My JOllie Home

Pied Piper

2009-02-25T15:17:00.005-05:00

I'm ~~flabbergasted~~ a little surprised.

Come on people. Be for real.

I ~~have been a bitch on wheels~~ haven't been feeling too great for the last couple of days. For the bits of time that I wasn't hiding under the covers in bed I was parked in front of the computer.
Reading blogs.
I saw that I lost a follower.
Then I read a post saying "OMG I LOST 46 FOLLOWERS"
And another "WAS IT SOMETHING I SAID"
Followed by "COME BACK, COME BACK I MISS YOU ALL"
It was the Google Flu, people. Google was "adjusting" something somewhere in their Technical Batcave. No Followers were lost, they just got shuffled into the wrong bus line for awhile.
Google should apologize for damaging the psyche of so many bloggers in so little time.
Some of the "I've Lost My Followers" posts were tongue-in-cheek.
Some were sincere.
Some promised never to say "faux" again.
Some said "faux-ity faux faux."
Just A Reminder: Blogging is NOT a popularity contest.
Blogging IS all about you.
It's whatever you want it to be.
It's in your words.
It's in your time. Don't apologize for being a "bad blogger"

Blogging is not meant for you to feel inadequate, or all-powerful, or smart or stupid.
Blogging is a release. It's a place to vent. Or share. Or make wisecracks about your sisters. because you love them.
It's a tool, people.

Love Yourself Just The Way You Are.

Embrace who you are right now, help another woman love herself too. Life is too short, time is too precious. Let's wear our hearts on our feet, put on your red shoes and walk with your head held high!

Liberty Post and the lady in Red Shoes would like you to share the RedShoe Love-a-thon. If you'd like to join in, add the photo to your sidebar.

P.S. I'm still following you.

Once Upon A Time....

2009-02-21T23:37:00.006-05:00

.......there was a ~~beautiful princess~~ Crotchety Old Mom. Her daughter was 17 and no longer in need of constant supervision.

The Princess Daughter bought Mom a new book called "He's Just Not That Into You."

Crotchety Old Mom read it like an owner's manual.

Several times.

And realized she just wasn't into the ~~frog~~ prince she was dating, nor he her.

Mom is well aware of her misplaced grammar.

She bid him adieu.

Mom was pretty much resigned to remaining single for the rest of her days.

Not that there's anything wrong with that.

She would have been perfectly content to take up bird-watching or basket-weaving or a few more stray cats.

The Internet beckoned.

GottaMatch had a special deal going on.

Her BFF had emailed many delightful "profiles" of eligible princes for the Mom's amusement.

Mom now wishes she would have saved one particularly amusing picture from StupidCupid.com. It featured a very short very plump biker dude wearing nothing but a pair of leather trousers and a large dagger.

Seriously.

Mom joined GottaMatch so she and her BFF could amuse one another by picking out potential Princes for each other.

GottaMatch would also pick out potential Princes and email their profiles. Kind of like a Royal Personal Shopper.

I was shopping. Not to buy, just s.h.o.p.p.i.n.g.

GottaMatch dropped a few "you might find this Prince ~~tolerable~~ amusing"in the Royal Inbox.
Meh.

One evening LuckyGuy landed in the Royal Inbox. He said he was lucky because he had broken his neck @ C1 and C2 and suffered spinal cord injuries (eerily similar to Christopher Reeves); but that after a year of rehab he was no longer wheelchair bound and was getting around pretty well on his own, thankyouverymuch.

CrotchetyOldMom is a rehab nurse. She recognized that LuckyGuy had worked his fanny off to get back on his feet.

She sent him an "atta boy" note.

He emailed back.

He was funny.

She emailed "you amuse me"

Barrage of emails.

Followed by phone calls.

And a date.

He came over and helped with dinner. We made meatloaf.

the Sisters called. "What are you DOING?," they asked.

"we are making meatloaf."

"OH! IS THAT WHAT YOU CALL IT? BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

the Sisters amused themselves.

I made meatloaf last night.

Mr Sweetie will say that it's just as good as the first time he had it. When his name was LuckyGuy.

Ms. Fixit

2009-02-20T06:00:00.000-05:00

Big Sis K and Little Sis Stew left me here in the snow belt.
Alone.
With BSK's crap-mobile uh van parked in my driveway.
While they go to the tropics to snorkel and play footsie in the sand and visit my brother.
Where they will talk trash about me.
Because when you are laying about in the sand complaining about the heat and the humidity and how the sun's a little too bright for your liking ~~and your beloved family member is unable to eavesdrop~~ you just naturally think of that particular family member.
right?
K. asked me to move the van around the driveway every day so the brakes wouldn't seize up or freeze or whatever the heck malingering tempramental brakes do when they aren't being coddled and loved.
Well I really MEANT to go out and move it. But I'm easily distracted.
I didn't bother to move the van for a ~~several many~~ couple of days.
The brakes froze.
Solid.
I emailed the knowlegable folks at CarTalk's Chat Forum.
"Take the wheels off and bleed the brake lines"
huh ?
"get under the car and....." Didn't even finish reading that one. I don't do "get under the car."
"take your torque wrench and..." Yeah, let me just root around under the kitchen sink for that torque wrench. It's around here somewhere...
"Spray the brakes with Brakleen."
"Whatever you do, don't spray the brakes with Brakleen."
I went to the Highest Authority of Brakedom. The owner of the crapmobile van.

"Uh, hi, K., your brakes suck."
"Oh, yeah, I know. Just gun the gas and they'll break loose. You'll hear a big old CLUNK but that's OK. Go ahead, gun it."
I gunned it. Clunk. The van goes back and forth. Problem solved.
Mr Sweetie: "Uh, honey? The back wheels aren't moving. You're sliding on that big patch of ice."
Problem not solved. Big patches of rubber on the driveway.
~~shit~~ crap.
My BIL calls. He is crying laughing.
"Hey, Stew called and asked me to come over and move the van because she didn't think you knew how to drive an automatic."

It's almost true. I drive standard shift. Put me in an automatic and I will always hit the brake and the gas simultaneously thinking that the brake is the clutch because that's how ya shift gears, ya know. but not in an automatic.
Long discussion about the nerve of those two leaving us behind to do the dirty work while they're frolicking in the sand.
Stew owes Tim big favors for coming down here , getting under the van in three feet of snow and fixing the brakes while I singlehandedly hold the van up with my girly biceps.
Hah.
not really. But that's his story.
The van decided to get over its temper fit and moved. All four wheels this time. With me driving.
Problem solved.
I better get a big big souvenier out of this.

Bunny Tales

2009-02-18T19:16:00.006-05:00

My BFF was married to Mr. D., a complex and interesting character with a complex and interesting job.

One of the less complex aspects of his job was wading through sewers. The massive ones. The reason for doing such a ~~ewww gross~~ thing is lost in the mists of time and my foggy memory. Mr. D. would hold forth dissertations on what was found in the depths of underground plumbing......"those big lady things women wear? Ya know? Those whaddacallums."

"Pads, Mr.D. Kotex.", his wife would sweetly intone.

"Yeah, them. Ya know what they look like in the dark? In a sewer? When you come up on them all of a sudden?" (wife is smirking. She's heard this story.)

"Bunnies. They look like bunnies in the sewer." (holding arms wide wide apart to demonstrate that they look like monster bunnies.) what a comforting thought.

May the Monster Bunnies be kind to you this month.

There is no possible way to segue to the point of this post ...drumroll please...... Patrick of Cre8tor's Touch is celebrating his 100th post with a Primitive Angel Bunny Giveaway. I really really want it.

I once fancied myself a dollmaker. I'm still a doll maker, dang it, they're just on the back burner right now. See those clowns and angels up on my header? I made them. (takes modest bow) I will love them to my dying day, even if I sold them.....

Many thanks to the clowns and angels that visit here. You all make my day ( my family's heard all the stories before. They don't even listen politely when I try to form a sentence....they wait for me to blog about it...)

