Sorry I’ve not updated my blog in awhile, what with Christmas preparations and all.
Sunday, NW Indiana was hit with biting cold weather and strong winds, knocking out our power. My house is pretty much an ice castle. Ok, that’s a stretch, it’s an ice- two story. With icy trees and ice covered driveway and icicles dripping off everything it could.
Our little Peanut granddaughter (now 10 months old) is in the hospital with bronchitis and respiratory problems. She’s not eating or drinking, so she’s got to have IV fluids to keep hydrated. We came home from visiting her in the hospital and our power was out! So, from about 3:00 p.m until 10:00 p.m. we shivered and shook under blankets huddled up to the fireplace with Casper stretched across our laps. DARN, it was cold! Today’s forecast is supposed to be a little bit warmer, although, seriously, I swear it feels colder to me.
The deep cold penetrates under your skin and through to your bones. It is very hard to stay warm when the temp is 25 degrees below zero, wind chill factor. It reminds me of all the homeless. With this economy, there are probably more homeless each day and probably less and less shelters that can house them. Let’s all do our best this season to think of those less fortunate than ourselves and contribute in anyway that we can.
Happy Holidays.
Monday, December 22, 2008
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
This Magic Moment
It happened that the tickets were purchased over a year ago. The original intent was that it be a Christmas present from my husband, for a magical night. He put a lot of thought and effort into bidding on the tickets on the internet, watching the price carefully. They weren’t some $50 tickets, these were good seats.
The concert was scheduled, unfortunately, for the same day as the nation was electing Barack Obama into the highest office in the country – a landmark day – one that warranted a huge celebration in the depth of the city that is Chicago. The same night as Celine Dion got a tickle in her throat? Hmmmmm.
So last evening, my husband and I took the day off work, wanting to spend the afternoon in Chicago shopping along the Mag Mile and grabbing a nice dinner in Little Italy, then attending the re-scheduled concert he so wanted to share with me.
And then it started to snow. We left our home at 2:00 p.m., for the trek which is normally 45 minutes to an hours’ drive. We skipped the shopping as the traffic was bumper to bumper in the blinding weather conditions, barely making the show time at 8:00 p.m. Whew! That Celine can put on a show when she’s not nursing a sore throat, let me tell you!
I have seen her before in concert, back in the “Power of Love” days…before the hit movie Titanic made her famous, or rather more famous if possible. She was terrific, and magical. Of course, it was an outdoor venue, with the soft summer’s night air blowing all around us, my daughter and I had a wonderful time, listening to this angel open her mouth and this wonderful sound waft out. It seemed almost effortless!
The arena last night didn’t have those same acoustics, and while it was fabulous, some of the magic of that first concert was lost. Either that or I was shell shocked from that magnificent travel time! Still, we were alive – and not stranded along the skyway! It was a good time – still a magical moment! Just hard on a semi-empty stomach (we had pizza at the United Center, not the best Chicago pizza either)
Honey, thank you for the magical evening, I love you!
The concert was scheduled, unfortunately, for the same day as the nation was electing Barack Obama into the highest office in the country – a landmark day – one that warranted a huge celebration in the depth of the city that is Chicago. The same night as Celine Dion got a tickle in her throat? Hmmmmm.
So last evening, my husband and I took the day off work, wanting to spend the afternoon in Chicago shopping along the Mag Mile and grabbing a nice dinner in Little Italy, then attending the re-scheduled concert he so wanted to share with me.
And then it started to snow. We left our home at 2:00 p.m., for the trek which is normally 45 minutes to an hours’ drive. We skipped the shopping as the traffic was bumper to bumper in the blinding weather conditions, barely making the show time at 8:00 p.m. Whew! That Celine can put on a show when she’s not nursing a sore throat, let me tell you!
I have seen her before in concert, back in the “Power of Love” days…before the hit movie Titanic made her famous, or rather more famous if possible. She was terrific, and magical. Of course, it was an outdoor venue, with the soft summer’s night air blowing all around us, my daughter and I had a wonderful time, listening to this angel open her mouth and this wonderful sound waft out. It seemed almost effortless!
The arena last night didn’t have those same acoustics, and while it was fabulous, some of the magic of that first concert was lost. Either that or I was shell shocked from that magnificent travel time! Still, we were alive – and not stranded along the skyway! It was a good time – still a magical moment! Just hard on a semi-empty stomach (we had pizza at the United Center, not the best Chicago pizza either)
Honey, thank you for the magical evening, I love you!
Saturday, December 13, 2008
Diet Pizza - A low cal Delight
Now that's something I've never seen in the grocery: FAT FREE pizza, low cal pizza pie, each piece just under 75 calories. I'd swoon. Course I'd eat 7 pieces of the fat free, low cal delight. And I would gain or maintain my adorable Santa belly.
Ho Ho Ho.
Trouble is, how will it look when I'm crammed into my bathing suit on the beach of Xtapa Mexico,(February 2009-stay tuned) sunning myself and beckonning to my cabana boy,
"OH boy!!! wrestle up another of those fruity things" said in my best Mrs. Thurston Howell, III voice.
I have a portion problem when it comes right down to the favorite foods I eat. I read where some of the thinner celebs have published a day of their diet menus. Thier snack is a glass of water. Thier meal is fish and asparagus spears.
Not three or four pieces of pizza.
Course if you set before me a steaming hot cheesy pie, I'll settle for three or four pieces. If you set before me a platter of cod, I could settle for a small portion. It's all in how you "plate it".
Pass me the water will you?
Ho Ho Ho.
Trouble is, how will it look when I'm crammed into my bathing suit on the beach of Xtapa Mexico,(February 2009-stay tuned) sunning myself and beckonning to my cabana boy,
"OH boy!!! wrestle up another of those fruity things" said in my best Mrs. Thurston Howell, III voice.
I have a portion problem when it comes right down to the favorite foods I eat. I read where some of the thinner celebs have published a day of their diet menus. Thier snack is a glass of water. Thier meal is fish and asparagus spears.
Not three or four pieces of pizza.
Course if you set before me a steaming hot cheesy pie, I'll settle for three or four pieces. If you set before me a platter of cod, I could settle for a small portion. It's all in how you "plate it".
Pass me the water will you?
Monday, December 8, 2008
Monday Blues? Try this Negative Challenge!!!!
Not to be a pain, but… (or a pain in the butt -what Ev)
Well, here’s the gig. I get these yammy shammy emails asking me all kinds of questions and then you know, forward it to someone else – delete your answers then add theirs, yadda yadda..(You Know Who You Are, and I really do love them, STOP it, I mean, it GAH!) Most are the same questions, all very “cute”.
Yet, I read here and there on the blogs and people don’t write “cute”. There’s some angst out there! They rant, they exclaim - very loudly, about the things that bug them, or the things that get them down, that are unfair, that they would like to blow up with some huge internet bomb. Ka-Boom!
So, if you are so inclined, let’s all do a post on these – I triple dog dare you. Link me up to your comments – pass it around as you lurk and comment (say “pssssst, go to runswithscissorsjackeeg.blogspot.com and take on the Negative Challenge she’s posted about”.) Let’s see what comes of it you ranty ravers.
List Five T.V. shows that you will never watch – no, never.
1. Law and Order SVU or any Law and Order…Is it still on even?
2. The secret life of Zack and Cody.
3. Whatever is on opposite The Mentalist.
4. Divorce Court
5. Re-runs of the Family Guy
Five foods I HATE and refuse to eat.
1. Grits
2. Escargot
3. cooked liver with or without onions
4. oatmeal
5. creamed corn or most “creamed” vegetables
Five places I don’t have any interest in visiting.
1. Graceland
2. Prison
3. Jimmi Hendrix grave
4. Birthplace of Marilyn Monroe
5. Waco, Texas
Five things people at work/in my family do to annoy me.
1. Send me those lists of things to forward on.
2. Send me prayers – and claim I’m a bad person or less of a person for not sending them on.
3. co-workers who will not Own anything.
4. People who look the other way….(turning your head, goof, not looking like an alien)
5. Co-workers who leave the coffee pot on with about a ¼ inch of coffee burning at the bottom so that they don’t have to make another pot.
Five worst gifts you received. (oh, yeah…I did)
1. The Jack La Layne juicer – sorry babe.
2. A bathrobe that my X-mother in law got at a garage sale that had a few holes in it. Eww.
3. Blue Sad face earrings instead of Happy Faced earrings (circa 1969 or 1970)
4. I couldn’t even think of more, I love anything anyone buys me!
5. Oh, yeah, my X mom in law again – she was a re-gifter, and one year I got used pot holders she got the year before. Swear.
EEEEEE – the negative vibes, I feel ‘em! Kind of gets you worked up!
I wonder if I’ll get much of a response or reaction. Interesting. Everyone get on out there and let’s campaign for the “five icky things list”….just to see how it’s done.
Now that we’ve all got that out, let’s relax and smile and have more positive, fun, creative posts! Yippee! Happy Monday!
Well, here’s the gig. I get these yammy shammy emails asking me all kinds of questions and then you know, forward it to someone else – delete your answers then add theirs, yadda yadda..(You Know Who You Are, and I really do love them, STOP it, I mean, it GAH!) Most are the same questions, all very “cute”.
Yet, I read here and there on the blogs and people don’t write “cute”. There’s some angst out there! They rant, they exclaim - very loudly, about the things that bug them, or the things that get them down, that are unfair, that they would like to blow up with some huge internet bomb. Ka-Boom!
So, if you are so inclined, let’s all do a post on these – I triple dog dare you. Link me up to your comments – pass it around as you lurk and comment (say “pssssst, go to runswithscissorsjackeeg.blogspot.com and take on the Negative Challenge she’s posted about”.) Let’s see what comes of it you ranty ravers.
List Five T.V. shows that you will never watch – no, never.
1. Law and Order SVU or any Law and Order…Is it still on even?
2. The secret life of Zack and Cody.
3. Whatever is on opposite The Mentalist.
4. Divorce Court
5. Re-runs of the Family Guy
Five foods I HATE and refuse to eat.
1. Grits
2. Escargot
3. cooked liver with or without onions
4. oatmeal
5. creamed corn or most “creamed” vegetables
Five places I don’t have any interest in visiting.
1. Graceland
2. Prison
3. Jimmi Hendrix grave
4. Birthplace of Marilyn Monroe
5. Waco, Texas
Five things people at work/in my family do to annoy me.
1. Send me those lists of things to forward on.
2. Send me prayers – and claim I’m a bad person or less of a person for not sending them on.
3. co-workers who will not Own anything.
4. People who look the other way….(turning your head, goof, not looking like an alien)
5. Co-workers who leave the coffee pot on with about a ¼ inch of coffee burning at the bottom so that they don’t have to make another pot.
Five worst gifts you received. (oh, yeah…I did)
1. The Jack La Layne juicer – sorry babe.
2. A bathrobe that my X-mother in law got at a garage sale that had a few holes in it. Eww.
3. Blue Sad face earrings instead of Happy Faced earrings (circa 1969 or 1970)
4. I couldn’t even think of more, I love anything anyone buys me!
5. Oh, yeah, my X mom in law again – she was a re-gifter, and one year I got used pot holders she got the year before. Swear.
EEEEEE – the negative vibes, I feel ‘em! Kind of gets you worked up!
I wonder if I’ll get much of a response or reaction. Interesting. Everyone get on out there and let’s campaign for the “five icky things list”….just to see how it’s done.
Now that we’ve all got that out, let’s relax and smile and have more positive, fun, creative posts! Yippee! Happy Monday!
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
HO HO HO
So, My daughter had a post that talks about Christmas Wish List's if you could wish for anything you wanted - cost didn't matter...so, I thought, here goes.
My Wish List, by Jackee G
1. A shiny new car. any make, must have CD player and nice cup holder. God, I'm easy.
2. A class in Digital SLR photography. And then Photoshop.
3. A Cricut thing-a-ma-bob to make my own cut out letters for scrapbooking, and lots of font cartridges.
4. Aruba. nuff said.
5. A personal trainer. It could be Hugh Jackman, just a thought.
6. Black nice leather boots with a 3" inch heel only.
And if cost were not a factor,
7. A new house accross the street and down the road, a ranch with a open concept living room/kitchen/dining room and three bedrooms, two baths, full basement, walk-in closets and a seperart laundry room with a large walk-in pantry.
And beyond all that material stuff...
I wish all my children good health and prosperity in 2009. My brother to secure a better and more steady employment along with better health. My mother to lighten up and enjoy her life, such as it is.
My Wish List, by Jackee G
1. A shiny new car. any make, must have CD player and nice cup holder. God, I'm easy.
2. A class in Digital SLR photography. And then Photoshop.
3. A Cricut thing-a-ma-bob to make my own cut out letters for scrapbooking, and lots of font cartridges.
4. Aruba. nuff said.
5. A personal trainer. It could be Hugh Jackman, just a thought.
6. Black nice leather boots with a 3" inch heel only.
And if cost were not a factor,
7. A new house accross the street and down the road, a ranch with a open concept living room/kitchen/dining room and three bedrooms, two baths, full basement, walk-in closets and a seperart laundry room with a large walk-in pantry.
And beyond all that material stuff...
I wish all my children good health and prosperity in 2009. My brother to secure a better and more steady employment along with better health. My mother to lighten up and enjoy her life, such as it is.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
Dog Gone It!
He's black. He's shiny. He's loyal and sweet.
Did I ever tell you about my Dawg? Maybe I did, but who's gonna read through all those archives? Not me, I dare you.
Anyways. Where was I? Oh, yep, my D A WWWG.
He's swell.
I really was through with pets. We'd just gotten rid of the family cats by dispersing them to the adult children as they moved out. The family dog I'd inherited with the blending of our families had suffered a few years of bad health and was finally laid to rest. (that's a term used when you put them to rest....never again, I just can't do it, I say, NEVER again, my pet will be on a heart and lung machine..)
So, when my husband brought home a stray from work, well, I said, NO, he can stay the night, sleep in the garage and he's going back in the morning. He didn't.
I came home from work, checked the back yard and since it was dark outside, I didn't see him sitting politely on the deck right up to the sliding glass door's dark screen. When I opened the door to get a better look, he came right into the house. Alarmed, I watched as he wagged his tail, but sniffed his way around the house. Sitting myself down gently into the recliner, I laid back, covering my legs with a warm afghan. He nibbled at the edge of the coverlet, and I yelled, "Hey stop it". He dropped to the ground, laid right by my feet. Sh*t, he's trained, I thought, I'm doomed. I thought about it, and kept glancing at him. He just laid there sweetly, waiting. My husband came home a little later, and when he opened the door, surprised to see the dog in the house after I'd created such a fuss, he called, "What's this?".
"His name is Casper, and he's a good boy" I replied.
And he's ours.
That was two years ago. He's spoiled and loved, but he gives us more affection than either of us can handle. He loves all the people that come into our house like long lost friends. He's 70 lbs. of lap dog...loves to snuggle. I took this picture on Thanksgiving of him settled in with us.
Still learning how to use my Wicked Cool birthday camera. Hadn't had the time to watch the DVD that came with it, so I'm winging it. Seems that portraits I take of people are too bright too much light. But the black dog, he came out pretty good. My former camera couldn't take a picture of that black dog for ANYthing. He was a shiny black blob.Maybe Santa will give me photography lessons. Yeah, with Hugh Jackman as the instructor! In Austraila yet.
sorry, I got carried away. A girl can dream can't she?
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Thanksgiving Eve
(Folks, I'm having a blog entry today not because I have tons of interesting things to say, but because I can't stand the guilt any more- I've been neglecting my blog and my husbands new found fascination with an old computer game has made it crazy for me to get on my PC at home, so I rest)
Ahhhhh, a short work week, a turkey dinner with all the trimmings, sales ads and slashed down prices on merchandise- WHAT'S NOT TO LOVE?
I'll tell ya. I went to two stores looking for Jello Instant Pumpkin Spice (special edition) pudding and couldn't find it, but that's not the issue. I was out and about on Thanksgiving Eve in a shopping nightmare, standing in a long line that wrapped around the frozen food section so that my knuckles turned blue. While I stood there of course I spied with my little eye all sorts of characters. But the one that stood out to me, was not one but several over 30 close to 50 years of age guys, all who had a long scraggly pony tail hanging down it's back. SEVERAL men, some balding, some whose hair had long ago been brown or black but is now dashed with a dirty gray walked by me. Some were unkempt, and the lack of personal hygiene is the very reason for the long pony tail of hair probably fastened with the rubber band off a bunch of green onions or his newspaper. One was all dressed up, with a nice fitted brown leather jacket and polished shoes and A Pony Tail. (probably a pinkie ring too, I didn't glance that way)
Is it me? Do they know that the 60's have ended and the 70's but a blur? Where is Clinton and Stacy for men? (TLC's what not to wear) I really don't want to see long hair on guys anymore. In fact, if you see Crystal Gayle - she'd better cut her hair now too. She's too old to have that mangy mane.
