gear. Which of course soaks me to the bone. And then when I reach over to get some toilet paper to attempt to dry myself off, it just sets it off again. So I finally give up and finish my business then stand up and try to dry off as best as I can with toilet paper that you can actually see through if you hold it up to the light. I mean, good night...they sell 75 kinds of toilet paper in Walmart, and they can't give their customers any better than that??
Of course now, when I stand up all flushing action ceases immediately. And then I realize that everything I wanted to get rid of is still hanging around, so I start this insane little dance trying to set off the sensor. Well, you may wonder, why didn't I just push the little "fail-safe" button on the back of the stall? Well, I will answer, I did. Shockingly, I must say, it didn't work. So I have to just say a prayer that when I open the door and step out it will realize that I have left and do what it needs to do. Thank the Lord...it did. I guess we all need a little privacy at times, huh...
Well, that trial behind me, things are looking up. Until I get to the sink. You guessed it...one of those wave your hand underneath it to get the water to come out. These are worse than the toilets. At least in the stall nobody can see you dancing around like an idiot to get the stupid thing to work. I feel like I'm doing some type of Japanese Kyoto dance or something trying to find the one little spot that the sensor can see. FINALLY - the water spews forth! I rejoice as Moses must have when the water came forth from the rock in the wilderness! (But I'll bet he didn't have as much trouble getting it as I did!) YOW - It's scalding!! Ridiculous!
Now the worst is still to come. The motion-sensored hand towel. Literally, for quite some time I would always walk around the stores with wet hand stains on my pants because I could not EVER get those things to work. Some days still, it's just not worth the effort.
So, while I applaud the wonders of modern technology, inventors should realize there are still some things that should remain sacred.
In other words...Stay Out of the Bathroom!
However, I have noticed that some technology is not so good, you know? Here's a perfect example. I went into Walmart the other day and had to visit the ladies room. So in the stall I go. Lord help me.......It's one of those that flush automatically when you stand up. I would like to formally go on the record and just say that whoever invented these things should be beaten over the head with a toilet plunger.
I am not kidding.
So, there's 4 stalls. Of course, I pick the one with a schizophrenia issue. You know...that one that if you move even 1/4 of an inch one way or another it thinks you're on your way out the door, so it dutifully kicks the megapower water spray into gear. Which of course soaks me to the bone. And then when I reach over to get some toilet paper to attempt to dry myself off, it just sets it off again. So I finally give up and finish my business then stand up and try to dry off as best as I can with toilet paper that you can actually see through if you hold it up to the light. I mean, good night...they sell 75 kinds of toilet paper in Walmart, and they can't give their customers any better than that??
Of course now, when I stand up all flushing action ceases immediately. And then I realize that everything I wanted to get rid of is still hanging around, so I start this insane little dance trying to set off the sensor. Well, you may wonder, why didn't I just push the little "fail-safe" button on the back of the stall? Well, I will answer, I did. Shockingly, I must say, it didn't work. So I have to just say a prayer that when I open the door and step out it will realize that I have left and do what it needs to do. Thank the Lord...it did. I guess we all need a little privacy at times, huh...
Well, that trial behind me, things are looking up. Until I get to the sink. You guessed it...one of those wave your hand underneath it to get the water to come out. These are worse than the toilets. At least in the stall nobody can see you dancing around like an idiot to get the stupid thing to work. I feel like I'm doing some type of Japanese Kyoto dance or something trying to find the one little spot that the sensor can see. FINALLY - the water spews forth! I rejoice as Moses must have when the water came forth from the rock in the wilderness! (But I'll bet he didn't have as much trouble getting it as I did!) YOW - It's scalding!! Ridiculous!
Now the worst is still to come. The motion-sensored hand towel. Literally, for quite some time I would always walk around the stores with wet hand stains on my pants because I could not EVER get those things to work. Some days still, it's just not worth the effort.
So, while I applaud the wonders of modern technology, inventors should realize there are still some things that should remain sacred.
In other words...Stay Out of the Bathroom!
Sunday, May 10, 2009
My Mammy...
Today is Mother's day. I've been thinking about my blog all week. I knew I wanted it to be a special one...something to blow you away and make you understand just how wonderful my mom is. But as it turns out, the words that I have in my vocabulary aren't even close to adequate to make that description. I guess I'm discovering that it's more something that I just know...from all the little things she does for us...than I can actually describe.
There's a million little reasons why she's the best mom ever. Like...when she makes me a skirt, she always puts pockets in it...even if the pattern doesn't call for pockets...because she knows I like pockets. And when she makes Potato Soup that she knows Adam would rather die than eat, she always makes sure she has a can of Chicken Noodle just for him. And when she sees a blouse in a size -2 (or whatever it is Heather sickeningly wears), she'll make sure she tells her about it because she knows how hard it is to find -2 size clothes.
At Christmas the house is always festive and warm and cozy because mom spends days putting up decorations for us, even though she vows every year she's not going to do it again. I mean, she even still puts up the lights on the balcony - even after the year the window she had to climb through shut on her and she had to jump off the roof onto the little Japanese Maple below because nobody in the house knew she was trapped out there. And every Thanksgiving she puts up with a turkey that looks like it has the mange because her kids love to eat all the skin off of it as soon as it comes out of the oven. And every 4th of July, "Do you know how much it costs to buy all those ingredients for homemade ice cream??" (That's her talking) But yes...she does it anyway. Even after the year we all complained because she changed the recipe...she still makes it for us. (But Thank God she went back to the old recipe!)