Happiness Is.....

2009-02-18T12:41:00.005-05:00

going to Tiffy's blog and giving her *birthday hugs* on Thursday..... she L.O.V.E.S. hugs! A Bloggy Birthday Blowout Hug-a-thon don't kill me Tiffany.....please be sure to stop by and wish her a Happy Birthday! you don't really have to hug her, she might blow from the pressure.....

....reading Kori's post today...and the ability to spare ten bucks for a good cause. Please go to her blog, find that little "donate" button, and work your magic. A six-month old little girl will thank you. So will her parents. So will Kori. .thank you.

....knowing that I will live for another week before both of my sisters come home to kill me....Stew is gonna kill me for letting the Entire World know that beneath that lady-like exterior she's a tootin' fool....and Big Sis K will kill me twice because the van that she parked in my driveway is s.t.u.c.k. in Park.....she oh-so-innocently asked me to move the van a few feet every day so that the brakes wouldn't get stuck. I went out to move it. The brakes are stuck. hmmmmm....I smell a rat. Or burning brakes.

.....an AWARD!!! In the midst of thinking up happy things, an email from Snooty Primadona popped up with a fantabulous award!!!

Blog Darts Thinker

“This award acknowledges the values that every Blogger displays in their effort to transmit cultural, ethical, literary, and personal values with each message they write. Awards like this have been created with the intention of promoting community among Bloggers. It’s a great way to show appreciation and gratitude for work that adds value to the Web.”
..... how freaking cool is that???

I get to nominate another 15 bloggers to pass this shiny new award on to. Or more than 15. Rules, schmules.

my work adds value to the Web? huh?

....my daughter. She is AWESOME. Having survived years of d.r.am.a., driving lessons, prom nightmares ( "we" have a small fortune in prom dresses and dried-up corsages in the closet...) frightening potential boyfriends with my PsychoMom glare and being a mom/dad to her ~ she still likes me. wow. We survived!

...all of the wonderful, funny, cussing, letting-it-all-out bloggers. (let's all link arms and sing It's A Small World After All).....you know who you are. Yes, you. thank you.

What I Didn't Blog About....

2009-02-16T17:30:00.004-05:00

There are a bajillion drafts in my blog.

But.

I didn't blog about my sister with asthma.
Asthma makes her cough.
Coughing makes her toot.
Tooting makes her sisters laugh like 12 year olds.

"yeah, sit next to me on the plane for three days and laugh" she snarled. I didn't think she'd think it was funny if I exposed her un-ladylike behavior.
it's still funny.
she'll kill me when the Sisters get back from vacation.

I didn't blog about the sisters on vacation. On an island. Far away. Without me. boo hoo. Green with envy, I tell ya.

I didn't blog about the first nursing home I worked at. That's where I met my very first cross-dressing transvestite nursing assistant. Sydney was a little exotic looking. I thought she had really big hands. One of Sydney's old high school classmates was hired shortly after I started working there. Classmate commented,"It's a little weird seeing Sydney in a dress." I said, "Why's that?"
Classmate said, "We were in the same graduating class. She was a boy then."

Oh.

Classmate said "Adam's Apple." (apparently I wasn't the brightest crayon in the box since it had to be pointed out to me that there are some obvious discrepencies between girlstuff and boystuff. Not that anything was ever actually taken out and pointed at me. Except for that Adam's Apple.)

I didn't blog about the mashed potatoes I made on Sunday. Because they are addictive. Tater Crack. (I will not blog about the Tater Crack disappearing overnight and finding a new home on my butt.)

Go here for the recipe. Don't say I didn't warn you. Thank You Snooty Primadona. Just say no if you're on KFMBA.

I didn't blog about my fabulous new job because ~~I'm still waiting for the winning lottery ticket to waft down from the heavens~~ I don't HAVE one yet. You'll be the first to know.

I didn't blog about Mr. Sweetie looking at more freaking surgery. Soon. He's had a hip replacement and a shoulder replacement in the past year. Shoulder Number Two is ~~giving him fits~~ acting up. He's not that old.

Hospitals suck. Arthritis sucks.

Mr. Sweetie promised that I'd get a remote control with the next replacement part heh heh.

What haven't you blogged about this week?

Needy

2009-02-07T08:48:00.004-05:00

I always like to think that I was independent. "No thank you", I'd say in reply to passersby inquiring if I needed a hand picking up and moving a Volkswagen Beetle. (it was in my parking spot.)

I'd climb the shelves to reach the Cheerios in the grocery aisle.

I'm needier than I thought.

I have succumbed to that little ditty that's been circulating the Blogosphere ~ "Linda Needs"

Go to Google and put in your name and "needs" in the search button.

Linda needs to be a part of a loving, committed marriage.

I'll stick with a loving commited partnership TYVM.

Linda Needs Mental Help.

The one who denies it the most strongly is always the one in the most need of help. I'm fine. I'm fine, dammit. Fine fine fine.

Linda needs a new best friend.

Do not either. My BFF will do just fine. Even if she's a foot taller, blond, gorgeous and we're polar opposites. It doesn't matter to me that salesladies waiters and men swarm her when she walks through the door trampling me in their eagerness to get there first.

Linda needs help (more than usual).

don't we all.

Linda needs to be bright

stick a light bulb in my mouth and plug me in. Bright enough for you?

Linda you need a shrink

opinions expressed in this post are not neccesarily those of the author.

"I would give anything for $40,000 a month,and Linda needs more."

I'm willing to take less.

Linda needs to flatten her chest

Gravity is taking care of that.

Linda needs to think real hard and pray.

Did that. Thinking gave me a headache.

Thinking is Giving Me a Headache

2009-02-02T13:28:00.003-05:00

Pass the Tylenol. Pass the Xanax if you have one to spare. I'll pay you back. Promise.

Once again I'm on the merry-go-round. Should I go back to work? Should I not?

I used to once upon a time work at a nursing home. I loved it there. Loved my co-workers ~~or at least some of them~~ loved ~~most of~~ the residents.

The problem is with loving who you work with or work for is that they do eventually go away. To Heaven. I really got a little tired of losing friends that way.

After one of my best 104-year-old nursing home friends decided that it was high time to clock out and go on a permanent vacation I thought maybe I should get a job elsewhere. Like in a hospital where the patients don't call their room "home." Where they would get better and walk out the door. The hospital was a good place to work, if only because patients DID get better and left the hospital in a more or less vertical position. Hospital politics? Meh. Let's just say five hospital presidents in the five years I worked there.

We started a business while I was working at the hospital. Initially the business was meant to be a little project but it kind of took off and turned into a real live j.o.b.

I was working two full-time jobs. Work/home became work/work at home/work/work/work.

The best thing about working at home? You don't have to get up and get dressed and get in the car.

The worst thing about working at home? You don't get to get dressed and get in the car and go to work and come home. Work is there right outside the bedroom door.

Then Hospital Politics reared its ugly head and all of the LPNs were let go.

"Fine" I said. "Business is good" I said. "I'll just work one freakin job and ~~sit in my jammies all day~~ not worry about juggling work/home/work/home/workhome.

fast forward a year....

Can you say r-e-c-e-s-s-i-o-n? Business is OK. Kinda. But I'm anal about the bills. Kinda.

The nursing home I worked at just opened up two new buildings.

I loved it there.

I should go and apply for a j.o.b.

What if they say NO?

What if they say yes?

Please come kick me off this fence I'm riding. My butt is getting sore.

Life On An Island/AKA Man In the Bathtub

2009-01-31T14:48:00.010-05:00

And you all thought I was a good procrastinator ~ I asked my brother ohhhhh maybe about 10 weeks ago (he says three weeks but who's counting) to give me 10 good reasons to live on an island. Al lives on a little teeny tiny island. With approximately 141 other ~~science geeks~~ fascinating people. He lives on Roi-Namur in the Marshall Islands, playing with satellites and fishies. That's him in the picture ~~trying to get away to a bigger island with g.i.rl.s. on it~~ playing in what he likes to call his bathtub.