I am thankful for many things this holiday. Thankful for my hair of course, all conditioned, styled and healthy. Thankful for my family and friends and good health and the prosperity that I do have (as so many are facing financial difficulties at this time) I hope that all of you have a pleasant thanksgiving, and if any of you have unsightly ponytails, please give it a second thought PEOPLE!
P.S. I hope to keep up better with my blog in the future - hint hint Dan, cut me a break and let me get some www time!
Ahhhhh, a short work week, a turkey dinner with all the trimmings, sales ads and slashed down prices on merchandise- WHAT'S NOT TO LOVE?
I'll tell ya. I went to two stores looking for Jello Instant Pumpkin Spice (special edition) pudding and couldn't find it, but that's not the issue. I was out and about on Thanksgiving Eve in a shopping nightmare, standing in a long line that wrapped around the frozen food section so that my knuckles turned blue. While I stood there of course I spied with my little eye all sorts of characters. But the one that stood out to me, was not one but several over 30 close to 50 years of age guys, all who had a long scraggly pony tail hanging down it's back. SEVERAL men, some balding, some whose hair had long ago been brown or black but is now dashed with a dirty gray walked by me. Some were unkempt, and the lack of personal hygiene is the very reason for the long pony tail of hair probably fastened with the rubber band off a bunch of green onions or his newspaper. One was all dressed up, with a nice fitted brown leather jacket and polished shoes and A Pony Tail. (probably a pinkie ring too, I didn't glance that way)
Is it me? Do they know that the 60's have ended and the 70's but a blur? Where is Clinton and Stacy for men? (TLC's what not to wear) I really don't want to see long hair on guys anymore. In fact, if you see Crystal Gayle - she'd better cut her hair now too. She's too old to have that mangy mane.
I am thankful for many things this holiday. Thankful for my hair of course, all conditioned, styled and healthy. Thankful for my family and friends and good health and the prosperity that I do have (as so many are facing financial difficulties at this time) I hope that all of you have a pleasant thanksgiving, and if any of you have unsightly ponytails, please give it a second thought PEOPLE!
P.S. I hope to keep up better with my blog in the future - hint hint Dan, cut me a break and let me get some www time!
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Embracing the Ordinary
It's a fine gray cold Sunday morning. I visited my husband's church yesterday, (we are of two different faith's) so I felt like ditching attendance at my own church this morning in favor of breakfast and reading the paper.
The paper has been skimmed through, I logged on to the big www to read my favorite blogs and blog hop, one of my favorite past times, although one I seldom have time for anymore. Time and energy eludes me anymore, don't know how, just does.
Blogworld is a large variety of differences and sometimes a large variety of commonality (all those "mommy blogs" whew!) I read some, and then click on their blog roll and hop around.
Leaning back in my large comfy leather office chair ( a sweet purchase for my husband on our anniversary - we love it!) I sip my comforting coffee, glance at the gloomy sky as it appears over my backyard and enjoy the moment. No phones, no work, no conversation. I hop up and pour some 2% milk over a fibrous cereal with raisins. Each crispy sweet scoop combined with milk is blissfully enjoyed as it slides down my throat. HOLD THE PHONE JETHRO - this is ordinary stuff here. The newspaper, the lazy morning, the cereal, coffee and the view. And yet it seems bliss?
Maybe that is why I enjoy blogging so much, maybe that is why I love to skip hop onto the next cleverly named blog and eavesdrop into the live of another, there are so many people in flux, with comprehensive challenges that in comparison to the bland makings of my morning, seem even more challenging and more a whirl.
My life is boring now, so much more than the years when I was raising a family. But this ease in challenges has it's own flux and madness. Today's just not one of 'em. And this I am grateful for.
Today, I'm going to revel in the ordinary, embrace it's clean lines and lack of sorrow. I've read many blogs of sorrow, of joblessness, lack of direction, of confusion and anger, (lots of anger out there, no surprise, y'all do know that anger is a precursor to depression right???? Deal with anger, and your life becomes a tad more manageable.) Lot's of blogs with mommy ideals, consumed in perhaps the greatest single most important "job" a person ever has. Parenthood. It does consume you - but should not define you. Take that one apart and envelope it you mommy newbies. These small wonders that have been entrusted to you are yours only to mold and teach. Then if you've done that right, they are ready to be on their own (which does not include even a string like "cord" connecting them to you in their adult years) Hard one that one.
The wind is kicking up a cold front here making the warmth of the coffee mug more inviting with each sip. My toes are cold so the blog entry has a time limit.
I'm going to enjoy my ordinary day today. My daughter and I will trot ourselves into the retail world to plot our holiday purchases and enjoy each other's company. Then perhaps I'll make a pot of soup or chicken and noodles for my husband and I. Tuck in for some rest and Sunday T.V before the busy week begins. Extraordinarily ordinary huh?
The paper has been skimmed through, I logged on to the big www to read my favorite blogs and blog hop, one of my favorite past times, although one I seldom have time for anymore. Time and energy eludes me anymore, don't know how, just does.
Blogworld is a large variety of differences and sometimes a large variety of commonality (all those "mommy blogs" whew!) I read some, and then click on their blog roll and hop around.
Leaning back in my large comfy leather office chair ( a sweet purchase for my husband on our anniversary - we love it!) I sip my comforting coffee, glance at the gloomy sky as it appears over my backyard and enjoy the moment. No phones, no work, no conversation. I hop up and pour some 2% milk over a fibrous cereal with raisins. Each crispy sweet scoop combined with milk is blissfully enjoyed as it slides down my throat. HOLD THE PHONE JETHRO - this is ordinary stuff here. The newspaper, the lazy morning, the cereal, coffee and the view. And yet it seems bliss?
Maybe that is why I enjoy blogging so much, maybe that is why I love to skip hop onto the next cleverly named blog and eavesdrop into the live of another, there are so many people in flux, with comprehensive challenges that in comparison to the bland makings of my morning, seem even more challenging and more a whirl.
My life is boring now, so much more than the years when I was raising a family. But this ease in challenges has it's own flux and madness. Today's just not one of 'em. And this I am grateful for.
Today, I'm going to revel in the ordinary, embrace it's clean lines and lack of sorrow. I've read many blogs of sorrow, of joblessness, lack of direction, of confusion and anger, (lots of anger out there, no surprise, y'all do know that anger is a precursor to depression right???? Deal with anger, and your life becomes a tad more manageable.) Lot's of blogs with mommy ideals, consumed in perhaps the greatest single most important "job" a person ever has. Parenthood. It does consume you - but should not define you. Take that one apart and envelope it you mommy newbies. These small wonders that have been entrusted to you are yours only to mold and teach. Then if you've done that right, they are ready to be on their own (which does not include even a string like "cord" connecting them to you in their adult years) Hard one that one.
The wind is kicking up a cold front here making the warmth of the coffee mug more inviting with each sip. My toes are cold so the blog entry has a time limit.
I'm going to enjoy my ordinary day today. My daughter and I will trot ourselves into the retail world to plot our holiday purchases and enjoy each other's company. Then perhaps I'll make a pot of soup or chicken and noodles for my husband and I. Tuck in for some rest and Sunday T.V before the busy week begins. Extraordinarily ordinary huh?
Thursday, November 6, 2008
Beasts Among Us
Thursday’s not Friday, but it’s tempting to “take a break” what with all the excitement of the election this week and all.
I’m finding myself stumped for blog topics lately (you there, the new ones reading this blog – DO not look away now, you’ve only just come aboard! Chicken!) so you may find strange topics on here for awhile. I hope you'll sit back and just go with the flow.
Drove to work this early morning (6:30 ish) right into the face of the rising sun. Since the change from Daylight Savings Time to regular Central Standard Time, it gets light earlier and gets dark in the late afternoon, just as I’m arriving home. Crap, always feels like I should be ready for bed.
Anyways, I drive through a rural area until I get to the highway, and it’s pretty obvious that Autumn is in full swing, the dappling of sunlight hitting the falling leaves and the bare branches show that the wooded areas are losing their density due to the barren sticks poking out of the tree trunks. BAM! There in front of me is the perky white tailed ass of a full grown deer, darting across the road into the brush of the field to my left. It left behind a few young startled deer faces to my right side of the road. I stop, I wait. They look at me, barely blinking (possibly to see if I’m locked and loaded – it IS hunting season I’m told) and they are stunning.
I’m finding myself stumped for blog topics lately (you there, the new ones reading this blog – DO not look away now, you’ve only just come aboard! Chicken!) so you may find strange topics on here for awhile. I hope you'll sit back and just go with the flow.
Drove to work this early morning (6:30 ish) right into the face of the rising sun. Since the change from Daylight Savings Time to regular Central Standard Time, it gets light earlier and gets dark in the late afternoon, just as I’m arriving home. Crap, always feels like I should be ready for bed.
Anyways, I drive through a rural area until I get to the highway, and it’s pretty obvious that Autumn is in full swing, the dappling of sunlight hitting the falling leaves and the bare branches show that the wooded areas are losing their density due to the barren sticks poking out of the tree trunks. BAM! There in front of me is the perky white tailed ass of a full grown deer, darting across the road into the brush of the field to my left. It left behind a few young startled deer faces to my right side of the road. I stop, I wait. They look at me, barely blinking (possibly to see if I’m locked and loaded – it IS hunting season I’m told) and they are stunning.
Really, think about it. These beasties, large, lithe, live among us and unless they are nibbling at your garden or dead on the side of the road, they are fairly hidden. In this day and age it amazes me. I hike once in a while, I walk through the woods and I rarely see a Deer duplex created in the thicket. I travel those rural roads and mostly I see a carcass or two of careless deer who didn’t make it to the other side. It always makes me sad a bit, these large animals forced out of their surroundings by man. (yeah, and woman too I guess) But really now, they are pretty resilient creatures. They. Live. Among. Us. Think about it, they are living in any weeded thicket of trees in your area right now, sleeping curled up in the day, coming out to forage in the early evening and morning light. And they are a good size to hide! Ask anyone whose Toyota front end met with the future venison stew one dark night. They are almost too big not to see! It amazes me. I can understand that raccoons and opossums and skunks are living among us in those woodsy areas. They are small and can tuck inside a fallen log (Walt Disney has clouded my thinking) and set up house. But these deer, these large animals adapt to surroundings that are very people populated with islands of trees to shelter them. They pop out, and an unsuspecting Volvo wipes them out, but really you rarely know that they are there. Saddens me to see such road kill this time of year, and hey, since I was talking about Christmas yesterday, it's almost as if Rudolph is meeting his maker. (I know, I know deer and reindeer are two different species - who are YOU, Jack Hannah?)
Enough of Wild Kingdom, it’s a Thinkin Thursday and those were my thoughts.
Enough of Wild Kingdom, it’s a Thinkin Thursday and those were my thoughts.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Seasons Greetings
Ok, we've ate most of the Halloween candy, the rotting pumpkin is tossed in the compost pile or garbage can and we've elected another president. What's next? Come on, you KNOW...
50 more days until Christmas!
Let the hoo ha begin! The shopping, the expectations, the thrill of gift preparation and the agony of defeat!
I have always had this mental expectation that Christmas this year was going to be about the warmth of family gatherings. We'll gather around the Christmas tree, warm in our red and green sweaters with the glow of the firelight behind us. Soft seasonal tunes playing as background music our tummies full from home baked goodies, we'll reminisce about days gone by and how wonderfully funny they were. Maybe we'll be glancing at the photo album. Everyone will be tired at nights end and retreat back to their homes with warm thoughts of love for all of the family members and yet another wonderful year behind us. Cozy, Merry, a Christmas video in the making.
Isn't that how your holidays go? Or not?
I remember staying up late, cursing the folded paper directions on how to assemble the Castle Grayskull and the Barbie mini van. It was late, I was tired and the children were nestled, all snug in their beds - with visions of sugar plumbs...no wait, I can't bear to rip off that holiday poem, that seems sacrilege.
Listen folks, it's just not happening the way I'd always dreamed it to be. My kids grown, my family "blended"...I still try to perfect the magic Christmas scene I've always wanted. If I could have it my way, we'd all be wearing matching tams on our heads while eating gingerbread men. We'd be the final scene from The Grinch Stole Christmas!
I shop til I drop to buy gifts that perfectly suit each individuals needs or wish list. I knock myself out cooking and preparing for the big feast. I try too hard, I know...but I just want everyone to have the holiday that they dream of. I just don't think anyone enjoys it that much. Or my expectations are too high - the more likely matter. I just wish for the picture perfect Christmas celebration of love and family. Instead my mom will buck coming over, as there are "too many people," and she feels she is "in the way", she doesn't like most of the gifts anyone buys for her, unless they are specifically ordered by her. No surprises there. I wish it were so different, I wish she would come and enjoy the family.
I think all the kids at the Brady Family Christmas, like the gluttony of gifts I shop for, wrap up and shove in their faces, so excited I am...but it's hard to tell. Sometimes, I think they'd prefer gift cards or cold hard cash. I just can't seem to do it, I like the shopping and the surprises. There is no gushing of sentiment - it all seems so very lack luster. So while I sit here and type, I think of my extended family, whose company I would enjoy, my eldest brother, Joe who lives in Portland, Oregon. (Hi Joe, wave wave) - hell, I haven't spent a Christmas with Joe since 1981. We don't even celebrate the holiday on the HOLIDAY - we celebrate it close to the holiday, so that all can attend, and not have to dash off and attend another family celebration.
My point? I have 50 days to lower my expectations, not to gear up for my own "needs" of crippled family emotions spewing forth (that may never happen). To purchase gifts that I know will be appreciated, and to simply enjoy what is...whatever that may be. Think I can do that? Stay tuned.
I do love the holidays. I don't want to make it sound like I don't. Like it's a bother, because it's not. I guess it's my own feelings of wanting everyone and everything to be perfect and enjoyable and it seems lacking in some way so I feel like a failure.
I won't let it happen this year. This year, I'll enjoy the moment - whatever it brings. 50 days from now? Yikes!
50 more days until Christmas!
Let the hoo ha begin! The shopping, the expectations, the thrill of gift preparation and the agony of defeat!
I have always had this mental expectation that Christmas this year was going to be about the warmth of family gatherings. We'll gather around the Christmas tree, warm in our red and green sweaters with the glow of the firelight behind us. Soft seasonal tunes playing as background music our tummies full from home baked goodies, we'll reminisce about days gone by and how wonderfully funny they were. Maybe we'll be glancing at the photo album. Everyone will be tired at nights end and retreat back to their homes with warm thoughts of love for all of the family members and yet another wonderful year behind us. Cozy, Merry, a Christmas video in the making.
Isn't that how your holidays go? Or not?
I remember staying up late, cursing the folded paper directions on how to assemble the Castle Grayskull and the Barbie mini van. It was late, I was tired and the children were nestled, all snug in their beds - with visions of sugar plumbs...no wait, I can't bear to rip off that holiday poem, that seems sacrilege.
Listen folks, it's just not happening the way I'd always dreamed it to be. My kids grown, my family "blended"...I still try to perfect the magic Christmas scene I've always wanted. If I could have it my way, we'd all be wearing matching tams on our heads while eating gingerbread men. We'd be the final scene from The Grinch Stole Christmas!
I shop til I drop to buy gifts that perfectly suit each individuals needs or wish list. I knock myself out cooking and preparing for the big feast. I try too hard, I know...but I just want everyone to have the holiday that they dream of. I just don't think anyone enjoys it that much. Or my expectations are too high - the more likely matter. I just wish for the picture perfect Christmas celebration of love and family. Instead my mom will buck coming over, as there are "too many people," and she feels she is "in the way", she doesn't like most of the gifts anyone buys for her, unless they are specifically ordered by her. No surprises there. I wish it were so different, I wish she would come and enjoy the family.
I think all the kids at the Brady Family Christmas, like the gluttony of gifts I shop for, wrap up and shove in their faces, so excited I am...but it's hard to tell. Sometimes, I think they'd prefer gift cards or cold hard cash. I just can't seem to do it, I like the shopping and the surprises. There is no gushing of sentiment - it all seems so very lack luster. So while I sit here and type, I think of my extended family, whose company I would enjoy, my eldest brother, Joe who lives in Portland, Oregon. (Hi Joe, wave wave) - hell, I haven't spent a Christmas with Joe since 1981. We don't even celebrate the holiday on the HOLIDAY - we celebrate it close to the holiday, so that all can attend, and not have to dash off and attend another family celebration.
My point? I have 50 days to lower my expectations, not to gear up for my own "needs" of crippled family emotions spewing forth (that may never happen). To purchase gifts that I know will be appreciated, and to simply enjoy what is...whatever that may be. Think I can do that? Stay tuned.
I do love the holidays. I don't want to make it sound like I don't. Like it's a bother, because it's not. I guess it's my own feelings of wanting everyone and everything to be perfect and enjoyable and it seems lacking in some way so I feel like a failure.
I won't let it happen this year. This year, I'll enjoy the moment - whatever it brings. 50 days from now? Yikes!
Tuesday, November 4, 2008
Proud To B A Voter But....
Didja vote today?
