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.

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?

A Few days off does not A Vacation Make

Oh my gosh - it’s been over a week since I’ve posted. Sorry for that. I’ve been busy in my real life.

Took a couple of days off of work to spend some time doing “family” things. I really need a focused vacation on "get away time", however, these stay at home, work there-for- a-change- type days are good too.
What did I do?
Well, on Friday I went to my mother’s house to help her prepare for the arrival of my daughter, who will be moving here from Colorado this weekend. She has been in Colorado since her marriage to her husband who is in the Army and stationed there. Most of the 4 years that she has been in Colorado, he has been in Iraq. He was due to be out of the service last year, however he was stop lossed (which means that the army can draft them back into service if they need them) There was a quick change of plans. So he’s in his 3rd tour of the Iraq, from November 07 to January 09. Needless to say, Abbie, my youngest daughter is coming home. She's been missing her family and friends here, and although she has made a little life out there, and loves Colorado, she needs to be with her family here. She has a dog and two cats, and because my husband is allergic to cats, she’s going to live with my mother, who is aged, lonely, and this might be a good thing. We’ll see. Mom is really set in her ways and fairly odd now that she is 78 and 2 years post stroke, albeit a small one. So, off I was to Mom’s where I tried to convince her that we should empty out the closet in the bedroom that Abbie will occupy, because a 26 year old woman has more clothes than the 18” space that pushing aside my mothers' clothes provided. She was stubborn, reasons unknown, so I dropped the arguement. Abbie will have to show her the need, and I'm sure then she will understand. So we ventured on to her basement, where, I found nearly everything to be junk and old, so I crammed as much into my car’s backseat and trunk as I could and off to Goodwill I went. That took all day, all of a sunny wonderful pool type day, but nope, I spent it in my mother’s dark, dusty basement.

The next day was my husband’s family picnic. This has been going on for at least 100 years, but they can only document 69 years so that is what they call it. My husband’s family is proudly of Mexican heritage and very, very large. It’s a good day to eat Mexican breakfasts cooked over a Coleman stove, and home made guacamole that will start your nose a running. Play silly games, swim, and last but not least the piñata’s. Fun was had by all; except it was hot, humid and it poured rain until about 11:00 a.m, so we sweltered under the plastic type canopies and plastic rain ponchos. I felt like a left over ham sandwich crushed at the bottom of someone’s lunch box. Ewww. My baby granddaughter who is 5 months old kept crashing her face into my plastic shoulder until I thought she’d smother, so I took it off. We were damp and sweaty the rest of the day.
Next I planned a day of fun for my 5 (almost 6!) year old granddaughter. We were to go blueberry picking and then have a picnic and swim in the pool. We got up very early (for my day off) and started out into the country where there is a U-pick blueberry field. The wind started whipping up, clouds appearing, a small drizzle. We were shown the way- down a dirt winding road, had our plastic buckets weighed, and started out into the rows of blueberry bushes that were 6 foot tall or more. The berries were ripe and large, clustered all over those bushes so the picking was easy. Good thing, because shortly after we squealed with delight over finding large blueberries, the sky turned dark, the wind changed and blew harder, the lightening struck in the field nearby. A scene right out of the Wizard of Oz’s tornado scene, we picked faster! We picked berries, that may or may not have been ripe, because it was too dark to see! When the drizzle turned to drops we ran to the car, barely making it before the downpour of thunderous rain pelted our windshield. So much for that.
The rain eventually stopped, we were able to spend the afternoon in the pool. The Little Miss, as we have always called her that, and I are buddies, swimming with goggles, singing under water, normal fare for 5 year olds. She tells me all kinds of things, shares her thought process aloud with me. “Grandma, I love you so much, are you going to be my Grandma forever?” The sweetness of her voice and intentions make it all worth it. Swimmer's ear, purple blueberry lips and teeth, and puppets made out of paper Christmas plates, we had a wonderful time.

Ahhh, family, can’t live with them, can’t live without them. I love them all so much.

5 more days, and Abbie will be home. My husband and brother are flying out on Saturday to help her load the U-Haul and caravan all the way back here to Indiana, unload some things at Grandma’s and then store the rest. Can I say, although I’m not going to be involved - other than having my brother’s dog as a house guest, I’m nervous and apprehensive, possibly because I’m helpless and want to help.