Al's Top 10 Reasons to Live On An Island

Linda - Well, it's been 3 weeks; about time to stop procrastinating. I know this Top 10 doesn't apply to just any island; only the one I'm calling home right now.

1) Rarely warmer than 88 degrees. (note to self: MOVE IN WITH AL)

2) Rarely colder than 76 degrees. (bring a sweater for those chilly 76 degree nights)

3) No personal vehicles = no traffic, no car maintenance, payments, or insurance. (packin'my flip flops)

4) No ^&*!#$%* kids. (he really does love his neices and nephews. As long as they don't spit sneeze drool or poop on him.)

5) Less than 100 people on the island = get along or else. (I wanna see a little "or else.")

6) No Federal income tax, state tax, electric bills, water bills, or grocery bills. (I'm packing right now. NO BILLS. NO TAXES.*sigh*)

7) Intermittent dial-up Internet service - requires one to develop and exercise eternal patience. (HUH? that might be a little problem.....)

8) No UPS, FedEX, etc. - US Postal Service is only shipping option. "Instant gratification is only 3 - 4 weeks away." (that is not instant. Instant is rightnowrightnowrightnow.)

8) Lots of fun toys to play with at work (satellite & space debris tracking radars). (obviously Al's definition of "toys" is ~~abnormal~~ not the same as mine. My toys would be a catalog, a beach umbrella and some 3-D glasses. And maybe a pool boy.

9) Every day is casual day - shorts, tee-shirts and sneakers for work. (I could deal with that. Fer sure.)

10) WWII artifacts and history everywhere. (Meh. More boy toys.)

Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of minuses associated with this kind of living and some people here make a career out of finding/vocalizing all the negatives. I try to take the good with the bad. I'll send some photos soon, like maybe next week, or the next week, or.........whenever. Procrastionation is an art form I've perfected into a science. Love,Al

Big Sis K & little sis Stew will be travelling to Roi in a week. One of them may have an exceptionally heavy carry on bag. If you don't hear from me for awhile it's because I'm stuffed in a tote bag with my flip flops. I don't think I can blog from inside a tote bag stuffed under an airplane seat but we'll see....

Was Gonna

2009-01-28T20:06:00.003-05:00

Nothing nothing nothing could get my mom's head to spinning accompanied by the required flames-shooting-from-the-eyeballs-hair-on-fire spazz attack hissy fit she'd throw when one of her ~~angels~~ childrens would utter those Words of Doom....

"I was gonna........."( take out the trash/feed the dog/)you get the picture.....

Well. I ~~was gonna~~ had planned to get a whole buncha bloggy things written so I could just be a ~~lazy~~ well-organized blogger and just hit "Publish" when it was time to post something new...

Uh-huh. I was gonna get the living room painted. Right after the family room got finished (it's been 5-6-12 years since THAT project was started...) I did get a couple of things done on my long list of Things to Do Immediately ~ like add 28 1/2 sticky buns in equal proportions to my um er buns. My butt is so big and squishy all I need is some raisins and cinnamon to decorate it.

Yummy.

Thanks to all my bloggy friends that checked in periodically, it was nice to know that I have ~~checker-inners~~ friends out there!

January. A good month to ~~hibernate~~ ~~eat cookies~~ start over. Or at the very least get offa my butt and finish a project..this month's project was to make real food for dinner.

I strenuously object to schlepping to the grocery store, stuffing the cart full of the cheapest food possible (I always feel like the cavewoman hunting down and killing a week's worth of dinner) taking it home stuffing it in the fridge, taking something out of the fridge and cooking it. Blargh.

"Chicken? Again?"

Yep. I know, you're gonna sprout feathers. Anybody know how to make chicken taste like um well anything NOT chicken? Mr Sweetie (and millions of men everywhere) will thank you.

BTW the last time Mr. Sweetie was in the kitchen as an active participant was our first date....except for the one time that he made tuna casserole all by himself. For some reason the recipe called for flour. He grabbed the first plastic container with a white powdery substance in it and added it to the tuna glop.

no I wasn't home

no the white powdery stuff wasn't ~~coke~~ illegal.

It was confectioner's sugar.

I'm sure you'd rather hear what we cooked on our first date. Or how we met. you'd rather hear anything but what that tuna casserole tasted like. choke choke "it's not THAT bad honey" (gulp)

I Heart My SSS

2008-12-18T23:26:00.004-05:00

Somewhere in Utah....is my very own Secret Santa! ( I'm over there on the right doin' the Happy Gift Dance) -->

I'LL BE BE GOOD I PROMISE.

I will not eat the yummmmmy Godiva chocolate before I take pictures.

I will not indulge in a super-size Starbucks Caramel Macchiato with a shot of expresso and flash my gift card at the barrista.....before I take pictures.

I will not fly to Wendy's with my Wendy's gift card (now I'm quivering with anticipation...)

and I cross my heart I won't go to Barnes and Noble and collapse in their comfy couches with a brand-spankin' new book and that box of Godiva goodness....

oh.......how long can I be good......thank you Secret Santa, you rock! I'll post pictures just as soon as this elf gig is over with ~ that Santa is a slave driver! thank you thank you thank you!

gonna have to go and do some snooping....who lives in Utah? hmmmmmmmmmmmm........

I Do Not Love Thee Dr. Farranelli

2008-12-10T16:59:00.006-05:00

There are things from our past that rise up to remind us of where we have come from, small struggles, little triumphs, happy memories......and some not so happy......

My sincere apologies to the lady whose eardrum I burst by screaming and making gagging noises when I was taking her phone order......and saw this on the scratch paper I was using................

1.75 g O2 occupies 2L @ 1ATM. What is T?

1ATM = T(K)

1.75 g x 1mol O2 / 32gO2 = .0547

Chemistry homework circa 2001.

Tis The Season....and a Winner!

2008-12-04T17:26:00.005-05:00

There are 577 unread posts in my reader.
There is a two day old turkey drying out in the fridge. We were planning on having a NotThanksgiving dinner here because Thanksgiving was at my sister's house many miles away.
One of the cats has been AWOL for four days. Not good.
CA wrote a song for me to sing while I scout the neighborhood looking for Sprout the ~~idiot nose-biter~~ wonder kitty.

come home sprootle
come home sprootle
come home right now!
Sprootle is such a poodle
come home and we will give you some food-le
poodle poodle poodle come home
sprootle oodle whoodle we miss you very very much.

CA is not four years old. Sprout is not a poodle. Whatever. She's still my baby.

I have not finished decorating the room at Ye Olde Tiny Mansion. Not the J'Ollie House, this one is a real live old mansion. They're having a Home for the Holidays Tour starting TOMORROW. Oh the pressure.... The deadline was yesterday. Ye Olde Tiny Mansions' decorating ~~dictator~~ director is cursing me out. She's probably saying "HECK DARN SHOOT" because she's a very nice person. I'll bet she's saying "faux faux faux" in her head........

I have vodka and no cranberry juice. Could be worse.

I STILL have to get my SSS giftie girl her goods. At least I got a list going on.... and it WILL be done and in the mail, I PROMISE.

OH! AND! BUT! We DO have a winner for the Big ~~Count the Wrinkles~~ Guess the Year contest....

.........drumroll............

didja guess? ..................

oh, crap, my ten minutes is up.................

..................it's.........................

BLARNEY!

Congrats! As soon as Santa quits cracking the whip I'll sneak your goodies out to the mailbox!

Signature Magic!

2008-12-03T05:00:00.008-05:00

I'm technically challenged, but this is easy and q.u.i.c.k!

I love signatures and personalized blogs. Pictures, bling, all that ~~time-eating~~ fun stuff. Since I'm on blog restriction and only have ten minutes I can share this.

Go to http://www.mylivesignature.com/.

Find "Click here to start."
Then click on "Create a new signature using our wizard."