Didja get up early stand in line, think it was "no fair" that someone voted last Friday afternoon or last Saturday, while they sipped a Mocha Latte and read the newspaper, and hey.....is anyone watching the counting of those early votes?
I ask this because while I was standing in the long line at the local school, my To Go coffee mug chillin in my car, the line was long, and wrapped around the building, the official poll workers stopped the voting to "log the tremendous amount of absentee ballots they just received". We waited, but no one knew where the heck these absentee ballots were hiding at say, 6:00 a.m. or say, YESTERDAY.
Still I'm happy to vote, to do my civic duty, for the honor all our foremothers fought for.
But perhaps in 2012, can we cast our ballot on line?
Didja get up early stand in line, think it was "no fair" that someone voted last Friday afternoon or last Saturday, while they sipped a Mocha Latte and read the newspaper, and hey.....is anyone watching the counting of those early votes?
I ask this because while I was standing in the long line at the local school, my To Go coffee mug chillin in my car, the line was long, and wrapped around the building, the official poll workers stopped the voting to "log the tremendous amount of absentee ballots they just received". We waited, but no one knew where the heck these absentee ballots were hiding at say, 6:00 a.m. or say, YESTERDAY.
Still I'm happy to vote, to do my civic duty, for the honor all our foremothers fought for.
But perhaps in 2012, can we cast our ballot on line?
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Halloween - Office Style
How cool is it that Halloween is on a Friday night this year?
Remember when you were a kid, all dressed up, usually too hot or too cold depending on the weather and your costume? Crashing from a sugar coma at around 9:30 p.m., clutching your "better" candy bars to keep them away from your siblings or your mother?
I love Halloween.
I loved it more as a young mom, with the toddlers or the school aged kids all excited, dressed up and ready to trick or treat, my biggest worry was who was going to hand out candy at our house while I walked around the block with the kids.
We used to decorate our house big time. Started out small, with some cardboard skeleton and Frankenstein figures I used to tape to the door in the kitchen. My small children excited by the decor, but scared to go into the kitchen after dinner, because "Skelly or Frankie" would get them. Ah, those were the days. As my kids grew, so did the decorations. We carved pumpkins, natch, but one year we used 2" thick Styrofoam insulation sheets to create life-sized tombstones and made a really cool graveyard in our front yard - Complete with piled leaves to appear as if someone was buried fresh under the mound. We re-used it, year after year, and come one hallowed night, years later, my teen-aged son and a friend hid under the leaves jumping out to scare the smaller kids right out of the yard. Booooo! More candy for us.
Now, without the kids I have a hard time getting into the fun. But I try, oh, yes I have. The first year, sans kids at home, I really decorated the outside of our new home. Had skulls placed over our landscape lights and my husband created a large spider's web over the front porch. Rats lined up on our railing, and I got some dry ice from our lab at work and made a "brew" in a black cauldron on the front porch. When trick or treating began, I played this Halloween tape of scary sounds (complete with a woman moaning, but we won't get into that...) The kids in our neighborhood were too young to enjoy it, too scared to approach the porch for the huge bowls of candy I had bought to pass out. I gained ten pounds eating that candy.
Now this year, I'm too tired from working and getting caught up from my trip to even decorate. My co-workers are planning a pot luck luncheon and planning on dressing up for the day at the medical center. I hadn't planned on it this year. I've been taunted by them all week. The staff knows what a ghoul I usually am, planning my costume, decorating the office. I'm too pooped. Finally today, I decided to go to the local store to see what I could find to make a last minute costume, and to participate even marginally.
I walked out with a tiny bag - and a terrific idea. This is what I bought.
I normally wear a suit to work. This year, I'll be a man. Perfect.
Hope I can still snag a Three Musketeers Bar or two.
Remember when you were a kid, all dressed up, usually too hot or too cold depending on the weather and your costume? Crashing from a sugar coma at around 9:30 p.m., clutching your "better" candy bars to keep them away from your siblings or your mother?
I love Halloween.
I loved it more as a young mom, with the toddlers or the school aged kids all excited, dressed up and ready to trick or treat, my biggest worry was who was going to hand out candy at our house while I walked around the block with the kids.
We used to decorate our house big time. Started out small, with some cardboard skeleton and Frankenstein figures I used to tape to the door in the kitchen. My small children excited by the decor, but scared to go into the kitchen after dinner, because "Skelly or Frankie" would get them. Ah, those were the days. As my kids grew, so did the decorations. We carved pumpkins, natch, but one year we used 2" thick Styrofoam insulation sheets to create life-sized tombstones and made a really cool graveyard in our front yard - Complete with piled leaves to appear as if someone was buried fresh under the mound. We re-used it, year after year, and come one hallowed night, years later, my teen-aged son and a friend hid under the leaves jumping out to scare the smaller kids right out of the yard. Booooo! More candy for us.
Now, without the kids I have a hard time getting into the fun. But I try, oh, yes I have. The first year, sans kids at home, I really decorated the outside of our new home. Had skulls placed over our landscape lights and my husband created a large spider's web over the front porch. Rats lined up on our railing, and I got some dry ice from our lab at work and made a "brew" in a black cauldron on the front porch. When trick or treating began, I played this Halloween tape of scary sounds (complete with a woman moaning, but we won't get into that...) The kids in our neighborhood were too young to enjoy it, too scared to approach the porch for the huge bowls of candy I had bought to pass out. I gained ten pounds eating that candy.
Now this year, I'm too tired from working and getting caught up from my trip to even decorate. My co-workers are planning a pot luck luncheon and planning on dressing up for the day at the medical center. I hadn't planned on it this year. I've been taunted by them all week. The staff knows what a ghoul I usually am, planning my costume, decorating the office. I'm too pooped. Finally today, I decided to go to the local store to see what I could find to make a last minute costume, and to participate even marginally.
I walked out with a tiny bag - and a terrific idea. This is what I bought.
I normally wear a suit to work. This year, I'll be a man. Perfect.Hope I can still snag a Three Musketeers Bar or two.
Sunday, October 26, 2008
I *Heart* you Blog Buddies, Come Back, Come Back...
I'm Baack! Did you all miss me? (note to self: ask others to guest post on blog while you are gone next time...come on, you have friends in blog places, it'll be fun)
Well, I'm home from said business trip to Orlando. I've been so busy and so tired trying to catch up that I've not had time to stop and share a thought or two on my lonely blog.
First things first.
Hey! What happened to the trees in Northwest Indiana? While I was gone a measley week, all the leaves turned, and some trees are already bare now. Too fast, and today, I might add, I'll need a winter coat!
Second. Orlando is still hot and muggy in August. Screw Disney World, give me an air conditioned room anywhere! It's not the state, nor time of year for menopausal women in a 60% polyester suit. Whoo boy, got some major meltdown there! I had to attend a briefing on proper Disney protocol (taken from excerpts of Disney University - it's what's known as an in-service type of class that all Disney workers attend to teach them the "Disney speak" and other customer service related skills ) Such as calling employees "cast members", and the areas that guests can see are "on stage" but those they cannot see are "back stage", etc.
Now, I'm back to work, my own work piled high on my desk, a new employee to train, full swing into cold/flu season. I'm declared Biz-zee until Christmas.
I missed you all too - so my post will be brief, so I might read what others are up to. Promise I'll write more soon.
Well, I'm home from said business trip to Orlando. I've been so busy and so tired trying to catch up that I've not had time to stop and share a thought or two on my lonely blog.
First things first.
Hey! What happened to the trees in Northwest Indiana? While I was gone a measley week, all the leaves turned, and some trees are already bare now. Too fast, and today, I might add, I'll need a winter coat!
Second. Orlando is still hot and muggy in August. Screw Disney World, give me an air conditioned room anywhere! It's not the state, nor time of year for menopausal women in a 60% polyester suit. Whoo boy, got some major meltdown there! I had to attend a briefing on proper Disney protocol (taken from excerpts of Disney University - it's what's known as an in-service type of class that all Disney workers attend to teach them the "Disney speak" and other customer service related skills ) Such as calling employees "cast members", and the areas that guests can see are "on stage" but those they cannot see are "back stage", etc.
Now, I'm back to work, my own work piled high on my desk, a new employee to train, full swing into cold/flu season. I'm declared Biz-zee until Christmas.
I missed you all too - so my post will be brief, so I might read what others are up to. Promise I'll write more soon.
Friday, October 10, 2008
Fun Fact Friday - TGIF edition
Ta Ta for now folks, soon I'm off to Orlando for a work related va-ca to Disney for my company's newest edition to the Health and Wellness arena. It's not a total vacation. It's work related. I wish I had thought to arrange guest bloggers for you, my dear readers - but I've been so very very busy lately that I've not had time to read much less type away myself.
So, that's the only fact.
I'm glad it's Friday-take care, be well and see you soon as I return on the 20th! ( I know, I know, I'll have lost all my readers by then, but you are all true blue, right?)
So, that's the only fact.
I'm glad it's Friday-take care, be well and see you soon as I return on the 20th! ( I know, I know, I'll have lost all my readers by then, but you are all true blue, right?)
Sunday, October 5, 2008
Itchy and bitchy
See those lovely falling leaves we caught below? We then pressed them into wax paper in a book with blank pages that the Little Miss is going to use to display her "leaf collection". We had so much fun on that quiet Sunday afternoon.
Now I'm itching. And bitching. I can't sleep, my neck and forehead and face has blotchy swollen patches.
It's the poison ivy itch. And it's spreading.
It's why I named the blog "Runs with scissors". If I could trip I would, and my granddaughter luckily has escaped the doomed rash.
Sorry, I better go disinfect my keyboard and you ad better too!
Now I'm itching. And bitching. I can't sleep, my neck and forehead and face has blotchy swollen patches.
It's the poison ivy itch. And it's spreading.
It's why I named the blog "Runs with scissors". If I could trip I would, and my granddaughter luckily has escaped the doomed rash.
Sorry, I better go disinfect my keyboard and you ad better too!
Thursday, October 2, 2008
Mix of Summer and Fall
This weekend past, I spent the day with my six year old buddy, my granddaughter the Little Miss. She and I share alot of common interests, which makes spending our moments together great fun. Of course, she probably just likes some "gramma time", and those common interests are six year old fun no matter WHO she's spending the time with. But anyway, we took what we like to call an adventure. That's where we take a lunch and go to a nearby park and hike, take photos and just adventure around. This time, I gave her my old digital camera to use, and I was able to mess with my new one. (Did I mention that I want to marry my new camera?)
Pause for an ode to camera.So, here are just a few, a pictorial review of the first of many fall days. We dodged both mosquitos and the falling Sugar Maple leaves.
The Old Mill, present in the park where most of our "adventures" take place.
My little photographer, zooming in on flora that caught her eye. Notice happy meal box in the background, yeah, that was lunch, we were not littering, just using the box for our leaf collection.
I was playing with some light, in the darkness under a gazebo.
We gathered some leaves, ones that caught her eye, and pressed them between waxed paper when we got back home. Won't these photo's be a nice addition to her leaf collection and memory book? I know they were a great addition to mine!Tuesday, September 30, 2008
Catch UP
Isn't if odd that you can be away from home/office for only 3 or 4 days and the work PILES up?
I've been out of town on business for a few days, flying home late Saturday evening. The weekend before that was my birthday celebration (s) {Thank you family, thank you church ladies-remind me that tequila will te-kill you. Each.and.every.time}
I'm so very behind with work and chores from home so if you stop by this here blog expecting my jovial old self. Sorry. Just know that I'm mopping floors, doing laundry etc.
The weather is turning colder the leaves are ready to turn and soon I'll be stuck to my PC like glue looking for something to do, something to inspire me, as you all do. OH, and I'll be snapping pictures with my long lusted after digital camera (Nikon D40) that my family purchased so that I might commence to memory every.odd.detail.of.our.lives.
Promise, next post will be some snaps I took this weekend with the Little Miss.
I've been out of town on business for a few days, flying home late Saturday evening. The weekend before that was my birthday celebration (s) {Thank you family, thank you church ladies-remind me that tequila will te-kill you. Each.and.every.time}
I'm so very behind with work and chores from home so if you stop by this here blog expecting my jovial old self. Sorry. Just know that I'm mopping floors, doing laundry etc.
The weather is turning colder the leaves are ready to turn and soon I'll be stuck to my PC like glue looking for something to do, something to inspire me, as you all do. OH, and I'll be snapping pictures with my long lusted after digital camera (Nikon D40) that my family purchased so that I might commence to memory every.odd.detail.of.our.lives.
Promise, next post will be some snaps I took this weekend with the Little Miss.
Friday, September 19, 2008
Fun Fact Friday-The Birthday Edition
*24 short hours and I will enter into a new decade. I’m searching for a damn snappy title. Like a theme-the Decade of Song, The Decade of Laughter, The Decade of Anti-Wrinkle Cream, The Decade I Host My Own TV Talk Show, The Decade of Cheap Wine and Beer Farts. Which one do you think will win?
*Today the lovely staff of the entire medical center dressed in black-mourning for my lost and misspent youth I imagine. They also featured a surprise Mexican menu buffet. It was really supah.
*I still have not received my crown/tiara.
*I ate more than 1200 calories for lunch ONLY. I guess that means Sugar Free gum and water for dinner tonight!
Subtitle: Little known Facts from the First 50 years.
*I was hit by a car while crossing the street to school one morning when I was in 2nd grade. I was rushed to the ER, where I hadn’t suffered any serious injury and my cool older brother (4th grade) used this opportunity to tell all that were concerned that I had several broken bones and perhaps a near death experience. Cool way to turn a situation around Joe! My class made me Valentines that started out to say “Dear Jacquelyn, Sorry to hear you are almost dead.” I saved them for years, they were great.
*I was quite the entrepreneur growing up. My BFF and I often tried to sell different homemade projects to raise money for an often coveted item. We sold coffee cans of freshly pulled grass to feed to the pony in the pasture behind my house. (Clue: not a very successful money maker) One of my favorites, was when we dug through the trash, finding all kinds of glass bottles, (ie: shampoo bottles, salad dressing etc.) and soaked off the labels, filled them with food coloring and water and RESOLD them to our loved ones and neighbors. Hence we are both still gainfully employed with retirement far on the horizon.
*Most of my childhood and adult life, I have always had long or shoulder length hair. Once, the summer before 5th grade, I got it chopped off , much lik the very style I wear now (look over at the picture in the sidebar) I seriously thought I was sassy and sexy with this sleek new do. Until my dentist appointment, the doof Dr. thought I was my older brother! Um, started growing it out from that moment and until my early 40’s wore it shoulder length or longer. Could have been the lack of boobies. Still waiting for those to grow in.
That’s enough random crap about my first 50 years so far…notice I left out my single years/my teen years/LAST YEAR! HA!!!!
*Today the lovely staff of the entire medical center dressed in black-mourning for my lost and misspent youth I imagine. They also featured a surprise Mexican menu buffet. It was really supah.
*I still have not received my crown/tiara.
*I ate more than 1200 calories for lunch ONLY. I guess that means Sugar Free gum and water for dinner tonight!
Subtitle: Little known Facts from the First 50 years.
*I was hit by a car while crossing the street to school one morning when I was in 2nd grade. I was rushed to the ER, where I hadn’t suffered any serious injury and my cool older brother (4th grade) used this opportunity to tell all that were concerned that I had several broken bones and perhaps a near death experience. Cool way to turn a situation around Joe! My class made me Valentines that started out to say “Dear Jacquelyn, Sorry to hear you are almost dead.” I saved them for years, they were great.
*I was quite the entrepreneur growing up. My BFF and I often tried to sell different homemade projects to raise money for an often coveted item. We sold coffee cans of freshly pulled grass to feed to the pony in the pasture behind my house. (Clue: not a very successful money maker) One of my favorites, was when we dug through the trash, finding all kinds of glass bottles, (ie: shampoo bottles, salad dressing etc.) and soaked off the labels, filled them with food coloring and water and RESOLD them to our loved ones and neighbors. Hence we are both still gainfully employed with retirement far on the horizon.
*Most of my childhood and adult life, I have always had long or shoulder length hair. Once, the summer before 5th grade, I got it chopped off , much lik the very style I wear now (look over at the picture in the sidebar) I seriously thought I was sassy and sexy with this sleek new do. Until my dentist appointment, the doof Dr. thought I was my older brother! Um, started growing it out from that moment and until my early 40’s wore it shoulder length or longer. Could have been the lack of boobies. Still waiting for those to grow in.
That’s enough random crap about my first 50 years so far…notice I left out my single years/my teen years/LAST YEAR! HA!!!!
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Crown Me!
WANTED: Crown and Sceptor (new or slightly used) for use at 50th Birthday Celebration.
So, If I have to turn 50 years old on Saturday - Do you think that this is too much to wear during dinner with my family? After all, I plan to be the Queen of Middle Age!
Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Doughnut Distress
It was still dark in the kitchen when I came down the stairs, packed my lunch and prepared my coffee to go cup and all of a sudden my early morning eyes spied: a flat box of almost fresh doughnuts. (heavy organ music, dunt, dunt, dunnnnnnn)
Almost fresh because they were purchased at a bakery late last evening by my lady friend who asked me how would I like to celebrate my birthday. (I replied sitting with a tiara on my head, a bottle of tequila on my lap eating doughnuts from a box) So, they bought me an assortment of bakery doughnuts, a bottle of tequila and we celebrated.
But this morning, the lure of the doughnut remains is strong. I had one. (one the size of TEXAS) Then I triumphantly packed up the gooey remains and brought them into work, setting them in our staff lounge to taunt others.
And they are doing a fine job.
Seems I’ve gained a few pounds my readers. I knew it. I didn’t want to face it, who does? My shirts and suit jackets were becoming snug so I got on the damn scale.
It’s starting to piss me off. Gaining weight, sweating like a naked steam room guy all night long, chin hair - I BLAME this being 50 thing! (aging what a hoot!) But since I can’t turn back the hands of time , nor can I continue to be only photographed from the neck up(only in my mug shot) I will not, I repeat not wear a size 14 when I turn 60, I guess I better get serious about this diet and exercise thing. I think I’m just talking/typing aloud today in this blog because real life is a series of pieces that are not all that interesting nor fun. All’s I got is three or four closets of clothes that are now approaching snug.
New leaf. Starting today. Back to 1200 calories a day. If you don’t hear from me it’s because I’ve snacked on my mouse or keyboard. Come to think of it, my mouse pad does look good!
Almost fresh because they were purchased at a bakery late last evening by my lady friend who asked me how would I like to celebrate my birthday. (I replied sitting with a tiara on my head, a bottle of tequila on my lap eating doughnuts from a box) So, they bought me an assortment of bakery doughnuts, a bottle of tequila and we celebrated.
But this morning, the lure of the doughnut remains is strong. I had one. (one the size of TEXAS) Then I triumphantly packed up the gooey remains and brought them into work, setting them in our staff lounge to taunt others.
And they are doing a fine job.
Seems I’ve gained a few pounds my readers. I knew it. I didn’t want to face it, who does? My shirts and suit jackets were becoming snug so I got on the damn scale.
It’s starting to piss me off. Gaining weight, sweating like a naked steam room guy all night long, chin hair - I BLAME this being 50 thing! (aging what a hoot!) But since I can’t turn back the hands of time , nor can I continue to be only photographed from the neck up(only in my mug shot) I will not, I repeat not wear a size 14 when I turn 60, I guess I better get serious about this diet and exercise thing. I think I’m just talking/typing aloud today in this blog because real life is a series of pieces that are not all that interesting nor fun. All’s I got is three or four closets of clothes that are now approaching snug.
New leaf. Starting today. Back to 1200 calories a day. If you don’t hear from me it’s because I’ve snacked on my mouse or keyboard. Come to think of it, my mouse pad does look good!
Thursday, September 11, 2008
As The Channel Turns
I’m Baaack…did you guys miss me while I was gone? I’ve been a little under the weather it’s true. Started last Saturday with the sore throat and sniffles, and wiped me out on Sunday with fever, body aches and full blown head cold. Today being Thursday, I’m on the road to a mucous free life and whoa…I get slammed with a migraine. (Did I mention it being the MOTHER of migraines?) I thought my dark migraine history was over or at least stunted by my onset of menopause or OLD AGE, but I was proven wrong today.
While I was laid up in my Lazy Boy, complete with sweat pants, comfy blankie and a Nyquil buzz I spent the afternoon channel surfing. Moving my thumb over the remote’s channel button took up all the energy that my aching body could exude, and I was basically disappointed with the weekends television picks. I normally love bad T.V. There, I’ve said it. I can be judgy, I can opinionate myself into oblivion with bad T.V. It doesn’t move me to get up and dance, exercise, clean/organize my home, cook or makeover my kitchen or girlfriends. I got stuck watching Jon and Kate and their brood of energy packed cuteness, flipping the channel back and forth, forth and back between A Crime Story. Note to self: Never let home decor become so out dated, so drab and messy that I might actually be
A. Driven to murder
B. Suspected of murder
C. Be murdered.
Seriously, have you ever noticed in a crime scene photo, everything is so messy, the furnishings so outdated, pillows don’t match, beds are unmade, dishes are strewn everywhere, it’s a sign of mur-der. Red rum, red rum, red rum. I always knew there was a reason to keep a tidy house, but couldn’t put my finger on it. Looks better in crime scene photos.
Ok, after my fifth consecutive CSI episode, I flipped over to TLC, expecting Kate and her sassiness or Clinton and Stacey to show me the fashion “don’ts”, but no way, I got a newer show. It’s Kids by the Dozen, featuring the Winter family.
Drawn out of my snot filled coma of antihistamines, my eyes wide with reality disbelief, this family has 11 or so kids, their family is supported by dad who is a musician and mom runs a daycare inside of their home. In reality show fashion, each character tells an unseen camera person their “take” on the situation. The mom, tells why they are all dressed so weirdly. (think cult style Little House on the Prairie meets Amish) She tells, “we started to dress plain a few years ago, we live near an Amish community and we just like the plain way of life”. She tells this, as she’s using a curling iron to curl her hair. It’s not like they were going to BE Amish, they just like to dress like them. Weird, not the eleven kid part, because that was joyful and entertaining, but the kinda-dressing-Amish these-days-attitude. I was glad to be well, back to work and DANG, I’m waiting for that new fall season!
Have you seen the trailers for the new show with Simon Baker called the Mentalist? OOOHHH baby, he’s on my list! Something has to replace the now cancelled vampire hotness that was Moonlight. That guy was HOT. Seems like I just start developing a crush and they cancel the series. Hope that isn’t an automatic cancel now that I’ve voiced my desire to watch the Mentalist. (check it out!) Enough of my t.v. ramblings, seriously, I ‘d like to hear about the garbage that you’ve become entranced by.
While I was laid up in my Lazy Boy, complete with sweat pants, comfy blankie and a Nyquil buzz I spent the afternoon channel surfing. Moving my thumb over the remote’s channel button took up all the energy that my aching body could exude, and I was basically disappointed with the weekends television picks. I normally love bad T.V. There, I’ve said it. I can be judgy, I can opinionate myself into oblivion with bad T.V. It doesn’t move me to get up and dance, exercise, clean/organize my home, cook or makeover my kitchen or girlfriends. I got stuck watching Jon and Kate and their brood of energy packed cuteness, flipping the channel back and forth, forth and back between A Crime Story. Note to self: Never let home decor become so out dated, so drab and messy that I might actually be
A. Driven to murder
B. Suspected of murder
C. Be murdered.
Seriously, have you ever noticed in a crime scene photo, everything is so messy, the furnishings so outdated, pillows don’t match, beds are unmade, dishes are strewn everywhere, it’s a sign of mur-der. Red rum, red rum, red rum. I always knew there was a reason to keep a tidy house, but couldn’t put my finger on it. Looks better in crime scene photos.
Ok, after my fifth consecutive CSI episode, I flipped over to TLC, expecting Kate and her sassiness or Clinton and Stacey to show me the fashion “don’ts”, but no way, I got a newer show. It’s Kids by the Dozen, featuring the Winter family.
Drawn out of my snot filled coma of antihistamines, my eyes wide with reality disbelief, this family has 11 or so kids, their family is supported by dad who is a musician and mom runs a daycare inside of their home. In reality show fashion, each character tells an unseen camera person their “take” on the situation. The mom, tells why they are all dressed so weirdly. (think cult style Little House on the Prairie meets Amish) She tells, “we started to dress plain a few years ago, we live near an Amish community and we just like the plain way of life”. She tells this, as she’s using a curling iron to curl her hair. It’s not like they were going to BE Amish, they just like to dress like them. Weird, not the eleven kid part, because that was joyful and entertaining, but the kinda-dressing-Amish these-days-attitude. I was glad to be well, back to work and DANG, I’m waiting for that new fall season!
Have you seen the trailers for the new show with Simon Baker called the Mentalist? OOOHHH baby, he’s on my list! Something has to replace the now cancelled vampire hotness that was Moonlight. That guy was HOT. Seems like I just start developing a crush and they cancel the series. Hope that isn’t an automatic cancel now that I’ve voiced my desire to watch the Mentalist. (check it out!) Enough of my t.v. ramblings, seriously, I ‘d like to hear about the garbage that you’ve become entranced by.
Friday, September 5, 2008
Bluetooth meets Head Cold
Blue Tooth Operator: Please say a command
Me: Call Dan Mobile
BTO: Did you say call Nan Noble?
Me: No
BTO: Did you say call Non ooble?
Me: No!
BTO: Did you say call Da Nodile?
Me: NO
BTO: Please try again later.
Disconnect
BTO: Please say a command
Me: Call 2195555555
BTO: Did you say call TEW ONE dime fibe fibe bive fibe fibe VIBE fibe?
Me: No
BTO: Did you say call TEW ONE fime dime bive fife vibe fibe fibe?
Me: No
BTO: Did you say call TEW ONE nine fibe vibe bibe bibe fibe fibe?
Me: no
BTO: Please try again later.
Me: Achew! Could use a Kleenex about now.
Me: Call Dan Mobile
BTO: Did you say call Nan Noble?
Me: No
BTO: Did you say call Non ooble?
Me: No!
BTO: Did you say call Da Nodile?
Me: NO
BTO: Please try again later.
Disconnect
BTO: Please say a command
Me: Call 2195555555
BTO: Did you say call TEW ONE dime fibe fibe bive fibe fibe VIBE fibe?
Me: No
BTO: Did you say call TEW ONE fime dime bive fife vibe fibe fibe?
Me: No
BTO: Did you say call TEW ONE nine fibe vibe bibe bibe fibe fibe?
Me: no
BTO: Please try again later.
Me: Achew! Could use a Kleenex about now.
Thursday, September 4, 2008
The Rain, The Day, and Me
Well, well my friends, again I take a day off work and AGAIN , it rains. Now it is a much needed rain, so I am not one to curse a blessing, but like, couldn’t it wait until say, Friday, when I am back safely tucked inside my office, with no hopes of frolicking in the late summer’s sunlight.
So, my plans awash with the overcast light, I had really scheduled the day off to commit myself to a consult with a hand surgeon on the cyst that has plagued my right ring finger-mid knuckle for about eight years. Eight years of wiggling the tiny pea like cyst back and forth, painlessly, fiddling with it as if I could magically hide it under the muscle and suddenly, very suddenly in fact, I started to feel sharp pains shooting up the nerve in the finger. Only when I wanted to grasp my hot coffee mug, book tucked under my arm, something or other in my left hand, to suddenly feel this sharp pain and loose the strength of my tight grasp, coffee cup now askew sending dollops of hot brew onto the floor, did this bother me, even slightly. A few weeks ago my knuckle swollen and red, my little cyst friend was really acting up, so much so that it kept me awake at night, pulsating. I scheduled this consult to see what he could do, knowing he would want to whack it off, but hoping he could recommend some nice cyst-be-gone cream to rub on it.
So, I’m driving up and down the side street off Broadway in a professional complex, searching for this surgeon’s office, nearly late. I found the office, barely being able to see through the rain soaked windshield, the drops started to pelt it faster and faster. I love me some time off.
The good dr. took a fascinating x-ray, determined that he would like to try to aspirate it, and froze my finger, poking around in it, trying to burst the cyst. It would not cooperate with this plan. I have to schedule another day off, to have it surgically removed, if I want to, but he recommends I do so while it’s still small. Trying to type to all of you has been a challenge, but one that is well worth it!
So, I’m out of said appointment at around 9:30 a.m. A long rain soaked afternoon stretching before me. I decided to pay Sears a visit, because my almost new front loading washer is malfunctioning; only using the very hottest of water in both the wash/rinse cycle of any cycle that you choose. This is wrecking havoc on my fine washables, deeply imbedding wrinkles into all of my slacks that will not be ironed out! I found the ladies at Sears so helpful, and scheduled a home visit for the washer repairman. With this task accomplished, I pondered my next move and fought but did not win over that loud inner voice “Back away from the sales rack lady”, I heard in a tone so unbecoming a true “lady” shopper.
“Back away and hand over your debit card”!
“Um, no”, I replied. And then I sashayed away with a smart pair of bronze shoes (reduced to 9.99), a nice new pair of black slacks and a blouse with satin, cut out flowers around the rounded neckline. Oooooh. And I bought another smart outfit at another store, and then at another store I bought a pair of my favorite pair of pants on SALE for $17, but when I went to pay for them, I got another 20% off just for stopping by on a rainy day. My day is shaping up! I bought a few items for Christmas gifts, as I am prone to do, to fend off the guilt only shopping carnage can bring, by stocking up on gifts for others, it works, don’t knock it, and then I headed for the car. Except I had to walk by the book store to do so, the very book store that I still have a gift card for (Thank you Adam, I LOVE it) and as one addict supported by an enabling son is prone to do, I bought more books. OK, my husband just said last night that I needed to donate some of the stacks of books that are piled in double rows in my bookshelf, but I didn’t want to tell him that those are the very stacks that I have not read yet. I’m waiting for a rainy day.
I bought only two books, one about a 40 year old woman who can’t have a child and her husband has an affair and gets his mistress pregnant, and the other a book about two sisters, who are conjoined twins! Drama!
I came home and tried on the clothes I just purchased. Perfect fit! I checked the tags, and damn, sure enough, they were made in CHINA! (read prior post! I told y'all so!) I tucked them away, carefully hidden in the closet (so as not to attract the attention of the clothes police, my husband, the sergeant of THAT police force) and in celebration heated up the left over carton of Chinese chicken fried rice and ate while reading the first two chapters of the book of sisters…this is really shaping up into a self indulged “me” day.
After I finished chapter three and a Hershey bar that I’d been saving for S’mores, but decided to forego the graham cracker and marshmallow accoutrements, I felt a teeny bit guilty again, so I washed the bathroom floors. I almost swayed too far left and cleaned out the medicine cabinet, a job that I have not attempted since we have moved into our home, a mere eight years ago. (awe come on, you go check the dates on your jar of Vicks, come on, I’ll wait, I bet there isn’t an expiration date ON it – we’re good here for another year or so) While waiting for the floor to dry, I decided to post this day’s journal of sorts, duties then all done, except for the nice dinner I’ll prepare, and then I’ll just read the rest of the day away. (And dream of my conjoined twin sister, no less) tah tah.
So, my plans awash with the overcast light, I had really scheduled the day off to commit myself to a consult with a hand surgeon on the cyst that has plagued my right ring finger-mid knuckle for about eight years. Eight years of wiggling the tiny pea like cyst back and forth, painlessly, fiddling with it as if I could magically hide it under the muscle and suddenly, very suddenly in fact, I started to feel sharp pains shooting up the nerve in the finger. Only when I wanted to grasp my hot coffee mug, book tucked under my arm, something or other in my left hand, to suddenly feel this sharp pain and loose the strength of my tight grasp, coffee cup now askew sending dollops of hot brew onto the floor, did this bother me, even slightly. A few weeks ago my knuckle swollen and red, my little cyst friend was really acting up, so much so that it kept me awake at night, pulsating. I scheduled this consult to see what he could do, knowing he would want to whack it off, but hoping he could recommend some nice cyst-be-gone cream to rub on it.
So, I’m driving up and down the side street off Broadway in a professional complex, searching for this surgeon’s office, nearly late. I found the office, barely being able to see through the rain soaked windshield, the drops started to pelt it faster and faster. I love me some time off.
The good dr. took a fascinating x-ray, determined that he would like to try to aspirate it, and froze my finger, poking around in it, trying to burst the cyst. It would not cooperate with this plan. I have to schedule another day off, to have it surgically removed, if I want to, but he recommends I do so while it’s still small. Trying to type to all of you has been a challenge, but one that is well worth it!
So, I’m out of said appointment at around 9:30 a.m. A long rain soaked afternoon stretching before me. I decided to pay Sears a visit, because my almost new front loading washer is malfunctioning; only using the very hottest of water in both the wash/rinse cycle of any cycle that you choose. This is wrecking havoc on my fine washables, deeply imbedding wrinkles into all of my slacks that will not be ironed out! I found the ladies at Sears so helpful, and scheduled a home visit for the washer repairman. With this task accomplished, I pondered my next move and fought but did not win over that loud inner voice “Back away from the sales rack lady”, I heard in a tone so unbecoming a true “lady” shopper.
“Back away and hand over your debit card”!
“Um, no”, I replied. And then I sashayed away with a smart pair of bronze shoes (reduced to 9.99), a nice new pair of black slacks and a blouse with satin, cut out flowers around the rounded neckline. Oooooh. And I bought another smart outfit at another store, and then at another store I bought a pair of my favorite pair of pants on SALE for $17, but when I went to pay for them, I got another 20% off just for stopping by on a rainy day. My day is shaping up! I bought a few items for Christmas gifts, as I am prone to do, to fend off the guilt only shopping carnage can bring, by stocking up on gifts for others, it works, don’t knock it, and then I headed for the car. Except I had to walk by the book store to do so, the very book store that I still have a gift card for (Thank you Adam, I LOVE it) and as one addict supported by an enabling son is prone to do, I bought more books. OK, my husband just said last night that I needed to donate some of the stacks of books that are piled in double rows in my bookshelf, but I didn’t want to tell him that those are the very stacks that I have not read yet. I’m waiting for a rainy day.