She spent all of Adam's high school career sitting through snow, sleet, hail, rain, wind, and burning sun to watch him play ball (sometimes all at the same game!) She'll give Heather a call at work to tell her to make sure to stop by on her way home because she's got sauerkraut and cornbread cooking. On nights when I have to work until 6 or 7 or 8, she'll take the time to make me some eggs and bacon and toast...even though she just got the kitchen cleaned up from her own supper.
She's not afraid to dress up like a gypsy and run around the backyard with a tambourine in her hand shouting "Hooray for Bongo!!" at the top of her lungs to entertain friends who have helped her take care of the house since Dad passed. Or host a hoe-down for son's 16th birthday with all his friends. Or take the time to make him a leprechaun suit (complete with special little shoes) so he could be the Lucky Charms guy for "cereal night" at the local basketball game. Of course, there's also the issue of when she made the pumpkin costume for me for Halloween that I could barely move around in, but I'm not sure that one really works in her favor, so I'll let that one alone...
I could go on and on. But in the end, what it boils down to is this...
A lot of people dream and fantasize about meeting some great person someday. Maybe a famous ball player, singer or celebrity that they consider to be their hero.
I don't have to dream about that. I know my hero personally already.
I call her "Mom".
(Love you Mooomaw!)
There's a million little reasons why she's the best mom ever. Like...when she makes me a skirt, she always puts pockets in it...even if the pattern doesn't call for pockets...because she knows I like pockets. And when she makes Potato Soup that she knows Adam would rather die than eat, she always makes sure she has a can of Chicken Noodle just for him. And when she sees a blouse in a size -2 (or whatever it is Heather sickeningly wears), she'll make sure she tells her about it because she knows how hard it is to find -2 size clothes.
At Christmas the house is always festive and warm and cozy because mom spends days putting up decorations for us, even though she vows every year she's not going to do it again. I mean, she even still puts up the lights on the balcony - even after the year the window she had to climb through shut on her and she had to jump off the roof onto the little Japanese Maple below because nobody in the house knew she was trapped out there. And every Thanksgiving she puts up with a turkey that looks like it has the mange because her kids love to eat all the skin off of it as soon as it comes out of the oven. And every 4th of July, "Do you know how much it costs to buy all those ingredients for homemade ice cream??" (That's her talking) But yes...she does it anyway. Even after the year we all complained because she changed the recipe...she still makes it for us. (But Thank God she went back to the old recipe!)
She spent all of Adam's high school career sitting through snow, sleet, hail, rain, wind, and burning sun to watch him play ball (sometimes all at the same game!) She'll give Heather a call at work to tell her to make sure to stop by on her way home because she's got sauerkraut and cornbread cooking. On nights when I have to work until 6 or 7 or 8, she'll take the time to make me some eggs and bacon and toast...even though she just got the kitchen cleaned up from her own supper.
She's not afraid to dress up like a gypsy and run around the backyard with a tambourine in her hand shouting "Hooray for Bongo!!" at the top of her lungs to entertain friends who have helped her take care of the house since Dad passed. Or host a hoe-down for son's 16th birthday with all his friends. Or take the time to make him a leprechaun suit (complete with special little shoes) so he could be the Lucky Charms guy for "cereal night" at the local basketball game. Of course, there's also the issue of when she made the pumpkin costume for me for Halloween that I could barely move around in, but I'm not sure that one really works in her favor, so I'll let that one alone...
I could go on and on. But in the end, what it boils down to is this...
A lot of people dream and fantasize about meeting some great person someday. Maybe a famous ball player, singer or celebrity that they consider to be their hero.
I don't have to dream about that. I know my hero personally already.
I call her "Mom".
(Love you Mooomaw!)
Saturday, May 9, 2009
15 Years
Today is my 15 year anniversary. No...I've not been secretly married all this time. It's 15 years at my current job. I work at an insurance company. I don't usually say that out loud in public though, because I have found that people sometimes have varied reactions when you say you work in the insurance industry. And a lot of times it's not really a favorable reaction. It's a lot of fun when somebody starts yelling at you at the local football game because their insurance company (with whom you are not even affiliated) denied one of their claims. I guess insurance is one of those things that people just like to be mad about a lot. But really, we're not bad people. So stop taking it out on me!
I do understand to some extent though, as I've had run-ins with insurance companies too. And mom just loves 'em. She literally told an insurance agent once that she thought all insurance people should be shot and hung from the nearest tree. This was even with me sitting right beside her. Of course, that agent should have been shot and hung...he was a scam artist. But still...
But anyway, the industry has been good to me for the last 15 years, and I'm thankful for the steady (though completely overwhelming at the present time) work it has provided.
And I'm not even thinking about how this is only the halfway point of my career.
Uughh....
I do understand to some extent though, as I've had run-ins with insurance companies too. And mom just loves 'em. She literally told an insurance agent once that she thought all insurance people should be shot and hung from the nearest tree. This was even with me sitting right beside her. Of course, that agent should have been shot and hung...he was a scam artist. But still...
But anyway, the industry has been good to me for the last 15 years, and I'm thankful for the steady (though completely overwhelming at the present time) work it has provided.
And I'm not even thinking about how this is only the halfway point of my career.
Uughh....
Friday, May 8, 2009
25 Things...
People are funny. Really, we all have these little quirks that we may or may not want anyone else to know about...the things that make us unique. I like finding out these little gems about people from time to time. Someone sent me a message the other day asking to "list 25 things about yourself". Hmmm....interesting. Let's see what you may or may not know about me...