So, I’ll need some good thoughts and prayers sent our way this weekend, for the travelers and this endeavor, if you've a few to spare. Perhaps I'll have more posts out of this!

Name THAT tune!

Music has always been a Huge part of my life. I love it. When I was younger I saved all of my babysitting money to purchase the top 40 hits, so I could practice my lounge act, alone in my room with some crazy wardrobe and a hairbrush. When I was a young mother, I played my vinyl records (Remember them? They were bigger than your head, could serve a pizza on them and had a gazillion hits, plus a photo jacket worth framing of your fav recording artist) on my cleaning days, so loud all the neighbors could hear, and sigh. My toddlers soon were exposed to all my favorites, and though I exposed them to all my favorites, they grew Up! and formed their own tastes in music which they shared with Me. And now, I’m like a jukebox of tunes…some old, some new, wait, did I say jukebox? That would date me, so I’ll scratch that and say, mixed CD.
K. Now, where was I? Ah yes, for the love of music. Yep, I do love me some tunes. One day, I wondered, what would be my theme song, if I had to choose one? How could I choose just one?
If I had to stick to the first thing that popped into my head, I’d have to say embarrassingly, it’d be “Sunglasses at Night” by Corey Hart. Can you hear it?
I’d be so cool.







But I’m not some die hard 80’s junkie, and few people have even heard that song, and most people would wonder “what the hell was she thinking?” So, I thought, really thought.
*
*
*
*
I'm thinking.
*
*
*

I asked my husband, while taking a drive the other day, the same question. Honey, what would be your theme song? He replied within minutes. SECONDS even. (If you’re thinking it’s a Beatles song, I KNOW, he always picks Beatles songs…) Nope, he says it’d be “We Are the Champions by Queen”. It fits me. You gotta love a man who really knows himself and isn’t afraid to show it know matter how it looks.

So I still I ponder. I thought, I’ll pick something upbeat and spiritual. I picked “Kyrie” by Mr. Mister, ANOTHER 80’s reference…..what is With that? I really like the mood that song sets…cool, wicked tempo, and picks up and gives glory to a higher power! Calm down.

Then I thought of “Glamorous” by Fergie. OH MY GOD, I can HEAR you all groaning. Stop it. It’s a ton better than “My Hump”. For the love the BlackEyedPeas, YOU choose!
Damn it, I mean it, YOU CHOOSE – take this challenge you comment starved lurkers, if you are reading this, post your theme song, and tell me why. If you want, steal the idea, and get a little posting love out of it, just be sure to link me to your post and drop me a comment to hook up to it.
After all has been said and done, I’m re-thinking my mind about my theme song…try this!

News Flash-Cell phones DO rot your brain cells. News at 8.

So, I’m sitting at my desk, and the operator of our facility calls to announce that there is a “Chris” (no not really, it wasn’t Chris, I’m protecting his identity, it was Sean) from SSA on the line for me. I recognize this as the salesman/stalker that originally cold called me a few months ago, leaving a message that he would like for me to purchase a Superior bottled water service for our patrons. I say no. But, first let me explain, the guy spoke in a snotty voice on my voice mail the first time he called me. HE called Me, and had the nerve to use his snotty voice. I waited for a while, not returning his call as he insisted that I do because I’m a Busy Woman, (Oh, really, you fortune tellers – yes, I’m blogging now, but sometimes I really am busy) and suddenly, a few weeks later he caught me. (Different operator thought they were transferring this sneaky Snot Face to my voice mail, and I picked up.) I told him then that I was still not interested. He said he would email me the info supporting how wonderful and superior this system is and I could just see for myself. Everybody’s doing it. Email is harmless, I decided that was a benign way of getting rid of him.
Now he stalks me.

Thing is, how many times and in how many languages do I have to say “no” – AND in just saying no, he takes up my valuable time.
Still, he pursues me, with his snotty tone demanding that I call him back, because he is after all, “awaiting my call”.
Perhaps it’s entitlement, which seems to be a position that is rampant today.
Perhaps it’s lack of phone etiquette. That seems to be a logical answer, as one who has witnessed or been exposed to infractions of the Phone Policy, many, many times.