Clickety-clickety-click. Easy peasy.
Pick a font and font size, the color, and the slope of the signature.
Then you get to a page that says "Signature is ready" and an option that says "Do you want to use this code." Click on that. There are code options for HTML or BB.
Click on "Generate HTML Code"
On the next page it'll show you a Signature Preveiw. And the HTML Code.
At the bottom of the page you'll see "Click here to read how to add your HTML signature in blogs." Clickety-click click. This is a one time add-on so you have to do it every time you post. There are more instructions so you can have your signature show up every time, but I only have ten minutes and must do things repeatedly anyway....OCD can be fun! I'm not going to do the time-consuming stuff but the instructions are on the website so if you can follow them your signature will show up where you want it when you want it. That part looked fairly easy too.
The fun part is that you can do phrases or anything you please! I can't wait to see what Tiffany writes with her wizard pen!
time's up. back to work, the elves are getting cranky and Santa's giving me the stinkeye. Have a great day!

Merry SITSmas!

2008-12-02T05:16:00.007-05:00

Ho Ho Ho! Santa Claus is coming to town early! The SITS girls have put on their Santa hats and come up with a great giveaway & shameless promotion of Busy Mom Businesses!

Jump over to SITS for a whole day of Christmas giveaways & discounts (ahem. Check out J'Ollie Primitives' giveaway and their secret discount code WISHLIST on SITS' blog!)

There are HOURLY Giveaways ALL DAY!

The GRAND PRIZE from the SITSAS is a $200.00 Target gift card! AND you could be a Featured Blogger on their Friday Favorite!

I'll be posting the winner of the ~~count the wrinkles~~ Guess the Year contest tomorrow. (I'm late, I stink, sorry)

Our Christmas wish for you ~ Peace, Love, & Joy

If you're on the SITS bloggy trail, Princess & Pickles is in front of me, and Anna is up next! (Shaking fist at Mr. Linky)

Welcome to AnonyBlog!

2008-11-26T09:57:00.002-05:00

Somebody mentioned on their blog that they weren't all that ecstatic about the mandatory holiday visiting with in-laws, out-laws, friends and foes. That she needed a private blog to vent about it anonymously. And that she wouldn't mention anything ~ well ~ that could be traced back to the author.

Welcome to AnonyBlog! Got something you want to vent about but you can't because "that person" might read your blog and be offended? Got something to say? Do you just like visiting? Come on over and do a guest post!

The holidays are upon us. We're getting busy. I have ten minutes to jump into BlogLand, read a post, comment, heave myself out of the Office Chair of Doom and get back to work. This means I get ten minutes to post something.

~~I need blog fodder, people.~~

Time's up.

Reach Out and Touch Somebody's.....Blog!

2008-11-24T19:25:00.003-05:00

OK, everybody, join hands and start humming "Reach Out and Touch Somebody's Hand" as we record the MotherLode of MeMes!

I would have downloaded a Real Singer from YouTube to do the backup but they were annoying. Sorry Diana Ross, that does include you. talk about being upstaged.....

My fellow nurse Tenakim tagged me for this awesome meme.....I'm so excited that I've put down my paintbrush and plunked down in the Office Chair of Doom....once I sit here there is a good chance that I will not be seen or heard from for several hours.....

Rule 1. List the first ten people who have commented on one of your blog posts.

1.) Mrs. Tee @ My Delighful Home ~ I could be her twin except I don't cook, decorate or even attempt to finish a project.....this girl has Martha Stewart afeared and ascared of being upstaged...

2.) Miss Liberty all the way up in Canada @ Liberty Post ~ Oh.My.Goodness. She's smart, funny, takes photos that will make you drool (ok maybe not THAT photo) To me she is Blogging Nirvana. Go Forth and COMMENT on her awesomeness.

3.) My sentimental favorite, Carolina Girl @ Ramblings of a 30-Something Year Old Single Girl She commented on a post when all I said was "I got nothin", she gave me my first Butt Kicker Award, and she can ramble like no other. Maybe if I butter her up enough I can visit her in sunny South Carolina !

4.) Carrie @ The Gremlin Wrangler Another awesome photographer. Watch her juggle work, wrangle four home-schooled kids, work and life in general. She sends hilarious letters to her customers that will make you laugh.

5.) Rhea. The one with the rockin' pink cowgirl hat @ Texas Word Tangle. This girl can make cleaning toilets a little more bearable. Obi Wan-Kenobi just gave her a pink light saber to guide her through the darkness...uh, to match that awesome hat.

6.) Mama Kat, the attention-craving poodle over @ Mama's Losin' It. The Queen of Blogdom, Writer's Workshops, and opener of a can of whoop-ass on whatever issue might be bothering her a little. Go see her call the ad execs at Motrin ninny-poops.

7.) and of course the beloved and very-much-missed (she's been on a CRUISE, we should be jealous and green but we love her too stinkin' much) *JJBB*! JillJillBoBill got me hooked when she posted about stealing amybobamey's name...jjbb was all "By this time I am sweating profusely and getting cotton mouth.My worst fear has come true. I am a COPY-CATTER. Only accidentally." What's not to love about jjbb? I wonder if she brought me a souvenier.....

8.) Another All-Time Absolute Hands-Down FAVORITE ~ the sparkling Snooty Primadona! This woman has had several lives in one lifetime. Adventure, drama, tragedy, and joy all wrapped up in one wonderful snooty package. She.Is.Fabulous. AND she cooks like a diva!

9.) Mama Cracked blogs about life and motherhood, frugal finds and big wishes. It's been far too long since I've visited her blog.

10.) whew! Last but but not least is the wonderful Manic Mariah! She weaves such poetic images....dreamy fantasies of lavender and moon dust.....and brings us back to reality with a thump when her bird's butt gets sewn up. If that's not reason enough to visit her, Grandma Pearl is.

***What is your favorite post from #3's blog?

This one.....the First Date Recap. What can I say, I am a huge sucker for romance. *Sigh*

***Has #10 taken any pictures that have moved you?

Too many to count. This one, this one, and this one. I could go on.

***Does #6 reply to comments on their blog?

About as often as I comment on hers, which hasn't been too often lately. When MamaKat has 122 comments every time she posts something, she shouldn't have to return the compliment. She'd never get anything done and would have a terrible case of butt-itis from sitting at the computer all day.

***Which part of Blogland is #2 from?

Canada! I didn't even have to look that one up! yay me!

***If you could give one piece of advice to #7 what would it be?

I would advise her to take all of us on a cruise the next time she gets it in her head that she wants to get on a large boat with no Internet connection.

***Have you ever tried something from #9's blog?

She decorates. I live in a warehouse/zoo. She's frugal. I'm so cheap I don't buy anything that does not ensure survival. She has reveiws for toddler toys. Now those could be fun! BATHTUB CRAYONS! looooove them!

***Has #1 blogged something that inspired you?

Yummy Pumpkin Cake, I mean *bread* A beautiful (clean) kitchen. Gauzy ribbons tied around chairs. I'm so dreamin'. Considering I'm NOT cooking, cleaning or doing anything domestically productive....

***How often do you comment on #4's blog?

I've been kinda sadly lacking in the comments to Carrie department lately. now I kinda feel bad. Pardon me while I go comment.

***Do you wait excitedly for #8 to post?

Heck yes! Because we are all maturt like that. Snooty always has something interesting to say.

***How did #5's blog change your life?

Color. She inspired me to change up the color on my posts. "Cuz it's pretty. Small steps, people, I just learned how to copy & paste last year....

***Do you know any of your 10 bloggers in person?

Not yet!

***Do any of your 10 know each other?

Only in Blog Land, not IRL.

***Out of the 10, which updates more frequently?

They're all frequent, if not DAILY. *One more thing to aspire to*

***Which of the 10 keep you laughing?

Snooty, Mariah, Carolina Girl, JJBB, MamaKat, Rhea and Carrie are all conspiring to make their readers happy. Sometimes so dang happy-you-pee-a-little-or-spit-coffee-on-the-keyboard-happy. Either one is a huge compliment.