1. My middle name came from the Mignon Towers at Morehead University, which were named after the Dean's wife at that time. (And please, the "g" is silent!)
2. I once fell off of the roof of a house and caught an electrical wire with one hand on my way down to the concrete patio below. (Thank God I was much smaller then and the wire held!)
3. Other life moments when I didn't quite escape without a scratch: fell out of a moving car (cut up my knee a bit), bitten by a dog (twice - both times on the face), ran into the back of a parked car on my bike (I don't even want to think about that pain again), and fractured my arm doing a cartwheel (back when I still COULD do a cartwheel!)
4. I can tolerate a great deal of pain because I so despise going to the doctor and/or dentist. (I even think I might be phobic.) I mean, I went for about 3 or 4 weeks with a kidney stone before I finally broke down and went to the hospital. Ironically, the thought of pricking my own finger test my blood sugar makes me nearly pass out and I can't hardly do it.
5. My Dad passed away 7 1/2 years ago. I still miss him more than I can stand.
6. I have never met Mr. Right, but really am OK with being a single. (Though the older I get, the more desperate everyone else seems to get for me to hook up with somebody!)
7. I can go to sleep with my arm stretched straight up in the air. I have even woke up in the middle of the night with it like that. (Which is a bit freaky, I must admit...)
8. I have never had a drink of alcohol. Nor have I ever wanted one.
9. Shelby, Ohio has always been my home. And I don't regret that one bit.
10. I once got to sing in St. Patrick's Cathedral in New York City. (With my high school choir)
11. I would love to write a book.
12. 2 of my most favorite places to visit - Ogunquit, Maine (you've got to go walk the Marginal Way once!), and Washington DC. But really, I love to travel most anywhere...it's a great big world out there.
13. I play the piano (mainly by ear, though I can read music), and a little guitar. I feel like God has given me the ability to communicate through music...and I absolutely love doing it.
14. I am a Steelers fan because of my third grade teacher, Miss Keib. My brother is a Steelers fan because of me!
15. Football is my favorite sport. Baseball is probably second. (My Dad played ball in high school with Don Gullet, who was a pitcher for the Cincinnati Reds...which is not a fact about me but kind of interesting anyway!)
16. I have a specific way I like to eat my spaghetti. Noodles on bottom, sauce over them, a piece of American cheese on top of the sauce, then crackers covering the whole thing. A piece of garlic toast to swipe it up and a glass of ice cold milk to wash down is awesome!
17. I almost always cry when I cast my vote on election day. I just get very emotional at the realization of what a great honor it is to live in this country.
18. I really wish I were better at reaching out and keeping up with family and friends.
19. I'm not always as self-confident as I may appear to be.
20. One of my best friends now is the wife of one of my former high school teachers. (Who would have thought?!!!)
21. Even though I have always lived in Northern Ohio, a lot of people think I have a southern accent. (I don't get this one. I mean goodness, they should hear some of my family talk!)
22. If I could have attended any significant historic event that occured during my lifetime, I would have loved to have been there to see the Berlin Wall come down.
23. I always have Boston Creme Pie on my birthday
24. As I'm getting older, I am developing a stronger and stronger allergy to fruit. (Which I think is just bizarre...)
25. I greatly admire people who stand on what is right...regardless of the fallout.
So..what 25 things may I not know about you??
1. My middle name came from the Mignon Towers at Morehead University, which were named after the Dean's wife at that time. (And please, the "g" is silent!)
2. I once fell off of the roof of a house and caught an electrical wire with one hand on my way down to the concrete patio below. (Thank God I was much smaller then and the wire held!)
3. Other life moments when I didn't quite escape without a scratch: fell out of a moving car (cut up my knee a bit), bitten by a dog (twice - both times on the face), ran into the back of a parked car on my bike (I don't even want to think about that pain again), and fractured my arm doing a cartwheel (back when I still COULD do a cartwheel!)
4. I can tolerate a great deal of pain because I so despise going to the doctor and/or dentist. (I even think I might be phobic.) I mean, I went for about 3 or 4 weeks with a kidney stone before I finally broke down and went to the hospital. Ironically, the thought of pricking my own finger test my blood sugar makes me nearly pass out and I can't hardly do it.
5. My Dad passed away 7 1/2 years ago. I still miss him more than I can stand.
6. I have never met Mr. Right, but really am OK with being a single. (Though the older I get, the more desperate everyone else seems to get for me to hook up with somebody!)
7. I can go to sleep with my arm stretched straight up in the air. I have even woke up in the middle of the night with it like that. (Which is a bit freaky, I must admit...)
8. I have never had a drink of alcohol. Nor have I ever wanted one.
9. Shelby, Ohio has always been my home. And I don't regret that one bit.
10. I once got to sing in St. Patrick's Cathedral in New York City. (With my high school choir)
11. I would love to write a book.
12. 2 of my most favorite places to visit - Ogunquit, Maine (you've got to go walk the Marginal Way once!), and Washington DC. But really, I love to travel most anywhere...it's a great big world out there.
13. I play the piano (mainly by ear, though I can read music), and a little guitar. I feel like God has given me the ability to communicate through music...and I absolutely love doing it.
14. I am a Steelers fan because of my third grade teacher, Miss Keib. My brother is a Steelers fan because of me!
15. Football is my favorite sport. Baseball is probably second. (My Dad played ball in high school with Don Gullet, who was a pitcher for the Cincinnati Reds...which is not a fact about me but kind of interesting anyway!)