I called my pharmacy recently. A monotone voice answered “hello”and then there was a long pause. (I was waiting for the spiel, you know, Hello, my name is --------, how may I help you”. As if that would happen!) I detail my needs, and then I quickly get placed on hold, where I hear a re-mix version of Michael Jackson’s Beat It , as heard on Japanese radio. No, “could you please hold?” or “thanks for calling, I’ll be able to help you in a moment, do you have time to hold?” Seems there ain’t no phone manners anymore.

I call to order a pizza, and I get…”Yeah”…..long pause with sausage and green peppers.

I call the hair salon, I get a personal cell phone of the stylist, who is busy cutting OTHER people’s hair. She does call me back, slightly over 3 hours after I left her a polite and detailed voice mail message, but she doesn’t identify herself, AS IF I’m waiting by the phone and I recognize her voice immediately. I must respond, “who the hell is this?” Can I just email everyone?

We have signs posted all around the building asking people to shut off their cell phones, you know, while they are giving an urine specimen or having their pap done…but no, folks still expect to be able to chat it up during their appointment with their doctor. (no, let me rephrase that, they usually talk the whole time that the nurse is taking their vitals, and asking them about their med changes and allergies, but hang up when the doctor comes in…but their phone continues to ring) Everyone is glued to a companion via phone waves! (I just wanted to use the word “via”)

I hate to stake this claim to fame, here in the blog world, where most are 20-45 years of age, and have multiple cell phones and really know how to use them, but ...my cell phone is turned off. (Gasp) Mainly because I’m working, so I don’t want people who can wait until I’m at home to ask me things. Call me a shrew and stomp away, but when I turn it on - silence, no one really calls. So, it’s in the conditioning of our peoples folks!

Funny how I can write a page on my blog about this, but totally avoid calling that guy back and saying like, “no, nada, non, I -don’t- think- So” and any other no sounding emissions that may come from my vocal cords.
Perhaps I can send him a strongly worded letter.

TGIF with Fun Facts!

My Friday is starting out Super for a change, so I thought that I’d do a Fun Fact Friday.. Keeping it light you understand. Don’t want to mess with the karma. “OK, you creative writer types, WE CAN’T all produce some great novelette each day, Get off my back”.

*I’ve lost three pounds since last Friday. And I didn’t even cut my hair nor have a major organ removed! This is because I announced after 9 months of dieting and 6+ months of eating 1200 calories and feeling so damn guilty when I have an ice cream bar instead of dinner. I’m ready for the exercise challenge though. Bring It On.

*I love reading all your blogs and LURKING on your comments, and when some of you are not posting or are on vacation, I’m wondering/worrying about you. So, I think out of blog courtesy, my Policy will be that I will have some type of notification on my page should I die an untimely death or am hospitalized for some Big Disease. How bout you? How sad to keep poppin in to your fav blog, only to never be heard from again.

*I think often about products that should be invented. Like slippers for the elderly that have teeny tiny flashlights on the toes. (like toddlers have in their heels, except brighter, more focused like Headlights) That way they can see in the dark on their way to the bathroom or going downstairs. Don’t steal it. I’ll know. This here blog post is almost as good as a patent.

*So far I almost qualify for “Black Widow” status. Three of the guys I dated in high school have died. Don’t know cause of death…but I see the common thread. Rest in Peace guys, and talk amongst yourselves would ya, I don’t want to watch an episode of John Edward and hear you channeling through some glossy eyed loved one all our make out stories. UGH.

*I opened a Twitter account, but sadly, had nothing to say. I can hardly use my cell phone now, let alone Twitter here or there. Besides I need Twitter for Dummies. Anyone care to share?

Happy Holidays!

I’ve stated before that I LOVE to shop. Yep, I’m a shopper. *said with a head tilt and flirty little grin.
I’m known to stop after work and lurk around department store counters, smelling perfumes, lingering over the jewelry, purses, shoes, house wares, children’s clothing YOU name it. I’m jazzed. I own 6,405 pairs of black slacks and 4,597 pairs of black shoes in various styles (according to husband). I read sales ads voraciously, envisioning myself in the various seasons’ styles REGARDLESS of the fact that they will look sweet on me.
Still.
I was leafing through today’s paper while eating my no-fat-no-flavor lunch and a department store flyer dropped onto my lap. The MFing HORROR! (This is where you gasp aloud, waiting for something big…perhaps a large ugly spider, but no, I’m dramatic that way that’s all)School Supplies!
Don’t get me wrong, I love the smell of fresh pencils and crisp double pocket portfolios in bright colors too. But school supplies are for fall and football games and clean new sneakers and vivid autumn colors. School supplies signify the end of summer, get your act together mom/kids, no more sleeping late, get out, go to school.