I bought only two books, one about a 40 year old woman who can’t have a child and her husband has an affair and gets his mistress pregnant, and the other a book about two sisters, who are conjoined twins! Drama!
I came home and tried on the clothes I just purchased. Perfect fit! I checked the tags, and damn, sure enough, they were made in CHINA! (read prior post! I told y'all so!) I tucked them away, carefully hidden in the closet (so as not to attract the attention of the clothes police, my husband, the sergeant of THAT police force) and in celebration heated up the left over carton of Chinese chicken fried rice and ate while reading the first two chapters of the book of sisters…this is really shaping up into a self indulged “me” day.
After I finished chapter three and a Hershey bar that I’d been saving for S’mores, but decided to forego the graham cracker and marshmallow accoutrements, I felt a teeny bit guilty again, so I washed the bathroom floors. I almost swayed too far left and cleaned out the medicine cabinet, a job that I have not attempted since we have moved into our home, a mere eight years ago. (awe come on, you go check the dates on your jar of Vicks, come on, I’ll wait, I bet there isn’t an expiration date ON it – we’re good here for another year or so) While waiting for the floor to dry, I decided to post this day’s journal of sorts, duties then all done, except for the nice dinner I’ll prepare, and then I’ll just read the rest of the day away. (And dream of my conjoined twin sister, no less) tah tah.
Sunday, August 31, 2008
I Love Me Some Buffaloed Chicken…B'not Buffalo Pie
There was a cry for help posted by: Swistle for a Blog buddy Michelle, who needs recipes for her son’s special needs school fund raiser recipe book and below is my response.
These are two test-kitchen tested TASTY recipes that I could/have eaten with delight and GUMPTION dag-gone-it! Easy, tasty and sure to delight the family or friends or co-workers that you serve em up to. Both have the taste of Hooters Hot Wings without the boobs. If you love you some boobs, serve these braless, for an Extra Martha Stewart Panache.
Buffalo Wing Dip
2 (8oz.) packages Cream Cheese
2 (10 oz.) cans Hormel canned Chicken (I use chicken breast 95% fat free can’t you tell!)
1 cup Ranch Dressing
1 cup shredded Cheddar Cheese
Red Cayenne Pepper (as much as you’d like or care to stand)
Soften cream cheese al a microwave, drain chicken, and mix all ingredients together. Let dip sit overnight so that Cayenne Pepper permeates the mix well. But you don’t HAVE to if pressed for time. Place into a crock pot to warm, sprinkle with additional cheese and serve with crispy tortilla chips.
Buffalo Dip
1 lb. chicken (cooked and shredded-again I use breasts…see a pattern here?)
Frank’s Buffalo sauce (Hot)
Lg. cream cheese
Celery (about 4-5 stalks is good)
Marie’s blue cheese dressing
12 oz. mozzarella cheese
Layer cream cheese, boiled celery (just to soften it – drain real well), shredded chicken, blue cheese dressing in a glass 9”X 13” baking dish. Top with jar of Buffalo sauce and mozzarella cheese. Bake at 350 degrees for around 20 minutes. Serve with tortilla chips.
Both of these are a favorite of guys. Guys love them some Hot Spicy food, just like their women. Hey, cook some up for this Labor Day weekend! I think I will too, if you don't mind and if any of you care to contribute to Michelle’s quest it’d be greatly appreciated.
These are two test-kitchen tested TASTY recipes that I could/have eaten with delight and GUMPTION dag-gone-it! Easy, tasty and sure to delight the family or friends or co-workers that you serve em up to. Both have the taste of Hooters Hot Wings without the boobs. If you love you some boobs, serve these braless, for an Extra Martha Stewart Panache.
Buffalo Wing Dip
2 (8oz.) packages Cream Cheese
2 (10 oz.) cans Hormel canned Chicken (I use chicken breast 95% fat free can’t you tell!)
1 cup Ranch Dressing
1 cup shredded Cheddar Cheese
Red Cayenne Pepper (as much as you’d like or care to stand)
Soften cream cheese al a microwave, drain chicken, and mix all ingredients together. Let dip sit overnight so that Cayenne Pepper permeates the mix well. But you don’t HAVE to if pressed for time. Place into a crock pot to warm, sprinkle with additional cheese and serve with crispy tortilla chips.
Buffalo Dip
1 lb. chicken (cooked and shredded-again I use breasts…see a pattern here?)
Frank’s Buffalo sauce (Hot)
Lg. cream cheese
Celery (about 4-5 stalks is good)
Marie’s blue cheese dressing
12 oz. mozzarella cheese
Layer cream cheese, boiled celery (just to soften it – drain real well), shredded chicken, blue cheese dressing in a glass 9”X 13” baking dish. Top with jar of Buffalo sauce and mozzarella cheese. Bake at 350 degrees for around 20 minutes. Serve with tortilla chips.
Both of these are a favorite of guys. Guys love them some Hot Spicy food, just like their women. Hey, cook some up for this Labor Day weekend! I think I will too, if you don't mind and if any of you care to contribute to Michelle’s quest it’d be greatly appreciated.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Hugs
Have you ever realized that you wanted something, um, but didn’t know what it was and then realize that it was something very simple. You just wanted, no, needed a hug.
Physical contact with intimacy thrown in – a hug.
Nope, I never really knew.
My current husband gives great hugs. He envelopes you in strong arms and squeezes just right and suddenly all is right with the world, time stops and you feel how much he loves and appreciates who you are and everything is forgiven and forgotten and you are in the here and now and it’s swell and real and nice. It’s a genuine hug.
I remember giving those same type hugs to my children. The babies and the toddlers, and as they grew I’d sit beside their bed at night, tucking them in, singing them songs, listening to them recant their childlike days of “who said what to whom” and “what is tomorrow going to bring” and on and on. I’d kiss their cheeks and hug them tight. Or the times I’d sit in the evening, after they had been bathed and ready for bed and invariably one of them would crawl up into my lap, their head still damp from that bath and their homemade pajamas all moist, smelling of Mr. Bubble, they would hug me tight and nestle on my lap. Safe and sound, all loving and everything was forgiven and all the past forgotten and they are snuggled in the here and now and it’s genuine and nice and swell.
I wasn’t raised with kisses and hugs as a way of greeting, and only as a small child at bedtime did we kiss our mother and father. As I grew, those times lessened, and then almost disappeared. I married, starting my own family, and I married a man who was also not comfortable with the PDA (public displays of affection) but we could hug and squeeze those kids to a pulp.
I was 23 years old, the mother of a three year old, a one year old and three months pregnant with my third child when my father (age 54!) suffered a massive heart attack that left him in a coma, on a ventilator with no possibility of recovery. I remember standing at the foot of his bed in the ICU, watching the pump of the vent push air into his lungs, whooshing and pumping, his chest heaving with unnatural breath sounds. I glanced at the tubes and the bags attached to him, and standing beside me a small nun had slipped into the room. She stated that it would be okay if I wanted to touch him, to hug or kiss him. I was frozen in thought. I really wanted to. I really wanted to say, Daddy don’t leave! I watched his strong, tanned hands, and wanted to grasp them. But I didn’t do so in life, and it was uncomfortable in death, so I did nothing. The moment passed. Later I stroked his forehead, and whispered so no one could hear me, except him, and said, “please come back, those babies are waiting for you Pops, Adam and Sarah are waiting”, and then I left.
I always regretted not kissing or hugging him as he lay there dying, but it felt so unnatural to do so, when mostly you only hugged small children.
Then I met my current husband. I think he’d hug the mailman. He hugs everyone. I saw him hug my then teenaged children, and they hugged him back. He hugs in greetings and he hugs in joy and he hugs in comfort and he hugs for no.good.reason. In his family, everyone hugs and kisses when you enter and when you leave. They are genuine, they are casual with it. It’s no big deal. I saw him hug my mother, who was so uncomfortable. He hugged her repeatedly over the years and now she extends her arms, stands up to receive him; I wonder if she’s hugging back, but I know she is. I hug her more easily now too, and she hugs me back. Hell, I hug everyone now. I feel the need to show the people in my life. I love you, I accept you, I forgive you, I hope you forgive me. It’s just a hug. But it means so much. Hug me back, damn it. Did I forget anyone? No, you there, don’t you get away, I’m going to hug you. X X X X X
My son, he won’t hug back, my girls are hesitant, but they’ll hug me back. They are a work in progress, and someday they’ll understand completely. I hug their husbands, and I hug my stepchildren.
I thank my husband for that, this hugging thing among the other gifts he brings. And when I feel the need, I ask him for a hug. No reason, but to feel his strong arms around me, to make time stop, to feel his heartbeat, and all is well and right with the world as we know it. I thank his parents for teaching that skill to him, for teaching him to openly show his acceptance and affection for everyone in his life. And for showing that to me.
Physical contact with intimacy thrown in – a hug.
Nope, I never really knew.
My current husband gives great hugs. He envelopes you in strong arms and squeezes just right and suddenly all is right with the world, time stops and you feel how much he loves and appreciates who you are and everything is forgiven and forgotten and you are in the here and now and it’s swell and real and nice. It’s a genuine hug.
I remember giving those same type hugs to my children. The babies and the toddlers, and as they grew I’d sit beside their bed at night, tucking them in, singing them songs, listening to them recant their childlike days of “who said what to whom” and “what is tomorrow going to bring” and on and on. I’d kiss their cheeks and hug them tight. Or the times I’d sit in the evening, after they had been bathed and ready for bed and invariably one of them would crawl up into my lap, their head still damp from that bath and their homemade pajamas all moist, smelling of Mr. Bubble, they would hug me tight and nestle on my lap. Safe and sound, all loving and everything was forgiven and all the past forgotten and they are snuggled in the here and now and it’s genuine and nice and swell.
I wasn’t raised with kisses and hugs as a way of greeting, and only as a small child at bedtime did we kiss our mother and father. As I grew, those times lessened, and then almost disappeared. I married, starting my own family, and I married a man who was also not comfortable with the PDA (public displays of affection) but we could hug and squeeze those kids to a pulp.
I was 23 years old, the mother of a three year old, a one year old and three months pregnant with my third child when my father (age 54!) suffered a massive heart attack that left him in a coma, on a ventilator with no possibility of recovery. I remember standing at the foot of his bed in the ICU, watching the pump of the vent push air into his lungs, whooshing and pumping, his chest heaving with unnatural breath sounds. I glanced at the tubes and the bags attached to him, and standing beside me a small nun had slipped into the room. She stated that it would be okay if I wanted to touch him, to hug or kiss him. I was frozen in thought. I really wanted to. I really wanted to say, Daddy don’t leave! I watched his strong, tanned hands, and wanted to grasp them. But I didn’t do so in life, and it was uncomfortable in death, so I did nothing. The moment passed. Later I stroked his forehead, and whispered so no one could hear me, except him, and said, “please come back, those babies are waiting for you Pops, Adam and Sarah are waiting”, and then I left.
I always regretted not kissing or hugging him as he lay there dying, but it felt so unnatural to do so, when mostly you only hugged small children.
Then I met my current husband. I think he’d hug the mailman. He hugs everyone. I saw him hug my then teenaged children, and they hugged him back. He hugs in greetings and he hugs in joy and he hugs in comfort and he hugs for no.good.reason. In his family, everyone hugs and kisses when you enter and when you leave. They are genuine, they are casual with it. It’s no big deal. I saw him hug my mother, who was so uncomfortable. He hugged her repeatedly over the years and now she extends her arms, stands up to receive him; I wonder if she’s hugging back, but I know she is. I hug her more easily now too, and she hugs me back. Hell, I hug everyone now. I feel the need to show the people in my life. I love you, I accept you, I forgive you, I hope you forgive me. It’s just a hug. But it means so much. Hug me back, damn it. Did I forget anyone? No, you there, don’t you get away, I’m going to hug you. X X X X X
My son, he won’t hug back, my girls are hesitant, but they’ll hug me back. They are a work in progress, and someday they’ll understand completely. I hug their husbands, and I hug my stepchildren.
I thank my husband for that, this hugging thing among the other gifts he brings. And when I feel the need, I ask him for a hug. No reason, but to feel his strong arms around me, to make time stop, to feel his heartbeat, and all is well and right with the world as we know it. I thank his parents for teaching that skill to him, for teaching him to openly show his acceptance and affection for everyone in his life. And for showing that to me.
Wednesday, August 27, 2008
If the Pants zip, WEAR EM
The package arrived in a timely manner. Underneath the plastic wrapping were three fall additions to my wardrobe. Suits that were chosen for their color, cost and I am embarrassed to admit, their size, which is one size larger than the rest of their closet companions. My ego bruised enough at the failed attempt to lose the few pounds necessary to keep the rest of my wardrobe comfortable, I had to give in, and order a few new pieces to wear to work. It is with deep regret and sorrow I find I must write the letter below. Aw, who am I kidding – it’s time that the garment industry pays for it’s crimes on humanity namely WOMEN of FASHION!
Dear Fashion Garment Industry:
While I find it endearing that you seek to bring exciting and fashionable clothing into my life by sending catalogs to my home, please allow me to recant to you my personal experience, some might say “woes”, as of late.
Trying to introduce a few casual suits into my wardrobe, I ordered three very similar styles of two piece suits in a rayon blend, size 14. (Those of you who know me, please don’t gasp here) They arrived in a neatly packaged plastic bag, individually cased in clear plastic wrap. Before I placed them onto hangers, I tried them on. Reluctantly, I might add, although I saved myself the embarrassment of yet another brightly lit and mirror tainted department store dressing room.
Of the three suits I ordered, all the same size, one suit fit nicely, one too tight, and one suit’s pants wouldn’t zip.
Isn’t it enough that Americans are experiencing large increases in food costs, we are gouged at the pump for gasoline and now, the Guatamalian sweat shop laborers have “punked” us by creating the façade of yet another hike in my weight. By creating pants in a willy, nilly fashion to cause a frenzy of terror among unsuspecting American women. I know, I know, the $1.25 a day you pay the sweet sweat shop girls to deliver the goods directly to my doorstep isn’t nearly enough to avenge my cries of “Unfair”. I beg, I swear, I’m trying to get down in these too tight pants, to my knees to beg of you…send the garments to CHINA!
Why China you may ask? Because I searched my closet and that of other trendsetters in my social circle and our well made, really well fitting clothes (although the price drastically is increased!) are made not in Guatamala, or Vietnam, or even in Haiti, nope, China does it good!
“Made in China” is what I found on the tag of my favorite black Ellen Tracy suit. (that and Dry Clean Only) Made in China on my Chico’s, Made in China written sideway’s on my Dana Buchman jacket and skirts and even on the cute pink shell with the fitted waist. I think maybe the Chinese not only create good Olympian’s but their ready to wear fits me well, is durable and stylish. So, while I order another bucket of chicken fried rice and veggies, order me up some new fall Made in China stuff m’kay? Oh, and by the way don’t bother with the catalogs filled with pages of polyester pantsuits in “Guess My Size”.
Sincerely,
RWS
Ok, so maybe they aren't geniuses with thier choice of haberdashery, but dog gone it, swords as accessories are Kick Ass!Dear Fashion Garment Industry:
While I find it endearing that you seek to bring exciting and fashionable clothing into my life by sending catalogs to my home, please allow me to recant to you my personal experience, some might say “woes”, as of late.
Trying to introduce a few casual suits into my wardrobe, I ordered three very similar styles of two piece suits in a rayon blend, size 14. (Those of you who know me, please don’t gasp here) They arrived in a neatly packaged plastic bag, individually cased in clear plastic wrap. Before I placed them onto hangers, I tried them on. Reluctantly, I might add, although I saved myself the embarrassment of yet another brightly lit and mirror tainted department store dressing room.
Of the three suits I ordered, all the same size, one suit fit nicely, one too tight, and one suit’s pants wouldn’t zip.
Isn’t it enough that Americans are experiencing large increases in food costs, we are gouged at the pump for gasoline and now, the Guatamalian sweat shop laborers have “punked” us by creating the façade of yet another hike in my weight. By creating pants in a willy, nilly fashion to cause a frenzy of terror among unsuspecting American women. I know, I know, the $1.25 a day you pay the sweet sweat shop girls to deliver the goods directly to my doorstep isn’t nearly enough to avenge my cries of “Unfair”. I beg, I swear, I’m trying to get down in these too tight pants, to my knees to beg of you…send the garments to CHINA!
Why China you may ask? Because I searched my closet and that of other trendsetters in my social circle and our well made, really well fitting clothes (although the price drastically is increased!) are made not in Guatamala, or Vietnam, or even in Haiti, nope, China does it good!