16. I have a specific way I like to eat my spaghetti. Noodles on bottom, sauce over them, a piece of American cheese on top of the sauce, then crackers covering the whole thing. A piece of garlic toast to swipe it up and a glass of ice cold milk to wash down is awesome!
17. I almost always cry when I cast my vote on election day. I just get very emotional at the realization of what a great honor it is to live in this country.
18. I really wish I were better at reaching out and keeping up with family and friends.
19. I'm not always as self-confident as I may appear to be.
20. One of my best friends now is the wife of one of my former high school teachers. (Who would have thought?!!!)
21. Even though I have always lived in Northern Ohio, a lot of people think I have a southern accent. (I don't get this one. I mean goodness, they should hear some of my family talk!)
22. If I could have attended any significant historic event that occured during my lifetime, I would have loved to have been there to see the Berlin Wall come down.
23. I always have Boston Creme Pie on my birthday
24. As I'm getting older, I am developing a stronger and stronger allergy to fruit. (Which I think is just bizarre...)
25. I greatly admire people who stand on what is right...regardless of the fallout.
So..what 25 things may I not know about you??
Thursday, May 7, 2009
Take Two Pills and Call Me Crazy...
I'm suffering from blog withdrawal. I've had so much going on at work that I'm just exhausted when I get home and can't get the creative writing juices flowing. That, and I've been sick.
Every year about this time the same thing happens. All I have to do is look at a tree with little white buds on it, and the head closes up tighter than a bank on Sunday. Can't breathe. Some little tiny person starts pounding little tiny hammers all across my sinus cavities. My eyes alternate between burning like a match and watering like a faucet. My head screams in rebellion at anything even resembling light. Yes my friends, it is time for seasonal allergies. And it is miserable.
So, this year I finally broke down and went to the doctor for it. Yes, you read that right. The doctor. In case you're not aware of my feelings about doctors, let me be clear. I don't like 'em. At all. So on my way to the doctor I'm thinking "I can't believe I'm actually going to the doctor" and trying to psychoanalyze myself as to why I despise doctors so much. I think I've figured it out.
They do dumb things to me, give me bad advice, then take my money.
You scoff at this? Read on, dear friends...
Let's see, there was the time that I had a horrible cough for about a month or longer. It was really deep, and wasn't making any attempt to move out and leave me alone. So I go to the doctor. This was a female named Dr. Milambiling. That name alone should have clued me into the fact that this was not going to end well. So she comes into the room and asks me what's wrong. OK...I'm sitting there barking like a seal with every word I try to say, but she's not sure what's wrong. So she walks to me with this glaring look and listens to my lungs. Then she sits down and starts writing. And writing. And writing. Finally, I bark out "Are you gonna give me something for this??" She then looks at me and says.."How long do you smoke??" WHAT??? "I don't smoke" was my not so patient reply. "Mm Hmm" she says with a "I don't believe you" smirk. Then she says..."I give you prescription, but don't fill it." I looked at her and said "Excuse me??" "Don't fill...just take cough medicine." Honestly. That's what she told me. I said "Thank you very much", took the prescription and got it filled. It's a wonder it even cleared up the problem. The woman was insane. And that marked the last trip to Mrs. Milambiling.
A while later I come up with another problem. Tore my toenail off. Have you ever done that? It's really not a lot of fun. Well, as you might expect, my toe got infected. And it wouldn't clear up. So...it's either go to the doctor or amputate. I relent. End up with MR. Milambiling this time. So he comes in and asks what's wrong. I take off my shoe and tell him, "I think my toe is infected." He kneels down on the floor in front of me and stares at my toe. And stares. And stares. If you want to be a part of something kind of creepy, have a perfect stranger kneel in front of you and stare at your toe for an extended period of time. Really. It'll keep you up at night thinking about it afterward. **shudder**
So anyway, I finally say - "Uhm..are you going to do something here?" He looks up at me and says "You have an infected toe." I reply "I know I have an infected toe." He says "You know this?" Good Night. What is wrong with this dude?? I say "Yes, I believe I just told you I have an infected toe." He then says "See, you have too much toenail missing." Then he takes an ink pen out of his pocket and (I promise with all of my soul that I am not making this up) DRAWS on my toe to "show me" where the toenail is supposed to be. It's a thousand wonders I didn't kick him in the chin. I said "Excuse me...did you just draw on my toe??!" Apparently the answer to that was yes. And then he has the audacity to look at me like I'm the one with the problem. And that marked the last trip to MR. Milambiling.
Then there was the doctor I went to because of another problem I was having that I will not elaborate on. (Trust me, that is something you'll want to be thankful for.) So, she comes in and starts asking a million questions. Then she says.."Are you depressed?" ?????? "Well, not really", I respond. "Are you sure?" "Prrretty sure" "It's OK to admit you know. Here, let me give you a pamphlet about suicide..." OK - what kind of psycho have I picked out this time? I looked at her and said "I don't need a pamphlet about suicide, but I might need one about murder in a minute." (OK, I didn't say that. But I was thinking it.) So then she asks something about my weight, and I tell, "Yeah, I know I need to lose weight." Her response? "Oh no - I'm not being critical about your weight. I wouldn't worry about that. It's just your body's way of telling you this is the size you need to be." OK, first of all..that didn't even make sense. I tell her..."Listen lady, I ain't no doctor, but I know I need to lose weight!" She seemed shocked. And that marked the last trip to psycho suicide doctor.