What the hell! Am I mistaken or have I just put away the leftover potato salad and fished the barely cooled sparkler wire out of my hair from the 4th of July? I’ve just taken my cashmere sweater to the dry cleaners and purchased those cute little chocolate brown walking shorts with some matching beaded sandals with a kitten heel. (I’ve hid a black pair, feigning ignorance of their existence if any husbands are out there reading) Come ON marketing folks, give us a collective break I say.
Any of you holiday Type A’s going to start school shopping yet? And the Horror that it represents is this…
Once you begin to see the School Supplies, the aisles of (insert your favorite store here) will start setting out fall and Halloween decorations.
I’ve yet to experience the blush of a suntan and you want me to think of my Thanksgiving menu? Start collecting Turkey Points and then, whoosh, wrap those Christmas/Hanukah/Kwanza presents. Damn you Santa, I’ve been good, what’s the rush?! (Santa gives me the creeps sometimes now that I’m a “grown up”)
168 shopping days till Christmas Day!
Auld Lang Syne my friend. Auld Lang Syne.

The Adventures of Pooh

******Warning*****If you are of a squeamish nature, get grossed out easily; if you are not the middle child sandwiched between two brothers who showed you their chewed food and called the crust of meatloaf “scabs” or have a nervous tummy LOOK AWAY. I apologize in advance for the Shamefull Content of this blog post. Tis the nature of the BEAST we call Health Care.

People never cease to amaze me. I am fascinated by the outstanding actions of the human kind. Good and bad, and WEIRD.

So, it started out a normal day at the health care center. All the physician morning schedules booked with patients and procedures, phones were ringing, computers (working fine today, thanks for noticing) up and humming, printers printing etc. At around 8:30 a.m. a husband and wife team walked in and approached the front desk area.
Husband: “My wife was here on Saturday, she has diarrhea and a fever and she’s not getting better”.
Receptionist: “We have an opening at 9:00 sir, we can squeeze her in at that time…”
Husband: “YOU don’t understand, I’m not waiting here 2 hours, I WILL be seen before then”.
(Neanderthal Man, thinking he can push all the other sick and needy, sometimes even emergent patients aside for his wife, who isn’t getting better)
Receptionist spies wife tucked behind him looking pale and pasty like the Stay Puff marshmallow man.
Receptionist: “Sir, I can ask a nurse to take her back to an exam room to wait, that way she won’t be waiting out here while she feels so poorly, but the doctor is in with a procedure and there are three other patients ahead of you, so there will be a wait”.
Husband: “We aren’t going to wait 2 hours I can tell you that!”. (Ok, we’re fine with that, we aren’t an emergency room, or urgent care center, we are YOUR TYPICAL DOCTOR”S OFFICE)

A nurse calls the wife and husband back, to walk them down the hall to an exam room. She notices that the wife is carrying a plastic bag with a Tupperware container in it. The wife then states that she has had diarrhea since Saturday, hasn’t been able to keep any food in her because “it just pours out." Doctor had told her that if the diarrhea persisted she may have to have her stool tested for parasites.
The nurse turned her right around to take her to the lab. She didn’t have an order for a stool culture, but looks like she brought something with her just in case. The lab tech greets her and the lady reveals a TUPPERWARE CONTAINER FULL OF DIARRHEA! Oh Joy! How’d that happen? Yeah, I guess she sat her germy booty on a plastic bowl instead of the porcelain we all know and love.

Pause just a moment for the Tupperware representative in our reading audience who will now bawl like a baby and pass out.

The lab tech calmly gave her a pair of gloves, a clean specimen container, and a biohazard bag for the remaining remnants, and escorted her to the bathroom. She could dip the small specimen container into the bowl herself, that is, IF the doctor wanted a specimen tested of course.