“Made in China” is what I found on the tag of my favorite black Ellen Tracy suit. (that and Dry Clean Only) Made in China on my Chico’s, Made in China written sideway’s on my Dana Buchman jacket and skirts and even on the cute pink shell with the fitted waist. I think maybe the Chinese not only create good Olympian’s but their ready to wear fits me well, is durable and stylish. So, while I order another bucket of chicken fried rice and veggies, order me up some new fall Made in China stuff m’kay? Oh, and by the way don’t bother with the catalogs filled with pages of polyester pantsuits in “Guess My Size”.
Sincerely,
RWS
Movie Madness or Tuesday Night Boredom - You Choose
Abba Lovers UNITE!
I hate to burst your bubbles, and perhaps all of you have more sense than I on a Tuesday evening, what with riveting speeches from the Democratic Convention clogging up the television airwaves, than to pack up your purse with candy from the corner drugstore and head on out with an ABBA loving friend to see Mama Mia like I did last evening.
Wow I think that was three sentences-sorry, but I’ve come off my sugar rush last night and I’m really low, almost a sugar coma…so I wont’ be spell checking or fixing any sentences today suckahs. Deal with it.
I ate a whole box of Junior Mints, and ½ a bag of buttered popcorn - and that was during the previews. My friend and I? We were the only two people in the theatre. All night.
My Tuesday night girlfriends have taken a break. They thought that because several of us have children who have just started school, and some have started new jobs, that it has been hectic and we should take a break for awhile. I’ve really got nothing going on. I’m not ashamed to admit it, it’s the lazy daze of summer! Anyway, my Abba crazed friend and I decided that we’d do a girls night trek out to the “theatre” and see Mama Mia so here’s a movie review for you.
DON’T DO IT.
There, I’ve said it. I would like to keep Pierce Brosnan's image forever safe inside of my tiny fantasy mind as a hot, suave James Bond type with a swift wit and a smirk to his knowing smile. That vision has been blown away forever, since my ears were assaulted by his off key bellowing baritone trying to sing Abba tunes. Alls I can say (as I shake my head sadly) is that his son’s must need college money now that Remington Steele hasn’t been cycling in syndication. And my lady Meryl Streep, although she can sing, was miscast in this flat character (I’ve moved onto Milk Duds and Diet Root Beer at this point) that no one cannot connect to or bond with. The scenery is BEAU-ti-ful, luring me, wantint me to pack up and spend the rest of my summer in Greece, but beyond that and the sassy young leading actress who plays her daughter, the movie was flat and dragged by even for those on a sugar high. I think that Abba is taking legal action – or should if they hadn’t thought about it, the songs were so unappealing.
So, before you have to sing “S.O.S. darling, can’t you hear me, S.O.S.” , I say, don’t bother. Although, I must say, the company and the Swedish Fish were an interesting Tuesday night dinner for me!
I hate to burst your bubbles, and perhaps all of you have more sense than I on a Tuesday evening, what with riveting speeches from the Democratic Convention clogging up the television airwaves, than to pack up your purse with candy from the corner drugstore and head on out with an ABBA loving friend to see Mama Mia like I did last evening.
Wow I think that was three sentences-sorry, but I’ve come off my sugar rush last night and I’m really low, almost a sugar coma…so I wont’ be spell checking or fixing any sentences today suckahs. Deal with it.
I ate a whole box of Junior Mints, and ½ a bag of buttered popcorn - and that was during the previews. My friend and I? We were the only two people in the theatre. All night.
My Tuesday night girlfriends have taken a break. They thought that because several of us have children who have just started school, and some have started new jobs, that it has been hectic and we should take a break for awhile. I’ve really got nothing going on. I’m not ashamed to admit it, it’s the lazy daze of summer! Anyway, my Abba crazed friend and I decided that we’d do a girls night trek out to the “theatre” and see Mama Mia so here’s a movie review for you.
DON’T DO IT.
There, I’ve said it. I would like to keep Pierce Brosnan's image forever safe inside of my tiny fantasy mind as a hot, suave James Bond type with a swift wit and a smirk to his knowing smile. That vision has been blown away forever, since my ears were assaulted by his off key bellowing baritone trying to sing Abba tunes. Alls I can say (as I shake my head sadly) is that his son’s must need college money now that Remington Steele hasn’t been cycling in syndication. And my lady Meryl Streep, although she can sing, was miscast in this flat character (I’ve moved onto Milk Duds and Diet Root Beer at this point) that no one cannot connect to or bond with. The scenery is BEAU-ti-ful, luring me, wantint me to pack up and spend the rest of my summer in Greece, but beyond that and the sassy young leading actress who plays her daughter, the movie was flat and dragged by even for those on a sugar high. I think that Abba is taking legal action – or should if they hadn’t thought about it, the songs were so unappealing.
So, before you have to sing “S.O.S. darling, can’t you hear me, S.O.S.” , I say, don’t bother. Although, I must say, the company and the Swedish Fish were an interesting Tuesday night dinner for me!
Friday, August 22, 2008
Friday's Fun Facts
So, Yeah, TGIF my dear internet friends.
Fun Facts coming from my DAY OFF! But you won't be seeing me doing any bike riding, or gardening, or lazing around by the pool or skeet shooting or 10K running or any such thing that would require the great outdoors to be free of THUNDERSHOWERS. Yeah, all my days off are jinxed by rain or thundershowers. It's almost as if I scheduled a vacation. When the hubby and I schedule a vacation away from home it almost always rains. Just a fact for you.
*It not only rained each.and.every.day of our honeymoon, I also had my monthly "visitor". Oh, yeah, fun was had by all.
*It rained when we went to ARIZONA, who was in the middle of a draught (aren't they always?) and the whole state thanked us because the cactuses (cactusi?) started to bloom and there were critters and grass on the prairies and desert. You're welcome AZ.
*Last month's day off I planned a blueberry picking day with my Little Miss of a granddaughter...It rained and thunderstormed. All.Day.
*It rained on our trip to Shenandoah State Park so hard that the Shenandoah River itself was near to flooding the area where we were holed up in a little bajillion year old B&B. (with no TV).
Fill in the blanks here_________ with what you think we did those four days.
*I think I'll work up a whopping Yah-Whoo and go and get my driver's license renewed today. Yah-Whoo. Hold down the excitement. Although I can't hear you over the crashing thunder. I will again lie about my weight as expected. What does your license say? How old were you when you weighed that?
*Although this rain is good for the garden and flowers, I'm done gardening in the tomato plants I put out. I found a HUGE green tomato worm eating my little tomato's the other day. I put a plastic bag over the sucker and cut the branch off to suffocate that tresspasser to his smothery death. Have you ever seen one of those creepy things? Sworn me off collecting tomato's from those scrawny plants. They are camouflaged by their green-ness. For the Bug Challenged it's not pretty.
That's it for my Friday facts...later dudes.
Fun Facts coming from my DAY OFF! But you won't be seeing me doing any bike riding, or gardening, or lazing around by the pool or skeet shooting or 10K running or any such thing that would require the great outdoors to be free of THUNDERSHOWERS. Yeah, all my days off are jinxed by rain or thundershowers. It's almost as if I scheduled a vacation. When the hubby and I schedule a vacation away from home it almost always rains. Just a fact for you.
*It not only rained each.and.every.day of our honeymoon, I also had my monthly "visitor". Oh, yeah, fun was had by all.
*It rained when we went to ARIZONA, who was in the middle of a draught (aren't they always?) and the whole state thanked us because the cactuses (cactusi?) started to bloom and there were critters and grass on the prairies and desert. You're welcome AZ.
*Last month's day off I planned a blueberry picking day with my Little Miss of a granddaughter...It rained and thunderstormed. All.Day.
*It rained on our trip to Shenandoah State Park so hard that the Shenandoah River itself was near to flooding the area where we were holed up in a little bajillion year old B&B. (with no TV).
Fill in the blanks here_________ with what you think we did those four days.
*I think I'll work up a whopping Yah-Whoo and go and get my driver's license renewed today. Yah-Whoo. Hold down the excitement. Although I can't hear you over the crashing thunder. I will again lie about my weight as expected. What does your license say? How old were you when you weighed that?
*Although this rain is good for the garden and flowers, I'm done gardening in the tomato plants I put out. I found a HUGE green tomato worm eating my little tomato's the other day. I put a plastic bag over the sucker and cut the branch off to suffocate that tresspasser to his smothery death. Have you ever seen one of those creepy things? Sworn me off collecting tomato's from those scrawny plants. They are camouflaged by their green-ness. For the Bug Challenged it's not pretty.
That's it for my Friday facts...later dudes.
Thursday, August 21, 2008
***NEW FEATURE****Oddball Thursdays or Deep Thoughts
Congratulations to New Daddy – Ricky Martin!
Seems Ole Ricky decided to start his family using a surrogate and through means of insemination became the proud father of twin boys!
Well, honestly, isn’t that a nice surprise? Let me just say…
Come out, come out, wherever you are Ricky…
(I mean I’m just sayin…OH Y’all know you were thinkin it too!!! Settle down, is anyone surprised? First George Michaels now Ricky)
Another odd little item.
I bought some Icebreaker Mints, in this round container
Notice how they are encouraging good manners? One opening is labeled "to share", the other opening, "not to share". I sure hope whomever you share with washes their hands! Was this a reflection of proper upbringing or rather genius marketing? If one shares said mints, they might disappear faster, hence good mints go out among the mass population in a MASS marketing idea of the CENTURY! (sorry, I’m hung up lately on the word CENTURY!)
½ a century.
Not much going on lately, hence the deep thoughts above.
Wednesday, August 20, 2008
Are You "Right" for Me?
I have a long, arduous history with interviewing candidates for various positions in the organizations that I have worked for. I have studied personality quirks, took a semester or two in “Reading In-Between the Lines” and “How to Read Body Language” (part one and part two – one in normal behaviors and one in psychotic!, came in handy once or twice)
But here’s the deal. It’s really like shooting craps. I have a set of dice in my desk drawer that I roll every time I want to make an offer to a prospective candidate. There are so many things I’d like to ask, things that are not relevant to the job at all.
Me: What’s your favorite color?
Me: Who cuts your hair?
Me: Describe to me your relationship with your mother.
Me: Are you pregnant? (Thinking of becoming pregnant?)
Me: If you cross a penguin with a pelican what do you get?
Me: Coke or Pepsi?
Me: On a scale of 1-10, 10 being the highest, what do you think of my new shoes?
I’ve thought about it, and feel that it is STILL a crap shoot. Everyone (including moi) puts on a happy, intelligent front when interviewing for a position that you relish. We all “fake” it somewhat and embellish our tiny accomplishments and assets. (Although I recently interview someone who embellished her assets with a tight purple sweater and push up bra, let me just say The Girls were in Line)
I’ve tried all types of questions to bring out a best in a shy and quiet type. I quieted the loud and aggressive types. I’ve made some cry when I ask a simple “from whom have you learned the most?” (two people to be exact, so I quite stating it that way)
I’ve had some come in, shake my hand, and then announce, “Hi, I’m So and So, I’m a religious fanatic”. SWEAR!
I had one woman come for the interview and hawk a book she was writing on line, told me that she would wait while I read a bit of it. Um, not at this time.
So, I go for a round in the next month or so of trying to fill a newly created position and I’m up for the challenge. Ready as pie. In I’ll go with my Tarot cards and Ouija Board. I’ll light candles, offer coffee and perhaps a massage. Still, all in all, I’ll toss the dice in the end.
But here’s the deal. It’s really like shooting craps. I have a set of dice in my desk drawer that I roll every time I want to make an offer to a prospective candidate. There are so many things I’d like to ask, things that are not relevant to the job at all.
Me: What’s your favorite color?
Me: Who cuts your hair?
Me: Describe to me your relationship with your mother.
Me: Are you pregnant? (Thinking of becoming pregnant?)
Me: If you cross a penguin with a pelican what do you get?
Me: Coke or Pepsi?
Me: On a scale of 1-10, 10 being the highest, what do you think of my new shoes?
I’ve thought about it, and feel that it is STILL a crap shoot. Everyone (including moi) puts on a happy, intelligent front when interviewing for a position that you relish. We all “fake” it somewhat and embellish our tiny accomplishments and assets. (Although I recently interview someone who embellished her assets with a tight purple sweater and push up bra, let me just say The Girls were in Line)
I’ve tried all types of questions to bring out a best in a shy and quiet type. I quieted the loud and aggressive types. I’ve made some cry when I ask a simple “from whom have you learned the most?” (two people to be exact, so I quite stating it that way)
I’ve had some come in, shake my hand, and then announce, “Hi, I’m So and So, I’m a religious fanatic”. SWEAR!
I had one woman come for the interview and hawk a book she was writing on line, told me that she would wait while I read a bit of it. Um, not at this time.
So, I go for a round in the next month or so of trying to fill a newly created position and I’m up for the challenge. Ready as pie. In I’ll go with my Tarot cards and Ouija Board. I’ll light candles, offer coffee and perhaps a massage. Still, all in all, I’ll toss the dice in the end.
Tuesday, August 19, 2008
Sorry About the Blog Lag
Please forgive me my new posts....work is crazy with our internal audit taking place. Perhaps I'll be able to poke fun at our senior citizen surveyor at another time. Until then-carry on, and keep checking back, I'll be back soon.Fade to serious face and posture....
Friday, August 15, 2008
Fun Fact Friday-Olympic Style
*I started walking 3.5 miles every evening, and day 4-blew my kneecap out of line “warming up”. I blame the influence of the Olympics.
*Does anyone besides me sit down in the evening to catch up on the daily Olympic activities and A: doze or fall completely into a deep R.E.M. sleep over Bob Costas voice. B: Examine the recesses of your brain for any semblance of memory on who the hell the “Guest Olympian Commentaries” are and what sport they came from? (I mean GAH, I had to Google Mary Carrillo…I’m so Olympically Challenged – turns out she’s a former tennis player turned sports commentator - hence the fashionably challenged wardrobe and hair!)
* Does anyone else want to give Bob Costas a proper suit and tie and a good haircut? And ask Stacy and Clinton from What Not To Wear to make over Mary Carrillo? It's just me, crap. I'm judgemental. Or mental. I want some chocolate.
*I was watching the Olympic Gold Chinese "women" athletes as the commentators and reporters circled their waiting camp and I swear I saw them playing with Polly Pockets. Anyone else?
*I really am fascinated by the padded spring mat that the Gymnasts perform on, when I was an Non Olympic gymnast in my Jr. High and Senior High days, we had a hard floor with a ¾" sponge mat to flip to our death on. This one looks fun and supportive of all the leaping and bouncing right into a double back handspring. Ahhh technology.
*For all the technology and vanity that we are seeing in the Chinese (just like home, really....) they really need some deep hair conditioner. They have really bad haircuts too. And could someone take away the glitter gel from the gymnasts? I long for a Mary Lou haircut, those slicked back, sprayed on pony tails make the girls look dirty.
*Did anybody see the guy who won a silver medal on Tuesday for something like skeet shooting and they showed him bowed down weeping like a 6 year old on the Naughty Chair in an episode of Super Nanny? I told my Mr. “are those tears of joy? Or is he upset with winning the Silver?”
*Don’t you love it when they show the not-so-popular events like, bow and arrow and hoola hooping? It makes me feel like I could eventually Go For the Gold in Corn Hole competition (Women’s only) I mean, with practice....Come on PEOPLE, I’m just sayin….
*To conclude my portrayal of my athletic prowess on this Fun Friday, I must say, I recently joined a sistah on her brand new Wii Fit, and Wii Rocked! The competition was fierce (her 6 year old) and I totally blew out the record for hoola hooping and dodging shoes and Panda’s in the soccer event. Tight rope walking? No prob, I’m a champ. Now when I find an extra $300 I’ll Bii Fit!
*Does anyone besides me sit down in the evening to catch up on the daily Olympic activities and A: doze or fall completely into a deep R.E.M. sleep over Bob Costas voice. B: Examine the recesses of your brain for any semblance of memory on who the hell the “Guest Olympian Commentaries” are and what sport they came from? (I mean GAH, I had to Google Mary Carrillo…I’m so Olympically Challenged – turns out she’s a former tennis player turned sports commentator - hence the fashionably challenged wardrobe and hair!)
* Does anyone else want to give Bob Costas a proper suit and tie and a good haircut? And ask Stacy and Clinton from What Not To Wear to make over Mary Carrillo? It's just me, crap. I'm judgemental. Or mental. I want some chocolate.
*I was watching the Olympic Gold Chinese "women" athletes as the commentators and reporters circled their waiting camp and I swear I saw them playing with Polly Pockets. Anyone else?
*I really am fascinated by the padded spring mat that the Gymnasts perform on, when I was an Non Olympic gymnast in my Jr. High and Senior High days, we had a hard floor with a ¾" sponge mat to flip to our death on. This one looks fun and supportive of all the leaping and bouncing right into a double back handspring. Ahhh technology.
*For all the technology and vanity that we are seeing in the Chinese (just like home, really....) they really need some deep hair conditioner. They have really bad haircuts too. And could someone take away the glitter gel from the gymnasts? I long for a Mary Lou haircut, those slicked back, sprayed on pony tails make the girls look dirty.