I don't think any beats stickman though. Had a bump on my gum..was really weird. The only thing I hate worse than a doctor is a dentist, so I went to the doctor. He looks at it, pushes on it, prods around a little then asks "Does it hurt?" I said "No, it doesn't hurt at all." "Hmm"..he says..."How long's it been there?" Well, while I'm answering he reaches down and gets one of those tongue depressor sticks and pushes on it a little. Then, suddenly, he rears the stick back and JABS it. Seeing how I was completely not expecting that..and that it HURT, I yelped! He looks at me in surprise and says..."I thought you said it didn't hurt?!" To which I replied "Well I've Never Jabbed It With A Stick Before!!!" Yeah, I think that was about the last time I went to that dude too.
So, I have decided that it's just easier to live with the little hammers on my face and sucking up Sinex like it's going out of style. I might be miserable, but at least I won't be locked up because I've strangled my practitioner. That would be really depressing.
Of course, if it gets too bad, at least I have that pamphlet to fall back on...
Every year about this time the same thing happens. All I have to do is look at a tree with little white buds on it, and the head closes up tighter than a bank on Sunday. Can't breathe. Some little tiny person starts pounding little tiny hammers all across my sinus cavities. My eyes alternate between burning like a match and watering like a faucet. My head screams in rebellion at anything even resembling light. Yes my friends, it is time for seasonal allergies. And it is miserable.
So, this year I finally broke down and went to the doctor for it. Yes, you read that right. The doctor. In case you're not aware of my feelings about doctors, let me be clear. I don't like 'em. At all. So on my way to the doctor I'm thinking "I can't believe I'm actually going to the doctor" and trying to psychoanalyze myself as to why I despise doctors so much. I think I've figured it out.
They do dumb things to me, give me bad advice, then take my money.
You scoff at this? Read on, dear friends...
Let's see, there was the time that I had a horrible cough for about a month or longer. It was really deep, and wasn't making any attempt to move out and leave me alone. So I go to the doctor. This was a female named Dr. Milambiling. That name alone should have clued me into the fact that this was not going to end well. So she comes into the room and asks me what's wrong. OK...I'm sitting there barking like a seal with every word I try to say, but she's not sure what's wrong. So she walks to me with this glaring look and listens to my lungs. Then she sits down and starts writing. And writing. And writing. Finally, I bark out "Are you gonna give me something for this??" She then looks at me and says.."How long do you smoke??" WHAT??? "I don't smoke" was my not so patient reply. "Mm Hmm" she says with a "I don't believe you" smirk. Then she says..."I give you prescription, but don't fill it." I looked at her and said "Excuse me??" "Don't fill...just take cough medicine." Honestly. That's what she told me. I said "Thank you very much", took the prescription and got it filled. It's a wonder it even cleared up the problem. The woman was insane. And that marked the last trip to Mrs. Milambiling.
A while later I come up with another problem. Tore my toenail off. Have you ever done that? It's really not a lot of fun. Well, as you might expect, my toe got infected. And it wouldn't clear up. So...it's either go to the doctor or amputate. I relent. End up with MR. Milambiling this time. So he comes in and asks what's wrong. I take off my shoe and tell him, "I think my toe is infected." He kneels down on the floor in front of me and stares at my toe. And stares. And stares. If you want to be a part of something kind of creepy, have a perfect stranger kneel in front of you and stare at your toe for an extended period of time. Really. It'll keep you up at night thinking about it afterward. **shudder**
So anyway, I finally say - "Uhm..are you going to do something here?" He looks up at me and says "You have an infected toe." I reply "I know I have an infected toe." He says "You know this?" Good Night. What is wrong with this dude?? I say "Yes, I believe I just told you I have an infected toe." He then says "See, you have too much toenail missing." Then he takes an ink pen out of his pocket and (I promise with all of my soul that I am not making this up) DRAWS on my toe to "show me" where the toenail is supposed to be. It's a thousand wonders I didn't kick him in the chin. I said "Excuse me...did you just draw on my toe??!" Apparently the answer to that was yes. And then he has the audacity to look at me like I'm the one with the problem. And that marked the last trip to MR. Milambiling.
Then there was the doctor I went to because of another problem I was having that I will not elaborate on. (Trust me, that is something you'll want to be thankful for.) So, she comes in and starts asking a million questions. Then she says.."Are you depressed?" ?????? "Well, not really", I respond. "Are you sure?" "Prrretty sure" "It's OK to admit you know. Here, let me give you a pamphlet about suicide..." OK - what kind of psycho have I picked out this time? I looked at her and said "I don't need a pamphlet about suicide, but I might need one about murder in a minute." (OK, I didn't say that. But I was thinking it.) So then she asks something about my weight, and I tell, "Yeah, I know I need to lose weight." Her response? "Oh no - I'm not being critical about your weight. I wouldn't worry about that. It's just your body's way of telling you this is the size you need to be." OK, first of all..that didn't even make sense. I tell her..."Listen lady, I ain't no doctor, but I know I need to lose weight!" She seemed shocked. And that marked the last trip to psycho suicide doctor.