***Which of the 10 made you cry (good or bad) tears?

Those guys up there on the last question. It's a conspiracy, I tell ya. Some folks have written so provocatively about their past you just can't help but get a little weepy. Some posts are so funny that I'm crying and laughing and scaring the cats. Often it's in the same post.

Play on, I am played out!

Remember to enter yourself in the contest!

Give A Gift, Win A Gift! Guess the Year!

2008-11-20T21:15:00.014-05:00

When doing your Christmas cards this year, take just one card and send it to this address.
Pass this on! Sorry for the lengthy amount of info below.

Send a Christmas card to any service member! A card letting them know that they are appreciated means so much. When you are writing your Christmas cards please send one to the address below:

Holiday Mail for Heroes
PO Box 5456
Capitol Heights, MD
20791-5456

Please follow these guidelines to ensure that your card will quickly reach service members.
All cards must be postmarked no later than Wednesday, December 10, 2008.
Participants are encouraged to limit the number of cards they submit. If you are mailing a large quantity, please bundle the cards and place them in large mailing envelopes. Each card does not need its own envelope or postage.
Please ensure that all cards are signed.
Please use generic salutations such as “Dear Service Member.” Keep messages short.
Please do not include email or home addresses on the cards.
Please do not include inserts of any kind, including photos, as these items will be removed during the reviewing process.
Phone Cards and Care Packages won't be accepted with the holiday cards. Those wishing to send calling cards or gift cards/certificates should go to http://www.aafes.com/, scroll down to "AAFES Community Connection" and click on "Help Our Troops Call Home."

Go to http://www.americasupportsyou.com/ and click under "Homefront Groups" to find out how to send care packages.

Please pass it on! I'll be posting addresses for our overseas soldiers and sailors soon.

And now for the CONTEST! All you have to do is guess the year this picture was taken.

Easy peasy, right? ~~you could guess that it had been over a week since I took a shower judging by the state of my hair but we won't go there.~~

Post a comment with your guess. Pre-WWII year guesses do not count and will be frowned upon by the blog administrator. I'm not THAT old.

Anybody coming ~~remotely close~~ within three years of the correct year will have their name thrown into the hat. You can guess the same year that another commenter entered! I might shamelessly copy-dog nikkicrumpet and have my boys Frank and Magoo pick the big winner.....on second thought they'd eat up all of the names so fast there wouldn't be a chance of establishing a winner.

The winner of the Last Known Picture of Linda With a Waistline will be randomly selected on Sunday November 30th.

Fabulous prizes will be dispensed. Chocolate, Christmas goodies, and joy in a box will be sent to the winner. You must have a US address and an email or blog address so I can contact you.

Leave me a comment with your Guess the Year and don't forget! Send a Christmas card to one of our servicemen and women! Good luck!

ETA: Frizzy at Heaven's Gift has Care Package addresses that cover many needs, including blankets, adaptive clothing for wounded servicemen, and supportive technology for our troops. If a card doesn't do enough, please check out the links on her blogsite.

Technically Challenged

2008-11-18T09:58:00.004-05:00

What I don't know about computers could fill a book. Or a library.

A sixth-grader taught me how to open my own email account and how to get on the internet.
Do not ask a sixth-grader how to compose a new email account address.
I joined a Working Women's Group at church. One of the first things we were asked for was our email address so we could get updates on the next meeting, church fund-raisers and all of the information that we needed.
Lady #1 announced her email address was sadiehawkins@centel.blabla.net.
The next one proudly stated that her address was genesimmons@prominentbankinginstitution.com
So on and so forth. All of them used a real name and a respectable internet provider address.
Me? I had to hang my head in shame and mumble puggylover@hotmail.com .

I love pugs. But saying "lover" and "hot" in church just seemed w.r.o.n.g.

Then I found eBay.

There was a group of botanical prints that I wanted. Really really wanted. Somebody else wanted it too.
I think the bid was up to fourteen bucks.
I typed in 16.00.
The computer froze.
Typed it in again.
The zeros wouldn't show up.
I banged on that zero key in a desperate attempt to WIN THAT PRINT.
My bid finally showed up.
16000.
16 thousand.
dollars
oooops.
The Other Bidder lost.

Up Or Down?

2008-11-14T10:55:00.007-05:00

Mr Sweetie is a polite and considerate person.

Really.

Being polite and considerate he likes to leave the toilet lid in the non-functional but aesthetically pleasing DOWN position.

I'm more in favor of the less aesthetically pleasing but fully functional Leave It Up So I Can Make It There Quick position.

We have two bathrooms. One is conveniently located two giant steps away from the Office. This is very important when I have guzzled forty-eleven cups of coffee before 8 AM.

The other bathroom is about a mile away, further if you've had more than your fair share of caffeine.

Sadly the convenient bathroom is out of comission. First there was a minor leak. Then a big flood.

Do you know the rules of gravity? That "shit rolls down hill" theory?

Water follows the same rules.

Duh.

My FIL came over yesterday to "fix" the toilet.

Mr. Sweetie elected to have some manly assistance because he has issues with my ability to follow directions. And his two bum shoulders do not appreciate lifting a toilet's weight.

FIL says "Uh-oh"

The subfloor is wet. Because water just had to follow the rules.

The throne is now majestically parked in the middle of the bathroom. The subfloor is drying. Slowly.

Look on the bright side. Now I can finish the paint job I started ten years ago.

Bead board. Wouldn't bead board look GREAT in there? Maybe a new sink too. I never did like that sink.

I think some new towels might be in order. Since the good ones are in a heap on the floor after being used to mop up toilet water. Just sayin'.

Anyway. In the meantime I'm going to have to:
a.) cut down on the coffee (not an option)

b.) run faster (not happening)

vault the dog gate and whiz (heh heh) into the far-away bathroom.

Where the lid is aesthetically.stubbornly.irritatingly. DOWN.

Please God don't let me pee on the seat.

'Cause I'm the Cleaner-Upper and I don't want to go there.

Fur Babies

2008-11-13T16:04:00.009-05:00

I used to love to travel. The Army had a slogan. FTA. Fun Travel Adventure. Once I joined, I found that FTA stood for a different acronym. I'll leave that one to your imagination. If you can't figure it out I'll email it to you. 'Cuz we only say Faux on this here blog.

One of the places we ended up was Oklahoma. I earned my nursing degree and a divorce decree in Oklahoma. *sing that to a country tune, it's a sure hit*
Hi Tiffany!

My ex didn't want anything. I sure didn't want anything either. I put up a big old MOVING sale in front of the house and sold everything off. One unintentional thing that went with the furniture was my daughter C.A.'s cat. Either she was hiding in the dresser as it went out the door, or she escaped during the Great Furniture Evacuation.

We ended up at the local APL hoping to find Sadie. I think maybe she met the Rottweiler next door but I wouldn't say that to a four-year old. We found.....Wild Bill.
Bill looked like a small bear. I thought he would eat up my precious little daughter.

He didn't. We took him home to Ohio. Clementine came too. (that's Bill on the right with the pearls. W.i.l.d. Bill). (not really, but it could be him)

Years passed. The Zoo got bigger. I'm a sucker for beasties...Mr. Magoo. Sprout. Rosie & Luna. Frank. Pierre. Ollie. There is a NO MORE PETS rule at the J'Ollie Home. Ollie was a rule breaker. Dang him.

WHO brought all of these beasties home? C.A. The one beastie who no longer lives here at least she doesn't live here THIS MINUTE. Things change.
WHO called the other night to say "Guess what? I'm fostering two kitties! They are so stinkin' cuuuuute!" *insert baby talk to stinkin' cute kitties here*

We had a breif but meaningful discussion on the definitions of FOSTERING and KEEPING.

No.More.Pets.Not.Even.One.Much.Less.Two.