*Did anybody see the guy who won a silver medal on Tuesday for something like skeet shooting and they showed him bowed down weeping like a 6 year old on the Naughty Chair in an episode of Super Nanny? I told my Mr. “are those tears of joy? Or is he upset with winning the Silver?”
*Don’t you love it when they show the not-so-popular events like, bow and arrow and hoola hooping? It makes me feel like I could eventually Go For the Gold in Corn Hole competition (Women’s only) I mean, with practice....Come on PEOPLE, I’m just sayin….
*To conclude my portrayal of my athletic prowess on this Fun Friday, I must say, I recently joined a sistah on her brand new Wii Fit, and Wii Rocked! The competition was fierce (her 6 year old) and I totally blew out the record for hoola hooping and dodging shoes and Panda’s in the soccer event. Tight rope walking? No prob, I’m a champ. Now when I find an extra $300 I’ll Bii Fit!
Thursday, August 14, 2008
I'm rethinking this age thing...
When my headlights pulled out of my driveway this morning, I had to turn on my windshield wipers the raindrops were starting to accumulate beyond a mere drizzle. I turned the volume up on my radio and began the trek to work. The radio announcer cleared his voice and spoke the phrase only a truly confident man can, “There is no chance of rain in the forecast today, highs are in the upper 70’s…”
Hmmmmm, those are rain drops I see, aren’t they? Forgot, there for a second, whether or not I was fully awake. Must be that he’s special, doesn’t have to be right or wrong at work, just shows up.
Hey! You! I’m counting down now the day’s in which I will forever leave my formative years and plod the downwards path towards inexistence that we know as “old age”. But I’m starting to get used to the perks.
Oh, I’ll have tons of posts ranting on the unfairness of things like GRAVITY, and menopause and the way that the hands of time fly off the clock and down to the floor it flies by so fast. But for now, I have been psyching myself up for the big turn of the ½ century event. Five-Oh.
Perk #1. I don’t really have to hear a thing. Seems quite innocent really, speak the hell up, my dear, I can’t hear you whining, complaining, or asking me to pass you the salt or refresh your coffee or where the screwdriver is. I’m becoming hard of hearing. It was all the rock n roll of my early youth and my 30’s. I blame the WalkMan.
Perk #2. I don’t really “want” any gifts. I buy my own clothes, in fact I love to shop. I am trying to rid my home of the clutter that is the accumulation of the “stuff” that I couldn’t part with, the home décor, hobby items and kitchen gadgets that I found so interesting, but now see no need for. Simplify, simplify. Every day, throw away!
Perk #3. I’m in no big hurry. Now that may be the largest and most meaningful perk yet. I used to be a speed demon. Drove my car at a rip roaring speed, up and down the driveway! Had a little bit of road rage driving to work behind some slow poke ol lady driver going below or just at the speed limit. Guess what? THAT’S ME!
I’m in no hurry to clean the whole house on the same day, or to pay all my bills as soon as my paycheck is deposited. I no longer organize my junk drawer on a yearly basis. I’m in no hurry…no one judges me on how clean my junk drawer is anyway. I’m no hurry behind the lady with 4 pre-school aged kids in the grocery store who is taking forever to find her debit card. The kids are amusing, cute and hey, what the heck do I have to hurry home for? I’m slowing down a little. Slowing down until I stop? No, not this year, but slowing down to smell the roses I should have smelled for the last 49 years.
So, HEY YOU readers. (oh who’m I kidding? Readers plural? ) Take a chill will ya !
Hmmmmm, those are rain drops I see, aren’t they? Forgot, there for a second, whether or not I was fully awake. Must be that he’s special, doesn’t have to be right or wrong at work, just shows up.
Hey! You! I’m counting down now the day’s in which I will forever leave my formative years and plod the downwards path towards inexistence that we know as “old age”. But I’m starting to get used to the perks.
Oh, I’ll have tons of posts ranting on the unfairness of things like GRAVITY, and menopause and the way that the hands of time fly off the clock and down to the floor it flies by so fast. But for now, I have been psyching myself up for the big turn of the ½ century event. Five-Oh.
Perk #1. I don’t really have to hear a thing. Seems quite innocent really, speak the hell up, my dear, I can’t hear you whining, complaining, or asking me to pass you the salt or refresh your coffee or where the screwdriver is. I’m becoming hard of hearing. It was all the rock n roll of my early youth and my 30’s. I blame the WalkMan.
Perk #2. I don’t really “want” any gifts. I buy my own clothes, in fact I love to shop. I am trying to rid my home of the clutter that is the accumulation of the “stuff” that I couldn’t part with, the home décor, hobby items and kitchen gadgets that I found so interesting, but now see no need for. Simplify, simplify. Every day, throw away!
Perk #3. I’m in no big hurry. Now that may be the largest and most meaningful perk yet. I used to be a speed demon. Drove my car at a rip roaring speed, up and down the driveway! Had a little bit of road rage driving to work behind some slow poke ol lady driver going below or just at the speed limit. Guess what? THAT’S ME!
I’m in no hurry to clean the whole house on the same day, or to pay all my bills as soon as my paycheck is deposited. I no longer organize my junk drawer on a yearly basis. I’m in no hurry…no one judges me on how clean my junk drawer is anyway. I’m no hurry behind the lady with 4 pre-school aged kids in the grocery store who is taking forever to find her debit card. The kids are amusing, cute and hey, what the heck do I have to hurry home for? I’m slowing down a little. Slowing down until I stop? No, not this year, but slowing down to smell the roses I should have smelled for the last 49 years.
So, HEY YOU readers. (oh who’m I kidding? Readers plural? ) Take a chill will ya !
Saturday, August 9, 2008
No Passports, No Jets, No Fuss
Seems everyone has been or is on vacation this summer. Not everyone, but I suppose there are a few of us out there, are doing mounds of laundry, getting caught up on housecleaning/bill paying and escorting their homebound mother into the shower for a scrub down. I need a vacation. It’s not in the cards for awhile.
Ahhhh, sit back, have someone fix you a drink (anything poured over tequila) and deliver a superb snack slash meal that YOU DIDN’T cook! Toggling my pedicured toes in the cool sparkling water, oh, and while I’m dreaming it, I weigh 125 lbs and have on a two piece suit over my tanned, perfectly toned body.
___________________stop. __________________
Instead, I’m escaping minute by minute into this.
The Time Traveler’s Wife, By Audrey Niffennegger
It’s a weird tale of a man who is a librarian and has by some strange fluke of chromosomes the ability to time travel. He cannot control the “trips” in and about his past and future, but along the way, his adult self meets his wife who is a child, and since he is coming from the future, spends time with her as she grows up. Eventually they meet in the present time, she recognizing him, knowing all about him, and he does not know her. They fall in love and marry. Each and every day an adventure. The book is written in both their perspective’s. The time travel portion isn’t all glamorous as one may imagine (he travels with nothing, no clothes, no money and often arrives hungry, naked and nauseated). The love story is unique, the concept well written and thought out and it sucks you into it, forgetting your own surroundings. It takes place in Chicago, which is in my own front yard. So familiar, and so different in this book.
I give it two thumbs up! If you can read it on the beach, with waves splashing in your foreground – that much better!
Ahhhh, sit back, have someone fix you a drink (anything poured over tequila) and deliver a superb snack slash meal that YOU DIDN’T cook! Toggling my pedicured toes in the cool sparkling water, oh, and while I’m dreaming it, I weigh 125 lbs and have on a two piece suit over my tanned, perfectly toned body.
___________________stop. __________________
Instead, I’m escaping minute by minute into this.
The Time Traveler’s Wife, By Audrey Niffennegger
It’s a weird tale of a man who is a librarian and has by some strange fluke of chromosomes the ability to time travel. He cannot control the “trips” in and about his past and future, but along the way, his adult self meets his wife who is a child, and since he is coming from the future, spends time with her as she grows up. Eventually they meet in the present time, she recognizing him, knowing all about him, and he does not know her. They fall in love and marry. Each and every day an adventure. The book is written in both their perspective’s. The time travel portion isn’t all glamorous as one may imagine (he travels with nothing, no clothes, no money and often arrives hungry, naked and nauseated). The love story is unique, the concept well written and thought out and it sucks you into it, forgetting your own surroundings. It takes place in Chicago, which is in my own front yard. So familiar, and so different in this book.
I give it two thumbs up! If you can read it on the beach, with waves splashing in your foreground – that much better!
Friday, August 8, 2008
Resurrecting Fun Fact Friday
TGIF to you all! I need something “fun” especially on my blog if not in real life. So, I resurrected a stolen Blog Idea – Fun Fact Friday! Yeah!
*My mother made it home safely from the hospital. She’s in a weakened state, but spirits are really up now that she is home, in her own bed barking out orders to anyone who will listen. (And then apologizing for them, it’s a tad annoying, but if you have an IPod, you are totally justified in using it in this instance)
*I smelled “autumn” in the air yesterday morning. No, it’s not sharpened pencils and new crayons; it’s a cool, moist crispness in the air that signifies shortened summer days. I did smell it, smell around you all, I mean it- you will too! Don't look at me and roll your eyes, do it...you will too smell it.
*While you are all smelling, I’m noticing lately that along with all the other crap I can blame on the onset of menopause – my sense of smell is really diminishing. Don’t tell my husband or any other guy for that matter-as you can imagine the obnoxious gaseous fumes I’d have to endure.
*Sorry about the above but… Really, everybody poos. Everyone farts. Deal with it.
*Really glad it’s Friday – even though the weekend isn’t a time that I’ll be “off”. I’ve still got household chores, some moderate “nursing” and a dinner on Sunday that will be taxing at best.
*I’ve noticed that on some of my favorite blogs lately, there is a guest post – or when someone is gone on vacation, they have someone else post for them – anyone care to share? Anyone want to exchange blog ideas? Email me if you do, this would be a good idea when there are huge Writer’s Block days. That would be Cool huh? And a really good plug for each other’s blogs! Great-it’s a deal then, a dare if you will, post a comment with your email address if you want me to contact you about this blog share deal. Out of a Fun Fact Friday, a good idea arose. Hmmmmm.
*My mother made it home safely from the hospital. She’s in a weakened state, but spirits are really up now that she is home, in her own bed barking out orders to anyone who will listen. (And then apologizing for them, it’s a tad annoying, but if you have an IPod, you are totally justified in using it in this instance)
*I smelled “autumn” in the air yesterday morning. No, it’s not sharpened pencils and new crayons; it’s a cool, moist crispness in the air that signifies shortened summer days. I did smell it, smell around you all, I mean it- you will too! Don't look at me and roll your eyes, do it...you will too smell it.
*While you are all smelling, I’m noticing lately that along with all the other crap I can blame on the onset of menopause – my sense of smell is really diminishing. Don’t tell my husband or any other guy for that matter-as you can imagine the obnoxious gaseous fumes I’d have to endure.
*Sorry about the above but… Really, everybody poos. Everyone farts. Deal with it.
*Really glad it’s Friday – even though the weekend isn’t a time that I’ll be “off”. I’ve still got household chores, some moderate “nursing” and a dinner on Sunday that will be taxing at best.
*I’ve noticed that on some of my favorite blogs lately, there is a guest post – or when someone is gone on vacation, they have someone else post for them – anyone care to share? Anyone want to exchange blog ideas? Email me if you do, this would be a good idea when there are huge Writer’s Block days. That would be Cool huh? And a really good plug for each other’s blogs! Great-it’s a deal then, a dare if you will, post a comment with your email address if you want me to contact you about this blog share deal. Out of a Fun Fact Friday, a good idea arose. Hmmmmm.
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Who's on First? and Other Dramatic Discoveries
She seems confused.
I’m sick of this comment. For the simple reason, the people who mouth the comment are comfortable in their environment. No fish outta water here, Nope, they talk in medical jargon, expecting folks to understand, I do, but perhaps a scared, pissy, 78 year old woman who is afraid she’ll never be able to go home to her moldy home does not.
It just goes to prove: You really NEVER know where someone is coming from.
We are all just different enough that we connect briefly with each other, but not totally.
She is confused.
So would you be if sections of your mind were stuck in the dream land that you find so compelling. So utterly fascinating that it seems like a really great novel, captivating you enough that you don’t want to set it down. And then a portion of your mind is hollering for you to get up and have your temperature taken. Big deal.
You know she is confused.
I see and hear the weird stuff that sometimes comes out of her mouth, her eyes are not focused on your face, they are focused on the bed sheets, staring at them but not really seeing them. Confusion? Nah, she’s more absorbed in her own thoughts, her own day, her own conversations in where the subject is about her, the entire content is about her, there is no one else really. Me, me, totally Me. So the confusion really folks, is yours. Yours because you’ve no idea where she is. So when she speaks and it seems out of context, snap to it Preppy – follow along please, what the hell are you???? Confused?
Mom: I think I ordered fish tonight, I’m so hungry, I don’t know why I’m eating so much here, so much and so fast. I ordered fish, I don’t fix fish at home for myself, and their fish is really good here, I had some a few days ago. Wait until you see it.
Me: (looking up from the book I’m reading) They went upstairs to get your tray, it’ll be here soon.
Mom: I hope I ordered fish. I had pot roast for lunch, and angel food cake. I remember ordering fish, so it must be coming for dinner.
Here comes the tray, she is so excited, as if lunch wasn’t a mere 5 hours ago, as if this were a 5 ***** restaurant, as if she herself were 5.
Mom: Look Jacquelyn, (yeah, my mom calls me Jacquelyn mostly) this looks like chicken.
She asks me to cut up her salad for her and hands me the utensils, she’s getting tired now. The move to a new floor, Rehab, and the excitement of a shower, the prospect of fish…too much for her.
Mom: The chicken here is so good too. So flavorfull, so moist. It’s just that I had myself set on fish.
She looks at the slip of paper that is delivered with each meal, it’s a computer print out of what you have ordered from the hospital menu the day before. It says clearly, COD.
Mom: I did order fish, it says here COD. I hope I get Cod tomorrow, because now I have to eat this chicken when I wanted Cod.
Me: But you said the chicken was good. ( I notice she can barely talk between bites she is shoveling it in so fast)
Mom: I wonder if the Cod went to someone else and I have their chicken. They are eating my Cod. I wanted Cod. I ordered fish. The fish here is so good, and they give you a lot, two huge pieces or one big one.
Me: That’s good, eat your chicken Ma, maybe you can get fish tomorrow. The peaches look really good too. (????)
Mom: It’s just that I had my heart set on that Cod. See here, I told you I ordered Cod, I circled it yesterday. I couldn’t remember if I ordered it for lunch or for dinner, but I knew I ordered it.
The nurses asst. steps in to check on her, and asks are you settling in ok?
Mom: They didn’t bring my right tray, they gave my Cod to someone else and I had to have chicken.
Me: MOM, Let Go of the COD. You can have fish another day. This chicken was tasty and moist and good.
Mom: Oh, yeah, I know. (She nods and finishes her peaches with a renewed zeal)
Where is the confusion? There is none. Her world is so small, so contained, so precise. When she is out of her element, she is doubting herself, and she speaks it aloud. Everyone around her acts as though she isn't present, speaks about her, not to her, and speaks to me as if she isn't there. She feels that they THINK she is losing her mind. I think they pass judgement on the elderly. I think it is they who are confused and don't quite know what is going on. Their world moves at a quicker pace as caregivers, with many patients and very little time to get into the space of just one of them. Can't they see that she's not a sharp 30 year old? That her hearing is impaired, that her mind is repeating the thought again in fragments, so that she can absorb the entire thought and not forget it? And she's doing it aloud, for everyone's benefit. So that you can judge for yourself that she is full of self doubt, but bringing it right back around to victory! She is indeed correct.
Who is confused?
I’m sick of this comment. For the simple reason, the people who mouth the comment are comfortable in their environment. No fish outta water here, Nope, they talk in medical jargon, expecting folks to understand, I do, but perhaps a scared, pissy, 78 year old woman who is afraid she’ll never be able to go home to her moldy home does not.
It just goes to prove: You really NEVER know where someone is coming from.
We are all just different enough that we connect briefly with each other, but not totally.
She is confused.
So would you be if sections of your mind were stuck in the dream land that you find so compelling. So utterly fascinating that it seems like a really great novel, captivating you enough that you don’t want to set it down. And then a portion of your mind is hollering for you to get up and have your temperature taken. Big deal.
You know she is confused.
I see and hear the weird stuff that sometimes comes out of her mouth, her eyes are not focused on your face, they are focused on the bed sheets, staring at them but not really seeing them. Confusion? Nah, she’s more absorbed in her own thoughts, her own day, her own conversations in where the subject is about her, the entire content is about her, there is no one else really. Me, me, totally Me. So the confusion really folks, is yours. Yours because you’ve no idea where she is. So when she speaks and it seems out of context, snap to it Preppy – follow along please, what the hell are you???? Confused?