I don't think any beats stickman though. Had a bump on my gum..was really weird. The only thing I hate worse than a doctor is a dentist, so I went to the doctor. He looks at it, pushes on it, prods around a little then asks "Does it hurt?" I said "No, it doesn't hurt at all." "Hmm"..he says..."How long's it been there?" Well, while I'm answering he reaches down and gets one of those tongue depressor sticks and pushes on it a little. Then, suddenly, he rears the stick back and JABS it. Seeing how I was completely not expecting that..and that it HURT, I yelped! He looks at me in surprise and says..."I thought you said it didn't hurt?!" To which I replied "Well I've Never Jabbed It With A Stick Before!!!" Yeah, I think that was about the last time I went to that dude too.
So, I have decided that it's just easier to live with the little hammers on my face and sucking up Sinex like it's going out of style. I might be miserable, but at least I won't be locked up because I've strangled my practitioner. That would be really depressing.
Of course, if it gets too bad, at least I have that pamphlet to fall back on...
Sunday, May 3, 2009
Give The Woman an Ice Cream Cone...
Sometimes the simplest things in life are the hardest to come by. It's an odd phenomenon really. Last night after we got back from Akron and dropped Hezzo off at her place, we stopped into our local Discount Drug Mart (it saves you the run-around!) cause Ma wanted to get some "junk" to snack on. So she heads back to what apparently is the "junk" aisle to get some of her beloved Cheese Popcorn. (Snyder's brand only, of course.) Alas....they have none.
So we head over to the ice cream aisle (which is also a "junk" aisle, even though it tries to disguise the fact by hanging out in a different part of the store.) Looking for some good low-carb ice cream. Alas....they have none. (Oooh...Dejavu)
OK, not to worry. We will just run through McDonald's to grab a yogurt-cone. So we pull in and to our dismay there are 783 other cars in line. (well....that might be a slight exaggeration) Mom's immediate reaction is "What are all these lousy people doing out here?! They need to be home!" I'm not sure if she realizes that using the same logic would also make us lousy people who should be home...but I let that point go. Anyway, we decide we are not waiting in line and head on home, ice cream-less. 'Twas rather sad.
So today after church we have a baptizing right after service. Since we go out into the middle of nowhere and baptize in a creek, there is no time to get food. After that there is an open house I want to check out, but it ends at 2. It's 1:30. So, we again forgo food to go check it out first. Finally we head for some grub. Oh wait - there's another open house! Let's stop in! Except...it doesn't start until 2. It's 1:52. OK..drive around for 8 minutes. Hey! There's another open house. Oh...this dude is just closing up. But he'll open it again to show us. (Glad he did, really liked the house!). OK - now back to the other one. Now it's 2:30 or later...and we are probably literally going to die if we don't get food soon. (Well, maybe not really literally, but it sure feels that way.) Wendy's, here we come.
After we eat, Ma wants dessert. Guess what she's got a hankerin' for? Back to McD's we go. Thankfully all of the "lousy people" from last night have gone home where they belong, so we zip right into the drive-thru. The little voice box takes the order and says "$2 at first window please." So Ma dutifully pulls up to the first window. The girl is stepped back from the window a little bit opening a box or something, so she gives mom the "wait one minute" motion with her finger. So mom, upon seeing this, hits the gas to zooms forward. What in the world??? So I'm trying to say "She wanted you to wait" when I suddenly see the little McD money-taker's head fling out the window and she's yelling "No, no...come back!!" So Mom then stops the car, whips it in reverse and zooms back. Which would have been much less scary if she would have actually looked in the rear view mirror first. Thank God no one was back there. Apparently she thought money-taker was waving her forward instead of telling her to stay put. So Mom gives her a $10 and money-taker gives her $8 back, though she asks mom to verify it after she handed it to her because she thought she might have given her two $5's instead of one. (She didn't..we were good.) So then we pull away from the window and mom looks at me and says..."What in the world was wrong with her??"
Wrong with her?? I'm sorry dear mother...I don't think this one lays on Ms. money-taker. As I'm pointing this out, Ma starts covering her nose with her sweater because the car in front of us is leaking more gas fumes than it actually is running on. And she starts yelling again because these lousy people (we have a lot of lousy people in our town, in case you didn't notice) ordered too much food and if it had been her at the window they would have made her pull forward! That's good info to have, but not much I can do about it. So...I assure her that they will not be there all day, though mom is sure they're going to "gas her to death" before they pull away. Well, I'm happy to say that no one died from noxious fumes, and we did FINALLY get to enjoy a delicious McDonald's yogurt-ice cream cone.
All is right with the world again.
At least until the next time...
:) (luv ya Ma!)
So we head over to the ice cream aisle (which is also a "junk" aisle, even though it tries to disguise the fact by hanging out in a different part of the store.) Looking for some good low-carb ice cream. Alas....they have none. (Oooh...Dejavu)
OK, not to worry. We will just run through McDonald's to grab a yogurt-cone. So we pull in and to our dismay there are 783 other cars in line. (well....that might be a slight exaggeration) Mom's immediate reaction is "What are all these lousy people doing out here?! They need to be home!" I'm not sure if she realizes that using the same logic would also make us lousy people who should be home...but I let that point go. Anyway, we decide we are not waiting in line and head on home, ice cream-less. 'Twas rather sad.
So today after church we have a baptizing right after service. Since we go out into the middle of nowhere and baptize in a creek, there is no time to get food. After that there is an open house I want to check out, but it ends at 2. It's 1:30. So, we again forgo food to go check it out first. Finally we head for some grub. Oh wait - there's another open house! Let's stop in! Except...it doesn't start until 2. It's 1:52. OK..drive around for 8 minutes. Hey! There's another open house. Oh...this dude is just closing up. But he'll open it again to show us. (Glad he did, really liked the house!). OK - now back to the other one. Now it's 2:30 or later...and we are probably literally going to die if we don't get food soon. (Well, maybe not really literally, but it sure feels that way.) Wendy's, here we come.