The point to this post? Go to the top left corner. There's a purple button there. Click on it. Go on, click it. There. You've just filled .6 bowls of food in an animal shelter. Clicking that button will take you to a web site. You just click on one more button to feed an animal. For every click the web sponsors will pay for .6 bowls of food. The Food Lady thanks you. The shelter animals thank you. About those two foster kitties.........they will be given as Fabulous Prizes to the first taker.

Don't You Hate It When....

2008-11-12T23:53:00.009-05:00

You go to the grocery store and fill up your cart with a month's worth of groceries.

well it looks like a month's worth

using your list and your carefully planned monthly menus.

as if yeah right, totally wingin' it on the menu

You *sigh* at the cash register as you surrender your $$$

Take it all home, put it away and feel a sense of accomplishment at once again providing
your family with sustenance ~

late at night looking in the fridge a little whiney voice says

"there's nothing to eat........"

and that little whiney voice is your own?

Yeah, me too.

Shelle over at BlokThoughts is hosting "Don't You Hate It When....." Monday November 17th. Go on over and check her out, and remember to VOTE on Tuesday. For the Don't You Hate It When Winner, not the Prez. Been there done that.

Oh No He Didn't

2008-11-11T13:25:00.003-05:00

Faux (pronounced /ˈfoʊ/, like "foe") is a French word for false or fake. It is often used in English phrases such as faux pearls, faux fur, and faux pas.

Except when you go to the hardware store with your Significant Other and he picks up a flyer that advertises a FAUX painting class and says........

"hey! a F***K painting class! Sounds like something you might want to try, honey!"

picture me with a faux smile plastered to my face.

If I weren't so ~~cranky~~ hormonally challenged it would have been amusing.

thank goodness the store was full of men who didn't know how to pronounce it either.

Please Excuse Me From Monday....

2008-11-10T14:37:00.005-05:00

Remember those ~~carefully forged~~ notes we had to take to school to excuse our absences?

Dear ~~Teacher~~ ~~Followers~~ Friends,

Please excuse J'Ollie Linda from ~~school~~ posting today. She is not feeling Jolly. Her head is spinning like Linda Blair from The Excorsist and she is going batshit crazy if anybody so much as asks for a matching pair of socks. She is only being pretend nice to get through the day without hurting any feelings. And her fonts are misbehaving.

too bad that won't get me out of work. Darn.

Stealth Mommies

2008-11-06T09:59:00.006-05:00

In an effort to remind our children that they have parents who refuse to grow up, here comes a True Story.
My little sister lives about five houses down from me. She has all the cool toys. Nintendo, Wii, the biggest TV on the block....oh. Maybe I should say her hubbie has them. But he shares.

My sisters and their kids were visiting at my house one November evening. It was Indian summer. We were all feeling a little Indian summer fever ~ kind of like spring fever when you feel motivated to get outside and enjoy the weather. The kids took advantage of the warm evening by walking all.the.way. to Stew's house to watch a movie and play with the cool toys.

Because we're mature and parent-like we thought up a ~~totally lame~~ fun prank. The kids said they were going to watch Halloween or Friday the 13th. Some movie where there's always a boogeyman sneaking up on the unsuspecting ~~fool~~ kid innocently minding their own business.

We were going to scare the beejeezus out of our innocent childrens.

I think it was Big Sis K. "Let's put nylons over our heads and act like we're burglars. We can sneak up to Stew's house and peek in the window and make burglar noises!"

None of us really knew any good burglar noises but we had fun cutting up my stockings and admiring ourselves in the mirror with them pulled over our faces. We thought we looked pretty darn scary.

Stew tends to snort when she laughs. BS K. goes "BWAAAHAAHAAHAAAHAAA" and I sound like I'm choking and gasping for my last breath.Try holding in that kind of noise when the sisters are acting the fool. It ain't easy.
We oh-so-quietly sneaked around the back of Stew's house and ducked under the window. Quick peek ~ innocent children are strewn about the couches, the Scary Movie Music is blasting.....

the plan was to s-l-o-w-l-y rise up and scare the crap out of the kids with our masks and our frightening noises when they saw us at the window.

"BWAAAHAAHAAAHAAAHA.snort.gasp.choke" We lost it. We were too busy laughing to be frightening. Dang.

"Oh. Hi, Mom" said a kid.

and they alllll turned back to the TV like their moms were acting normal.......

which maybe we were.

Advice From Dr. Gin and Dr Tonic

2008-11-05T06:00:00.004-05:00

Subject: Health Alert for Women

Do you have feelings of inadequacy?

Do you suffer from shyness?

Do you sometimes wish you were more assertive?

If you answered yes to any of these questions, ask your~~bartender~~ doctor or pharmacist about Margaritas. Margaritas are the natural way to feel better and more confident about yourself and your actions.

Margaritas can help ease you out of your shyness and let you tell the world that you're ready and willing to do just about anything.

You will notice the benefits of Margaritas almost immediately and with a regimen of regular doses you can overcome any obstacles that prevent you from living the life you want to live.

Shyness and awkwardness will be a thing of the past and you will discover many talents you never knew you had.

Stop hiding and start living, with Margaritas.

Margaritas may not be right for everyone. Women who are pregnant or

nursing should not use Margaritas.

However, women who wouldn't mind nursing or becoming pregnant are encouraged to try it.

Side effects may include:

- Dizziness, nausea, vomiting, incarceration

- Erotic lustfulness

- Loss of motor control

- Loss of clothing

- Loss of money

- Loss of virginity

- Attraction to the same sex

- Table dancing

- Headache

- Dehydration

- Dry mouth

- And a desire to sing Karaoke

WARNING:The consumption of Margaritas may make you think you are whispering

when you are not.

WARNING:The consumption of Margaritas may cause you to tell your friends

over and over again that you love them.

WARNING:The consumption of Margaritas may cause you to think you can sing.

WARNING :The consumption of Margaritas may make you think you can logically

converse with members of the opposite sex without

spitting.

PLEASE NOTE: Extensive research reveals that Appletinis, Cosmopolitans, and Long Island Iced Tea are as effective if not better than Margaritas.

thanks to Big Sis K for the health alert today!

Oh No It's A Tissue Post

2008-11-04T15:40:00.009-05:00

Mom died eight years ago. It seems like yesterday and it seems like forever.
She was no saint, although her kids like to put her on a pedestal.
She loved us enough to allow us to make our own mistakes, and fix them ourselves.
She loved to laugh and eat ice cream. Simultaneously if possible.
She had a steel backbone and a gold heart.
She knitted mittens and hats for her chemo nurses.
She was a horrible housekeeper who loved to have friends visit.
The closest she ever came to saying "I love you" was "I appreciate you."
We knew it anyway.

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE
enough
money within her control to move out
and rent a place of her own,
even if she never wants to or needs to...

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE
something
perfect to wear if the employer
or date of her dreams
wants to see her in an hour....

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE...
a youth she's content to leave behind...

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE
a past juicy
enough
that she's looking forward to
retelling it in her old age...

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE
a set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill
and a black lace bra....

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE
one friend who
always makes her laugh... and one who lets her cry...

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE
a good piece
of furniture not previously owned by anyone else in her
family....

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE
eight
matching plates, wine glasses with stems,
and a recipe for
a meal
that will make her guests feel honored...

A WOMAN SHOULD HAVE
a feeling of
control over her destiny...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW
how to quit
a job,
break up with a lover,
and confront a friend
without
ruining the frindship...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW
when to try harder
and when to walk away...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
that she can't change the length of her calves,
the width of her hips, or the nature of her parents..

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW..
that her childhood may not have been perfect...
but it's over...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
what she
would and wouldn't do for love or more...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW....
how to live alone...
even if she doesn't like it...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW..
whom she can trust,
whom she can't,
and why she shouldn't take it personally...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...
where to
go...
be it to her best friend's kitchen table..
or a
charming Inn in the woods.... when her soul needs
soothing...

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW..
What she can and can't accomplish in a day...
a
month...and a year...