I mean GEEZE, I nearly threw up in my mouth when I’d heard that there was someone who apparently sat on a Tupperware (sorry plastic container lovers) bowl and caught her vile excrement as it expelled her nasty bowels. AS IF!!! EWWWWWW.
SERIOUSLY, Lady, only a dip stick size portion is needed to send it away for testing, IF that is what the doctor orders.

Turns out, she has a viral intestinal bug. Has to run it’s course, no need for antibiotics, just supportive care. And here’s the good part….wait for it…she didn’t even take anything at home to try to stop the flood of diarrhea, you know, like over the counter medicines like Immodium or Pepto Bismal, or even a liquid bland diet. Nope, just continued to eat pizza, lasagna, Taco Bell Crunch Wraps, and Gyros from Georgie’s. PLUH EEEEZE.

Note to all non clinical types out there. There is such a thing as over the counter drugs and remedies that were once prescription medications in some cases, and are now safe enough to use at home with your better judgment and common sense if you have it. Try it! Walk down the lovely aisles in Walgreens, or Target even, or hey, if you are of the Medicare set, try Walmart or Kmart – Martha does it! There are even lovely folks in white coats called pharmacists and pharmacist assistants who will help you mill around the salves and drops and nasal sprays for quick relief. If then if your synptoms persists, you can pay a co pay and see your doctor.

No one really needs a bucket of pooh, or a bowl of diarrhea. We believe you, you are sick, uh huh, we get it, it’s not Show and Tell. Dear readers, go right now and get a disposable paper towel and some antibacterial spray, wipe the screen I tell you, it’s germ-o-rific just in my telling of it. Swear, see they never cease to amaze me these wonderful creatures, these human beings we share the earth with.

All this before 10:00 a.m. Imagine, a day in the life of pooh. Do you think she washed the Tupperware bowl out to store leftovers in? Perhaps to serve some nice pasta salad at the next picnic.

****No Tupperware containers were harmed in the creating of this blog post, and the author apologizes for the crude albeit creative use of of plastic containers in general.

Smooth 4th Doggy Style

We celebrated Independence Day with a picnic and fireworks. No one was blown to smithereens! Fun was had by all, even the dog. No, I kid you not, even the dog!

Last year my dog was slightly afraid of the big booms that are M-60’s and M-80’s. This year he didn’t mind so much, and when night fell and the guys started blowing off bottle rockets and other whistle blowing-spark-and-fire spitting fireworks he leapt into the hazy smoke filled air trying to catch them. If he could smile, he was! He made cute little yelps and rushed the huge fireworks too, biting at the air like he could reach 500 feet into the night air to bite them. I don’t know what I enjoyed more, the silly dog or the fireworks that the grown “boys” lit off.

So, it’s a Monday after the 4th and back here at work, ass dragging like every other reveler. I need a drink and a nap to get through the afternoon after a 3 day weekend.
Cheers!

Burn your bra - or Not.

You know, I wonder why every blog post I read (except here) has portrayed the blog-ess as being out of sorts. SHABBY feeling. Gloomy and Friggin sad.
And no one knows why.


I’d say if this weren’t the beginning of glorious sunshine filled summer that it was effects of seasonal affect disorder, but IT’S SUMMER, you know, summer, Watermelon, baseball, flipflogs, swimming, lazy beach days-sand-in-your-butt-crack, ice cream, popsicles, vacation adventures, SUMMER. SNAP out of IT!

I have pondered over this for a few days. It seems when I talk to those around me, at work and in my family and yes, on all the blogs I read, everyone is uncomfortable or harried BECAUSE of the summer months. The slower pace has all women frazzled, confused and discombubbled. They are either too busy to enjoy the pace or because the pace is too slow, women are uncomfortable with the free time they have. They have become lonely and out of sorts, with nothing pressing to do or if they have something to do, they just plain can't get "up" to do it.

If you are reading this and rolling your eyes don’t look away yet. If you are nodding your head in agreement, stay put, I’m going to talk about a theory I have.

Women are expecting too much. Not all of us, all the time, but in talking to women, I notice that there is much more to do than say 40 years ago when the feminist movement valiantly shouted equal pay for equal work, BURN YOUR BRA, get on the pill and ladies your quality of life will improve if you get to work. Go on, get out there, and get to work.