After we eat, Ma wants dessert. Guess what she's got a hankerin' for? Back to McD's we go. Thankfully all of the "lousy people" from last night have gone home where they belong, so we zip right into the drive-thru. The little voice box takes the order and says "$2 at first window please." So Ma dutifully pulls up to the first window. The girl is stepped back from the window a little bit opening a box or something, so she gives mom the "wait one minute" motion with her finger. So mom, upon seeing this, hits the gas to zooms forward. What in the world??? So I'm trying to say "She wanted you to wait" when I suddenly see the little McD money-taker's head fling out the window and she's yelling "No, no...come back!!" So Mom then stops the car, whips it in reverse and zooms back. Which would have been much less scary if she would have actually looked in the rear view mirror first. Thank God no one was back there. Apparently she thought money-taker was waving her forward instead of telling her to stay put. So Mom gives her a $10 and money-taker gives her $8 back, though she asks mom to verify it after she handed it to her because she thought she might have given her two $5's instead of one. (She didn't..we were good.) So then we pull away from the window and mom looks at me and says..."What in the world was wrong with her??"
Wrong with her?? I'm sorry dear mother...I don't think this one lays on Ms. money-taker. As I'm pointing this out, Ma starts covering her nose with her sweater because the car in front of us is leaking more gas fumes than it actually is running on. And she starts yelling again because these lousy people (we have a lot of lousy people in our town, in case you didn't notice) ordered too much food and if it had been her at the window they would have made her pull forward! That's good info to have, but not much I can do about it. So...I assure her that they will not be there all day, though mom is sure they're going to "gas her to death" before they pull away. Well, I'm happy to say that no one died from noxious fumes, and we did FINALLY get to enjoy a delicious McDonald's yogurt-ice cream cone.
All is right with the world again.
At least until the next time...
:) (luv ya Ma!)
Saturday, May 2, 2009
A Good Day
I'm sitting here tonight watching the Celtics/Bulls thinking about the day. Well, I'm also thinking "GO CELTICS". Have never been a big fan of the Bulls. Adam is rooting for the Bulls. He still has much to learn. So I say....here's to the Irish tonight.
So...this has been a busy day. Got up and did
laundry and cleaned a little. (Thrilling.) Then off to DrugMart to get some prescriptions refilled. I'm out of the high blood pressure meds, so I better get those filled before the work week starts again. Otherwise...well, that could get pretty ugly.
Now off to our Mother-Daughter Tea at the Church. Don't we lo
ok pretty in front of the flower garden? Most of those flowers came from Mom's. Yes, she's not just the Drama Queen, she is also the "whatever you need to have a great party" Queen. We had a grand old time drinking our tea and eating our cucumber sandwiches and scones with jam and cream. We felt all...."Britishy".
ok pretty in front of the flower garden? Most of those flowers came from Mom's. Yes, she's not just the Drama Queen, she is also the "whatever you need to have a great party" Queen. We had a grand old time drinking our tea and eating our cucumber sandwiches and scones with jam and cream. We felt all...."Britishy".We did not stay for the entire tea as today is Adam's birthday! No longer a teenager....He is now 20 years old!! So hard to believe! We drive up to Akron to take him to dinner. He and 3 other guys have decided to rent a house next year, so we basically all contributed to his "I need a mattress" fund for his bi
rthday. I did get him some beef jerky so he'd have something to open. (Jim Beam...isn't that nice. It's all they had!)
rthday. I did get him some beef jerky so he'd have something to open. (Jim Beam...isn't that nice. It's all they had!)We all had expensive but lovely steaks at Longhorn (except mom, who opted for chicken). We don't stay long as next week is his finals and he's doing some studying. (At least that's what he's telling us!) So we go into the dorm just long enough for him to load up a cartload of his junk to drag back home with us. He will be coming home for the Summer this Friday. One year of school down already!
So now here I sit...unwinding from the day. Ahhh....life is good.
Friday, May 1, 2009
It's Not My Fault...
I did something I hate today.
I killed a bird.
It wasn't my fault. The thing just swooped in like a Japanese Kamikaze fighter and landed smack dab on my grill before I even saw it. Why do birds do that? My theory is that they're getting lazier. No, I'm not kidding. There was a day when birds never swooped down on me like that. OK, they might drift into the windshield...but the grill?! Come on Tweety - get some air under those wings! And Dad would always tell us not to worry about birds in the road because they'll get out of the way before you hit them. HA! The ones around here anymore just stand there and stare you down...like they're DARING you to hit them! So either they're getting mighty lazy or mighty attitudy. Either way, they're gonna die if they don't knock it off!
Now compare them to the squirrels. See, I really feel bad when I hit the squirrels. Because they don't have the attitude. They are just schizophrenic. Seriously, have you ever watched a squirrel crossing the road? They can be running in a simple straight line...would be perfectly fine if they'd just keep going. But no...the minute they hear a car, what do they do? Stop. Stand up. Look panicked. Turn to run the other direction. No, that's no good. Turn the other way. No...stop....no...run faster...no...stop...turn around....stop...go..wait...go...nnnooooooo....JUST TAKE A BIG LEAP AND JUMP AS FAR AS YOU CAN!!!! By this time you've either given yourself whiplash trying to avoid them...or turned them into a little squirrel pancake. Neither option is very desirable.