Mom: I think I ordered fish tonight, I’m so hungry, I don’t know why I’m eating so much here, so much and so fast. I ordered fish, I don’t fix fish at home for myself, and their fish is really good here, I had some a few days ago. Wait until you see it.
Me: (looking up from the book I’m reading) They went upstairs to get your tray, it’ll be here soon.
Mom: I hope I ordered fish. I had pot roast for lunch, and angel food cake. I remember ordering fish, so it must be coming for dinner.
Here comes the tray, she is so excited, as if lunch wasn’t a mere 5 hours ago, as if this were a 5 ***** restaurant, as if she herself were 5.
Mom: Look Jacquelyn, (yeah, my mom calls me Jacquelyn mostly) this looks like chicken.
She asks me to cut up her salad for her and hands me the utensils, she’s getting tired now. The move to a new floor, Rehab, and the excitement of a shower, the prospect of fish…too much for her.
Mom: The chicken here is so good too. So flavorfull, so moist. It’s just that I had myself set on fish.
She looks at the slip of paper that is delivered with each meal, it’s a computer print out of what you have ordered from the hospital menu the day before. It says clearly, COD.
Mom: I did order fish, it says here COD. I hope I get Cod tomorrow, because now I have to eat this chicken when I wanted Cod.
Me: But you said the chicken was good. ( I notice she can barely talk between bites she is shoveling it in so fast)
Mom: I wonder if the Cod went to someone else and I have their chicken. They are eating my Cod. I wanted Cod. I ordered fish. The fish here is so good, and they give you a lot, two huge pieces or one big one.
Me: That’s good, eat your chicken Ma, maybe you can get fish tomorrow. The peaches look really good too. (????)
Mom: It’s just that I had my heart set on that Cod. See here, I told you I ordered Cod, I circled it yesterday. I couldn’t remember if I ordered it for lunch or for dinner, but I knew I ordered it.
The nurses asst. steps in to check on her, and asks are you settling in ok?
Mom: They didn’t bring my right tray, they gave my Cod to someone else and I had to have chicken.
Me: MOM, Let Go of the COD. You can have fish another day. This chicken was tasty and moist and good.
Mom: Oh, yeah, I know. (She nods and finishes her peaches with a renewed zeal)
Where is the confusion? There is none. Her world is so small, so contained, so precise. When she is out of her element, she is doubting herself, and she speaks it aloud. Everyone around her acts as though she isn't present, speaks about her, not to her, and speaks to me as if she isn't there. She feels that they THINK she is losing her mind. I think they pass judgement on the elderly. I think it is they who are confused and don't quite know what is going on. Their world moves at a quicker pace as caregivers, with many patients and very little time to get into the space of just one of them. Can't they see that she's not a sharp 30 year old? That her hearing is impaired, that her mind is repeating the thought again in fragments, so that she can absorb the entire thought and not forget it? And she's doing it aloud, for everyone's benefit. So that you can judge for yourself that she is full of self doubt, but bringing it right back around to victory! She is indeed correct.
Who is confused?
Friday, August 1, 2008
We are all destined for this spot
She’s looking older, frailer (Is that a word?) each day. The stay away from her home (she's almost agoraphobic these last five years) is causing her some mighty high anxiety. I’m seeing things I’ve not noticed before. She is chatting uneasily with every person who enters the room. Housekeeping, the CNAs, the nurse, nurses aids, physical therapy, phlebotomist, all she tells her story to, because they say in monotone syllables, “How are you doing today?. It’s been so long that she’s had some socialization; she tells each of them her story, in a fragmented and confused sort of way.
She’s having difficulty sleeping through the night. She’s up at midnight, staring at the clock, and as she naps, she has nightmares. Nightmares that she can’t shake loose, so when she wakes, she’s half in the nightmare and half out. This causes those who surround her to think that she’s demented. She KNOWS it, and can’t STOP it, so she is ashamed. It’s a cycle, a humiliating and frightening cycle. She talks about it all during the day, through her sleepy morning, and early afternoon, until I force her to nap, stand guard against all the medical personnel who need to gather vitals, blood, give her treatments. “Stay away!”, let her rest peacefully for an hour or two! And she does.
I sit by idly reading the newspaper, wrapped in a sweater that I brought for her to wear because the air conditioning is on “cold” or “heat”, and right now it’s cold. I too have lost control of what day it is. My routine has been shattered as well, so I decide to go outside in the sunshine and make a few phone calls on my cell phone.
I sit on the park bench outside her hospital entrance, no signal on my phone. Watching the comings and goings of “people with a purpose.” (I am a serial finger quoter- GAH) Some how I’m sad. My mother doesn’t seem to be getting better, no, only more frail for having lie in bed for so long, only more fearful and paranoid, from lack of sleep. Her back is worse from this hospital bed. Is there health on the horizon? I really don’t know.
People fascinate me. Their purpose in the hospital is to tend to HUMANITY in a clinical way, however, some forget that they are HUMAN and there is a connection that they must make with each and every patient. Hey MEANIE, do you have a mother/grandmother some where? Is this how you treat her? IS this how you want to be treated? Most are nice to her though, if they need to roll their eyes they do it out of sight. I see visitors who have brought small children (en masse-SWEAR) like it’s daycare in that germy hospital!!!! THAT’S the very reason that we have MRSA -EXPOSURE!
I look at the somewhat strange reactions I’ve received lately from all my friends and family. I remember what my eldest daughter Sarah said to me just this afternoon as we watched the rain and thunderstorm from Gram’s window in her room (great view by the way) “Mom, we keep expecting people to be different, to live up to our expectations, and then when they don’t we are upset. We need towork on accepting them for who they are, that they’ll never change”. If they do, BONUS! I suppose she is ultimately correct, because I want the same acceptance from others. She's so smart, my girl.
She’s having difficulty sleeping through the night. She’s up at midnight, staring at the clock, and as she naps, she has nightmares. Nightmares that she can’t shake loose, so when she wakes, she’s half in the nightmare and half out. This causes those who surround her to think that she’s demented. She KNOWS it, and can’t STOP it, so she is ashamed. It’s a cycle, a humiliating and frightening cycle. She talks about it all during the day, through her sleepy morning, and early afternoon, until I force her to nap, stand guard against all the medical personnel who need to gather vitals, blood, give her treatments. “Stay away!”, let her rest peacefully for an hour or two! And she does.
I sit by idly reading the newspaper, wrapped in a sweater that I brought for her to wear because the air conditioning is on “cold” or “heat”, and right now it’s cold. I too have lost control of what day it is. My routine has been shattered as well, so I decide to go outside in the sunshine and make a few phone calls on my cell phone.
I sit on the park bench outside her hospital entrance, no signal on my phone. Watching the comings and goings of “people with a purpose.” (I am a serial finger quoter- GAH) Some how I’m sad. My mother doesn’t seem to be getting better, no, only more frail for having lie in bed for so long, only more fearful and paranoid, from lack of sleep. Her back is worse from this hospital bed. Is there health on the horizon? I really don’t know.
People fascinate me. Their purpose in the hospital is to tend to HUMANITY in a clinical way, however, some forget that they are HUMAN and there is a connection that they must make with each and every patient. Hey MEANIE, do you have a mother/grandmother some where? Is this how you treat her? IS this how you want to be treated? Most are nice to her though, if they need to roll their eyes they do it out of sight. I see visitors who have brought small children (en masse-SWEAR) like it’s daycare in that germy hospital!!!! THAT’S the very reason that we have MRSA -EXPOSURE!
I look at the somewhat strange reactions I’ve received lately from all my friends and family. I remember what my eldest daughter Sarah said to me just this afternoon as we watched the rain and thunderstorm from Gram’s window in her room (great view by the way) “Mom, we keep expecting people to be different, to live up to our expectations, and then when they don’t we are upset. We need towork on accepting them for who they are, that they’ll never change”. If they do, BONUS! I suppose she is ultimately correct, because I want the same acceptance from others. She's so smart, my girl.
My mother is taking forever to leave her slumber laden consciousness. She talks aloud in fragments (much like THIS blogger, with fragments!) that seem to not make sense. She tells me that hot soup will melt the ice and then you can’t ice skate.
What?
Mom do you know what you are saying? Yes, she giggles, but it makes some sense, right? Hot soup will melt the ice. She knows she’s talking crap, but she can’t stop. As she wakens fully, she tells me of her fears. She is anxiety ridden, and starts to get teary. I’ve not seen my mom teary. Bitchy, yep, teary no. I hold her hand and ask her why she is so fearful? She doesn’t know, and tells me, I’m turning back into a child, and I can’t get it to stop.
Today is Friday, pray that there is some sort of relief for her, some handle in the abyss that she can grab onto and make it slow down, that damn spiral.
What?
Mom do you know what you are saying? Yes, she giggles, but it makes some sense, right? Hot soup will melt the ice. She knows she’s talking crap, but she can’t stop. As she wakens fully, she tells me of her fears. She is anxiety ridden, and starts to get teary. I’ve not seen my mom teary. Bitchy, yep, teary no. I hold her hand and ask her why she is so fearful? She doesn’t know, and tells me, I’m turning back into a child, and I can’t get it to stop.
Today is Friday, pray that there is some sort of relief for her, some handle in the abyss that she can grab onto and make it slow down, that damn spiral.
Dolly, dog and a young "Gram"....my mother as a child.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
Spiral Down the Drain
From last post to this is worse.
Mom's physically better, however too unstable to return home at this time. She need some rehab therapy to stregnthen her legs. She is having anxiety MAGNIFIED. She's so scared of staying in the hospital that her anxiety has taken over and she's now weeping with fear, having nightmares that are so real to her but cause her to appear demented to the Frigging nurses who cannot be bothered to, well, nurse.
So, I stayed up at the hospital until she fell asleep, assisted by an anti anxiety med, and am waiting for her paranoid self to "make it til morning"...there is a conspiracy theory fueled by fear a brewing.
The rest of the entourage as mentioned afore?
I plead the 5th.
I've seen actions of others today, some pretty close to me, I am heart sickened. I am now fearful of aging, full of regrets from parenting and more focused on the ones who need me most. My aging mother, who told me tonight she's turning back into a child and it won't stop.
Mom's physically better, however too unstable to return home at this time. She need some rehab therapy to stregnthen her legs. She is having anxiety MAGNIFIED. She's so scared of staying in the hospital that her anxiety has taken over and she's now weeping with fear, having nightmares that are so real to her but cause her to appear demented to the Frigging nurses who cannot be bothered to, well, nurse.
So, I stayed up at the hospital until she fell asleep, assisted by an anti anxiety med, and am waiting for her paranoid self to "make it til morning"...there is a conspiracy theory fueled by fear a brewing.
The rest of the entourage as mentioned afore?
I plead the 5th.
I've seen actions of others today, some pretty close to me, I am heart sickened. I am now fearful of aging, full of regrets from parenting and more focused on the ones who need me most. My aging mother, who told me tonight she's turning back into a child and it won't stop.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Pour me another Scotch and Soda Barkeep
Why can't a good plan ever just work out nicely?
Saturday morning, I was to take in my brother's large dog, Sandy, to board while he and my husband fly out to Colorado to assist my daughter with her big move home to live with Grandma (even though I think this is an iffy situation - Grandma, Abbie and all her pets. Might be some vinegar and water there, .....Love you Mom).
My dog, Casper loves Sandy, Sandy is a little more brawn - over 100 pounds I judge from the way she slammed into my leg, Casper is only 70 lbs., but they'll be fine. Casper spends most of his day in his basement chalet, using his cage as a "bedroom" when he feels like lounging. Sandy, won't go down the stairs. She's a bit afraid of all that is our house. I'm left with no choice but to leave them in the backyard until I return.
I got back from the harrowing experience of driving my husband and brother to Midway in Chicago, and home (not so much used to that city driving), stopped by my house to check on the dogs. Sandy is also not used to sliding glass screen doors, so she pounded on right through mine, bending the frame. Oh well, when the Mr. gets home he can fix it. No harm done. Really.
Off to my Mom's to help her to move some things out of her spare room (the one Abbie will occupy) and help her do her laundry, as she fell yesterday, and is bruised and shaken.
I tried to convince her yesterday that falling wasn't a good sign, that perhaps we should go and get her hip pain checked out. (you KNOW what I'm thinking) and she wouldn't have it. I also told her that I would not be able to quit my job and take care of her full time if she can't stay alone and Abbie is no nurse maid, so one more fall, and we are going to the ER.
So, Saturday while I was there less than an hour, she fell. Legs just gave out on her and down she went.
Now, I've not blogged about my mom alot, Sharing this information is sharing a huge part of my fellings right now, and partially because she is a difficult person, and very aggravating. So whenever I talk about her I envariably leave a wrong impression, so frustrated I am. She gets to you. Terribly judgemental, stubborn and controlling. That's it in a nutshell. She pulls no punches. Manipultive.
3 years ago she suffered a small stroke, and it took my brother, daughter and myself about 5 hours to convince her to go to the ER. Maybe more, but I started counting the hours, and 5 is where I ended up.
So, when she fell, and scooched her rear over to the landing stairs to see if she could swing them around and pull herself up (failed) and couldn't make any rational rhyme or reason why this was happening to her she suggested that we go to the hospital. Course I can't lift her. She has no strength in her legs (hip pain by about 3 weeks) I called 911. An ambulance driven road trip! Yeah! We arrived at the ER at around 2, they admitted her around 4, the hospital didn't have a bed available until 10 pm.
Came home to crash at 11:30 pm. The dogs Sandy and Casper, they're ok, happy to see me, and now fighting for my attention. It's going to be a short weekend.
And then the caravan, my husband, brother, Abbie and her pet dog and 2 cats along with all their worldly belongings will arrive.
Mom's still in the hospital. Nothing is broken (so far, you know how ER docs are...their radiology readings aren't so swell) and she still isn't ambulatory yet. Got a leg bruise (she's on Coumadin therapy-blood thinners) that is from her artificial knee on down to her ankle, and it's purple and twice the size.
How's your weekend going? Wanna meet me for a drink later?
Saturday morning, I was to take in my brother's large dog, Sandy, to board while he and my husband fly out to Colorado to assist my daughter with her big move home to live with Grandma (even though I think this is an iffy situation - Grandma, Abbie and all her pets. Might be some vinegar and water there, .....Love you Mom).
My dog, Casper loves Sandy, Sandy is a little more brawn - over 100 pounds I judge from the way she slammed into my leg, Casper is only 70 lbs., but they'll be fine. Casper spends most of his day in his basement chalet, using his cage as a "bedroom" when he feels like lounging. Sandy, won't go down the stairs. She's a bit afraid of all that is our house. I'm left with no choice but to leave them in the backyard until I return.
I got back from the harrowing experience of driving my husband and brother to Midway in Chicago, and home (not so much used to that city driving), stopped by my house to check on the dogs. Sandy is also not used to sliding glass screen doors, so she pounded on right through mine, bending the frame. Oh well, when the Mr. gets home he can fix it. No harm done. Really.
Off to my Mom's to help her to move some things out of her spare room (the one Abbie will occupy) and help her do her laundry, as she fell yesterday, and is bruised and shaken.
I tried to convince her yesterday that falling wasn't a good sign, that perhaps we should go and get her hip pain checked out. (you KNOW what I'm thinking) and she wouldn't have it. I also told her that I would not be able to quit my job and take care of her full time if she can't stay alone and Abbie is no nurse maid, so one more fall, and we are going to the ER.
So, Saturday while I was there less than an hour, she fell. Legs just gave out on her and down she went.
Now, I've not blogged about my mom alot, Sharing this information is sharing a huge part of my fellings right now, and partially because she is a difficult person, and very aggravating. So whenever I talk about her I envariably leave a wrong impression, so frustrated I am. She gets to you. Terribly judgemental, stubborn and controlling. That's it in a nutshell. She pulls no punches. Manipultive.
3 years ago she suffered a small stroke, and it took my brother, daughter and myself about 5 hours to convince her to go to the ER. Maybe more, but I started counting the hours, and 5 is where I ended up.
So, when she fell, and scooched her rear over to the landing stairs to see if she could swing them around and pull herself up (failed) and couldn't make any rational rhyme or reason why this was happening to her she suggested that we go to the hospital. Course I can't lift her. She has no strength in her legs (hip pain by about 3 weeks) I called 911. An ambulance driven road trip! Yeah! We arrived at the ER at around 2, they admitted her around 4, the hospital didn't have a bed available until 10 pm.
Came home to crash at 11:30 pm. The dogs Sandy and Casper, they're ok, happy to see me, and now fighting for my attention. It's going to be a short weekend.
And then the caravan, my husband, brother, Abbie and her pet dog and 2 cats along with all their worldly belongings will arrive.
Mom's still in the hospital. Nothing is broken (so far, you know how ER docs are...their radiology readings aren't so swell) and she still isn't ambulatory yet. Got a leg bruise (she's on Coumadin therapy-blood thinners) that is from her artificial knee on down to her ankle, and it's purple and twice the size.
How's your weekend going? Wanna meet me for a drink later?
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