For example: I grew up in the late 50’s and 60’s. My T.V. stereotypical role models were Donna Reed, Laura Petrie and June Cleaver. They wore housedresses never pants or “slacks”, and made snacks for the “Beaver” when he arrived home from school. They cooked all day long, so that when the Mr. came home, she knelt before him, put on his slippers and then served dinner, (wearing pearls).
The 60’s started happening, and suddenly, women wore pants/jeans. Burned their bras, were supposed to be free to do what they wanted. Thanks to Ms. Magazine as opposed to Good Housekeeping. T.V. mom’s started to become slicker. Look at Bewitched even, she didn’t work outside the home, because she was so busy performing witchcraft, and yes, pouring Darrin #1 martini’s when he arrived home. We saw shows that proved that women who chose careers could have a really complex life, Like Mary Tyler Moore, who threw her hat in the air and lived successfully well dressed and single in her small apartment.
Thanks Gloria Steinham.
My mother (aged 78) and I had a conversation regarding Prohibition on Sunday. For you who either were passing notes in History class or are too young to care, Prohibition was a period of time in the U.S. (during the depression) that the Yahoo religious fanatics and feminist righteous lady suffrogates decided that alcohol was the root of all that is evil with our society (they were probably a little correct) and pressure congress to have it outlawed throughout the U.S. Carrie Nation, took this a step further and went into saloons and bars and smashed all the pretty liquor filled bottles to smithereens. She was angry. She looked like this. See WHY she was angry? (couldn't get a date)

Eventually, Roosevelt, prompted by Eleanor (my guess, my story, get off my back) amended that business and we were back to drinking and driving and the ladies were pushed back down. Any hoo, the feminist movement has messed with us ladies.

As the 80’s and 90’s television role models showed, we CAN have it ALL! See?
Mrs. Cosby, she was a brilliant attorney had all those kids, and a Mr. Dr. and did you ever see a Mrs. Brady’s Alice (who was clearly out of work at this time) cleaning her house? Subliminal message I say. They eluded to her doing all the cleaning and cooking and washing and litigating.

There was Maggie Seaver from Growing Pains, those of you that are age 26-35 viewed her as your role model , she worked outside of the home too, and her husband had a home office, but still she cooked and cleaned and had to mediate those kids.

See, we’ve been told that we can have it all with very little or no effort, and be perfectly coifed, slim, and stylish, our husbands grinning at our every word.

Thank you all my role models for letting me know that all things are possible for women in this century, however, where’s the REAL WORLD now?
Is it in reality T.V.? From Wife Swap we see a different, crazy world than ours. From the Super Nanny, we kids out of control and mouthy. But Why? We rarely see a women on T.V. who has many interests that she is very fulfilled by and has time to enjoy them. Why do you think that Sex and the City was so very popular? We’d all like to believe that we too can be sexy, stylish, have great friendships and drink martinis after work, and come home to immaculate cute, decorated dwellings.

Who really lives like this? The pressure! And that is why we can all thank the women’s movement for our funk. Seriously! Damn you Carrie Nation! Bar keep, pour me a drink.

Welcome July!

July marks the birth of our nation, you know with fireworks and family picnics and parades and FIREWORKS!
It also marks the birth of my son, Adam, who was born July 1, 1980.
Twenty eight years ago, during a heat wave Indiana hadn’t seen in a long time, the temperature reaching and staying in the 100’s is when he arrived, a day before his due date. Prompt, that’s a wonderful thing to a very pregnant, swollen young mother!
He and I aren’t always on the same page at the same time, but oh, when we are, we enjoy so many things together.
He’s my creative one. The one who we all turn to when we have computer issues, the one who knows all there is to know about music and what’s new and interesting in film. He could carry on an interesting conversation full of wit and humor with a rock. (It’s true, I’ve witnessed it!) He was our man about the house while he was growing up, a house full of GIRLS, put on this earth to torment and aggravate Adam. Yeah, baby, I’m sorry about that!
My middle child, the quickest, sharpest wit, he who shared my love of corny puns, now, maybe not so much.
Seems he always got gypped on his birthday, had to share it with the whole damn nation.
Happy Birthday Son, I love you, - Mom.

He's around six (the candles are a clue) here.