Maya Angelou

*"Another thing. If you're missing me I want you to know I'm not missing you.Gone is gone.I never miss anyone or anything because it all becomes a lovely memory. I guard my memories and love them, but I don't get in them and lie down."
Ole Golly Waldenstein*

*from Louise Fitzhugh's "Harriet the Spy"

Mom is having a great time romping around in Heaven with my dad. Every time she'd see a penny on the ground she'd say "Pennies from Heaven!" There's one penny that's been in my driveway for the past eight years. It moves around, but I usually see it somewhere near my car. I like to think it's her way of saying Hi every once in awhile. Hi, Mom!

It Was A Wonderful Life

2008-10-31T23:51:00.006-05:00

Goodbye, Studs. You'll be missed.

I first got acquainted with you when I was 17.
Working: An Oral History ~"People Talk About What They Do All Day and How They Feel About What They Do."
I still have that yellowed and dog-eared book with my loopy teen-aged handwriting claiming the book as mine. It's travelled with me to Texas, Germany, Oklahoma and back home to Ohio. It's holding up pretty well for a thirty year old paperback.
Hard Times: An Oral History of the Great Depression.
Will the Circle Be Unbroken: Reflections on Death, Rebirth and Hunger for a Faith.
I've read this one at least ten times since my mom passed. It helps.
Studs Terkel died in his home on October 31st at the age of 96. He spent a great deal of his life listening to people and recording their thoughts.
A lifetime of listening. A legacy of listening in his books.

Happy HalloWhat?

2008-10-31T20:32:00.007-05:00

My daughter called this evening to tell me all about her Halloween costume. It was only her eighth call today. Her record is 26 calls but that's because she was at work at the Crisis Center and she'd have to hang up and deal with somebody's problems and then call me back to continue our conversation.

She: "I couldn't find anything at Spooky Central or CrapMart so I ordered a costume online."
Wonderful Mom: "Oh that's nice dear. What did you order?
She: "I'm not a deer. I wish you wouldn't call me deer. I don't have antlers."
WM: (gritting teeth) "Sorry de--honey. What did you order?"
She: "MOOOooooOOMMMM, I TOLD you what I ordered when I ordered it."
WM: "When did you order a costume?"
She: " Last week. Remember?"
*crickets*
WM: "Well, what's it look like?"
She: "I'm emailing you a picture. It's Batgirl but it's not as skeevy as the picture looks. Wait, let me try it on." (rustling and sounds of ~~beer cans~~ unidentified objects falling as she changes into Batgirl ensemble.)

She: "Crappers. The top is fine but the pants would fit a 6-foot-tall man. Oh well, it's going back. It's a dumb costume. Hey BlaBla is on the phone, let me call you back."

*ring ring*

She: Hey Mom, I'm going BlaBla's and we're gonna go to the party. I'm not going to go in a costume unless BlaBla has something I can use, she's got a few."

WM: "What's BlaBla's costume?"

She: "She made her own costume, isn't that cool? She's going as a Korean!"

WM: (what? that's so not PC) "She's going as a Korean?

She: (howling and laughing) "A CRAYON!" (yeah, a kuh-ray-on.)

Oh. Never mind.

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

budget

2008-10-29T01:00:00.000-05:00

Ha. Budget. I bought a butt roast because it was on sale. I'd never bought one before (ewww, butt?) but figured it could go in the crock pot...a 10 pound roast. Or it was $10.00. Something like that. Five pounds of fat removal later I am the proud owner of a crock pot full of shredded meat. I still can't get myself to try it.

Budget my butt.

I'm eating peanut butter.

oh ha ha I made a funny peanut butt-er.

ETA we ate it. It really wasn't bad. Considering that it used to be somebody's backside and all.

....and I Thought I Had Problems.........

2008-10-25T20:10:00.003-05:00

I'll come into the office with a purpose. Usually to get the pen that I left behind, or to ~~check Google stats~~ answer an email.

If I sit down in front of the computer long enough to hit "reply" my sneaky right hand invariably manages to hit the "open new window" button and somebody's blog will appear. How'd that get there? I'll check on just one blog. Then another.
And another.

It's the "Just One Potato Chip Theory" gone cyber.
Betcha can't read just one.

Jen from Buried With Children was nice and left me a comment. I visited her blog for just a minute and travelled on.

I ended up at a little spot aptly named I Am Neurotic.

And I thought I had problems.

I'd never wear shortsleeved shirts when I was a kid because I have pointy elbows.

My sister cuts every teeny tiny bit of white stuff off of whatever she's getting ready to cook for dinner. She thinks it's fat and can't tolerate the idea of swallowing it. But pink and white hamburger is OK. (Hey Stew, that really is fat.) Now I've grossed her out.

One of my friends must drive in the passing lane at all times on the highway. Doing 50 mph.
I found this out by letting her drive ONCE. That was a long trip with many rude-finger salutes from the drivers passing us on the right.

Spending more than a couple of minutes in the kitchen gives Mr. Sweetie the heebie-jeebies. He says it's the critters under his feet. I say it's because I'm going to put an apron on him and make him cook.

One of the dogs cannot go out the front door without sitting down to give himself a good scratching. This creates a doggy traffic jam.

The other dog is ~~darn near blind~~ a little nearsighted. If anything is out of place on the path to the front door he'll invariably run into it. (See above.)

My BFF will not get on a plane. We have driven two days to avoid a four-hour plane trip.

I used to date a blind guy. Going down stairs he'd tap his foot on the step before stepping down to make sure it was there. I find myself doing the same thing years later and I can see perfectly well.

One of the residents in the nursing home I worked at refused to get into an elevator. Ever. She had never been in one and wasn't going to start anytime soon.

Is thumb-twiddling neurotic? I twiddle when I'm the passenger in my daughter's car. It's the only time I do it. Drives her insane.

My brother cannot tolerate large groups of people, even if it's his family. This is the same guy that spent five-plus years on a ship in the Navy with umm large groups of people. He now lives on a tiny tiny island population 143. Hmmmm. Maybe it's just the "family" part that he can't tolerate. (just kidding Al)

What do you do that you can't not do?

ABC

2008-10-25T01:00:00.007-05:00

I borrowed this from Georgie over at Decisionally Challenged the other day. Pass it on! We want to know all about you!

A is for age: 5-0. I look like I'm 23. Good genes. Bad liar.

B is for burger of choice: Mr Sweeties' backyard grilled monster burgers with pepper jack cheese, cilantro, onions and lotsa spice. If he's cooking I'm not. It's a good thing.

C is for the car I drive: Silver '03 Honda Civic standard shift vrroom vrroom car, total bore-mobile but it is paid off so I love it.

D is for your dog's name: Mr. Magoo & Frank the Tank, the Siamese Twin pugs. They are joined at the hip and sometimes other places.

E is for essential item you use every day: My BFF the computer. Don't leave home without it. Since it's a desktop I never leave.

F is for favorite TV show at the moment: Brothers and Sisters.

G is for favorite game: Backgammon. If I was good enough at it I'd cheat but my fo real BFF can wipe me off the board. She's either a really good cheater or a really good player.

H is for home state: Ohio but our roots are in New England. I love New England from a distance. It's too damn cold up there.

I is for instruments you play: Oh hahahaha. I wish. If I could play I'd go for the piano. And the cello. Both large and intimidating. Like me.

J is for favorite juice: cranberry with a little vodka in it. Or vodka with a little cranberry.

K is for whose bum you'd like to kick: My own. I need to get my bum in gear and accomplish major chores today.

L is for last restaurant at which you ate: It's a toss-up, Applebee's or IHOP with Mr. Sweetie's folks either way. It's been awhile.

M is for your favorite Muppet: I love all Muppets indiscriminately.

N is for number of piercings: 2, one in each ear. I seriously considered getting my belly button pierced by The Bearded Lady when we were in Cape Cod years ago but my belly button was hiding under a roll of (must I say it) fat so I didn't. But CA got hers done.

O is for overnight hospital stays: One appendix, and to birth a 9-pound watermelon. Not on the same day. At least when I had my appendix taken out they still beleived in anesthesia. Not so much when CA was born. "Oh we don't use drugs anymore" the nurses would sing. Yeah, they were saving the good stuff for themselves.