Of course it's never good when you hit someone's family pet. Really...let's not even go there, as I still harbor very ill feelings for the people who killed our little dog Molly. Of course that could also be because they were driving a tour bus 80 miles an hour down a small residential street, and a little toy poodle stands very little chance against a tour bus going 80 miles an hour. Very little. Dumb people.
My personal worst though was the deer. See, they're most generally to blame for their own deaths too. I mean, we put up crossing signs for them at specific spots along the road, but do they ever cross there? NOOOO. Little renegades. Well, see what they get. It's lovely really...there's nothing like having a big brown, hoofed animal flying into your windshield. At 12 midnight. When you're all by yourself on a country road. I call the police, then call mom. I'm trying to tell her what happened, and I can hear dad in the background hollering "What happened, what happened??" So she's trying to tell him while I try to tell her...which, well you can imagine how that was going. Then I can hear dad switching over to "Tell her to lock her doors! Tell her to lock her doors! Does she have her doors locked? Tell her to lock her doors!". Finally I shout into the phone - "Mom - tell Dad I DO have my doors locked!" That must have been his biggest concern, because I didn't hear him again. He never asked if I was hurt...as long as I had taken care of the essential door locking. Ah, the things that weigh on a father's mind.
At one point in my life I was killing an animal every time I got into the car. It was weird...they just kept running out in front of me. And I kept hitting them. I'd go into work all droopy and tell them, "Well, I killed a (rabbit, bird, squirrel) again this morning. So one day I go in and they've taken the rabbit head from our Company's Easter Bunny costume and put it under one of the legs of my chair, and changed my screen saver to read "THUMP, THUMP".
HA HA - Very funny. Bunch of smart alecks.
So anyway...I do try to avoid them, but sometimes it just happens. So please beware all you little schizophrenic woodland creatures that may or may not have an attitude or are feeling lazy today and don't want to cross at the crossing sign like you're supposed too...
You're taking your life into your own hands!
(uh...I mean..paws. Or hooves. Or wings. Or...whatever....)
I killed a bird.
It wasn't my fault. The thing just swooped in like a Japanese Kamikaze fighter and landed smack dab on my grill before I even saw it. Why do birds do that? My theory is that they're getting lazier. No, I'm not kidding. There was a day when birds never swooped down on me like that. OK, they might drift into the windshield...but the grill?! Come on Tweety - get some air under those wings! And Dad would always tell us not to worry about birds in the road because they'll get out of the way before you hit them. HA! The ones around here anymore just stand there and stare you down...like they're DARING you to hit them! So either they're getting mighty lazy or mighty attitudy. Either way, they're gonna die if they don't knock it off!
Now compare them to the squirrels. See, I really feel bad when I hit the squirrels. Because they don't have the attitude. They are just schizophrenic. Seriously, have you ever watched a squirrel crossing the road? They can be running in a simple straight line...would be perfectly fine if they'd just keep going. But no...the minute they hear a car, what do they do? Stop. Stand up. Look panicked. Turn to run the other direction. No, that's no good. Turn the other way. No...stop....no...run faster...no...stop...turn around....stop...go..wait...go...nnnooooooo....JUST TAKE A BIG LEAP AND JUMP AS FAR AS YOU CAN!!!! By this time you've either given yourself whiplash trying to avoid them...or turned them into a little squirrel pancake. Neither option is very desirable.
Of course it's never good when you hit someone's family pet. Really...let's not even go there, as I still harbor very ill feelings for the people who killed our little dog Molly. Of course that could also be because they were driving a tour bus 80 miles an hour down a small residential street, and a little toy poodle stands very little chance against a tour bus going 80 miles an hour. Very little. Dumb people.
My personal worst though was the deer. See, they're most generally to blame for their own deaths too. I mean, we put up crossing signs for them at specific spots along the road, but do they ever cross there? NOOOO. Little renegades. Well, see what they get. It's lovely really...there's nothing like having a big brown, hoofed animal flying into your windshield. At 12 midnight. When you're all by yourself on a country road. I call the police, then call mom. I'm trying to tell her what happened, and I can hear dad in the background hollering "What happened, what happened??" So she's trying to tell him while I try to tell her...which, well you can imagine how that was going. Then I can hear dad switching over to "Tell her to lock her doors! Tell her to lock her doors! Does she have her doors locked? Tell her to lock her doors!". Finally I shout into the phone - "Mom - tell Dad I DO have my doors locked!" That must have been his biggest concern, because I didn't hear him again. He never asked if I was hurt...as long as I had taken care of the essential door locking. Ah, the things that weigh on a father's mind.
At one point in my life I was killing an animal every time I got into the car. It was weird...they just kept running out in front of me. And I kept hitting them. I'd go into work all droopy and tell them, "Well, I killed a (rabbit, bird, squirrel) again this morning. So one day I go in and they've taken the rabbit head from our Company's Easter Bunny costume and put it under one of the legs of my chair, and changed my screen saver to read "THUMP, THUMP".
HA HA - Very funny. Bunch of smart alecks.
So anyway...I do try to avoid them, but sometimes it just happens. So please beware all you little schizophrenic woodland creatures that may or may not have an attitude or are feeling lazy today and don't want to cross at the crossing sign like you're supposed too...
You're taking your life into your own hands!
(uh...I mean..paws. Or hooves. Or wings. Or...whatever....)
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