P is for people you were with today: Mr. Sweetie, and CA by phone. We are joined at the hip by the phone.

Q is for what you do with your quiet time: Read. Blog. Nap.

R is for biggest regret: Not a one. Regrets are for suckers.

S is for status: (Pinching self) Still alive and kicking.

T is for time you woke up today: 7:30

U is for what you consider unique about yourself: I'm freakishly strong. (not really but I like to think so.)

V is for vegetable you love: All of them. I'm a vega-holic.

W is for worst habit: Which is worse, smoking or procrastinating?

X is for x-rays you've had: Dental. I should do Mr. Sweetie's ABC's, his Xrays are far more interesting. You name it, there's a picture of it.

Y is for yummy food you ate today: Home made meat loaf sammitch. Coffee. Yum.

Z is for zodiac: Cancer.

Ch-ch-ch-changes

2008-10-22T20:54:00.003-05:00

Yesterday being Monday, or at least for awhile I was thinkin' it was Monday even if it was Tuesday and I was late with the Monday stuff....wait. Yesterday WAS Tuesday, right?

Is it Friday yet?

Anyway. I was saving Monday for Serious Stuff. Like seriously considering reviving my career (ok j.o.b.) as a nurse. I seriously considered it yesterday, seeing how I thought it was Monday and all.

Always start a new project/diet/life changing deals for the beginning of the week. That way you can procrastinate till Monday rolls around again. Or Tuesday. Whatever.

Up until 11 months 22 days and a couple of hours ago I had a real job. I was laid off on Halloween. I knew it was coming; the hospital I worked at was downsizing our unit, and the Powers That Be decreed that LPNs were ~~worthless~~ ~~expendable~~ due for an extended vacation.
I was working two jobs at the time, and Christmas was coming. Job number Two was our barn star business. I anticipated a busy couple of months and was looking forward to having the time to devote to the Season of Shopping. I wasn't planning on doing the shopping, I was lying in wait for customers to come buy stuff from us, which they were obliging enough to do.
Lots and lots of lovely customers.
We had so many orders that we were sleeping for four hours, painting.packing.shipping for as long as we could stand up and speak intelligently ~or at least point and grunt ~ and sleeping for four hours.

Good times.

Springtime was a more modest version of Christmas. I couldn't imagine going back to work. I WAS working. I'm STILL working. I'm the Painting/Packing/Shipping/Accounting/Janitor/Food Lady multi-tasking business guru.

When rumblings of "bailout" and "recession" ballooned into full-on bellowing this fall, folks got less eager to buy things that are more of a want than a need. Orders are a little on the slow side. There are just about enough orders to get by on, but I'm feeling the pinch.

Ouch.

I've been very blessed this year. We've managed to pay our bills, keep groceries in the fridge, and a roof over our heads. Thank You very much, God, I'm grateful.

But the Accounting, Janitorial, Human Resources, and Food Lady Departments are all sorrowfully shaking their heads and saying "Get a job already."

Maybe just a little job. Part-time. Now if I could just remember what day it is so I could show up at work on the right one..........

I want to give a shout out to The Nester. She's one of my favorite decorating bloggers. She's also a shameless promoter of all things handmade and mom-made. Today's promotion is Handmade Holiday. Head on over to her site here, join in the fun, festivities and giveaways that she's sponsoring, and check out the mass amount of goodies that moms are making!

The Letter for Today Is......

2008-10-17T11:09:00.004-05:00

r.

what do I say when I wake up ~~at 4:30 AM~~ to find that the sheets must be changed because those "Have a Happy Period" ~~fools~~ marketing execs are big fat liars?

arrrrrrrrrr.

the letter r is brought to you today by the letters P, M, and s.

New Meds

2008-10-13T06:37:00.004-05:00

Dammitol: Relieves stress and aggravation. Dammitol works best in those sticky situations when you've
a: stepped in dog poop
b: spilled coffee down your last clean work shirt
c: locked yourself out of the house, leaving the keys and the baby inside.
d: all of the above. Simultaneously.

Dorkoff: Spray liberally when the office nerd/gossip/borrower steps into your cubicle to drone on endlessly about boring topics, or to borrow your last Hershey's Kiss. You know who they are.

Asspirin: take two now and then to ward off the headache you feel coming on when the kids are throwing all of the expired Halloween candy into your WalMart cart, falling out of the cart, or screaming hysterically that they neeeeed a new ______ (insert current neeeeed here).

Banishmint: Just like Tic-Tacs with a yummy Xanax middle! Take as many as needed and lock the kids in their rooms until they can behave.

RageStoppR: The instant cure for road rage! Just pull out this handy-dandy little device, aim and shoot at the car that just cut you off. It looks like a tiny bow and arrow, but it packs a wallop when used appropriately. Please use responsibly. Aim only at the back tire, not at the driver. Experience with driving hands-free is suggested.

Auntie Flo's All Natural Remedy: An elixer of calming chocolate, compounded with Banishmint and Asspirin. Take as needed, lie down for three days and get over it. Repeat monthly.

Life Savors: available in your favorite flavor. Pop one in your mouth, stop for a moment and appreciate the world around you. Take frequently. Can be habit-forming.

WhatNot: Apply liberally to your hubbie's ears. Instantly eliminiates that annoying "What?" when you mention the Chore List.

WhyNot: Safe for small children. Tastes like candy. Can be given as needed. Effective in preventing questions like "why are you so fat, Mommy?" "Why is that lady's butt so big Mommy?" "Why isn't she wearing underpants Mommy?"

Think Pink

2008-10-08T10:45:00.007-05:00

So many of us have been touched by the dreaded C-word. So many of us have become warriors in the battle to eradicate it.

My new bloggy friend at Nana's Box is sponsoring a series of giveaways in recognition of National Breast Cancer Awareness Month.

"Nana’s Box is a nonprofit service committed to providing a photo box to cancer patients who are undergoing treatment. Nana's Box offers this service to the individual patient with the help and support of families, and those volunteers interested in the emotional support of cancer patients."

If you've never sat through chemo, radiation, or the endless rounds of medical appointments associated with cancer, remember those that have. It's tough. Having a tangible link to family and friends can be a real life-saver in more ways than one. A photo box gives patients undergoing treatment something to focus on other than the reason they're sitting in the waiting room, the chemo room, or the lab.

You can go to her site here to make a donation, or to enter the giveaway. There are two count 'em TWO giveaways each month through January. There are tons of fabulous prizes, and all that is requested is a comment and a link to Nana's Box. A donation would be greatly appreciated too.

J'Ollie Primitives is donating a 24-inch Barn Star to Nana's cause. You get to choose any color, and yes, we can custom paint a pink barn star just for you.

JillJillBoBill has donated her boobs. She is such a giving person. She demonstrates How To Do A Breast Exam With Your Shirt On here. And yes, she will work for shoes.

Feel yourself up. Check the ladies every month. If you haven't had your mammogram lately, get it done. If your health insurance is limited or non existent, contact your local Community Resource Center to get information on free or reduced-charge mammograms. Having your boobs squished in a waffle iron is well worth knowing that you won't need to go through the torment of treatment for breast cancer.

think pink!

It Was A Dark And Scary Night....

2008-10-07T23:30:00.004-05:00

Insane Mama is having a Halloween contest! Write about Halloween, link back to her, and win fabulous prizes!

The following is a true story and not to be confused with an overly stimulated imagination.

It was October of '77. I was 19 and ~~dumb as a box of rocks~~ naive. My sister ~~who wasn't much smarter~~ had married, had a baby, divorced and moved back to Ohio. She needed a room mate.
I was elected, having cheated on the "move out on your eighteenth birthday" rule.
We moved into the top half of an old o.l.d. circa 1910 house in an old neighborhood. The lower floor was occupied by a ~~nut job~~ kooky lady named Bonnie & her three little kids.

There was only one entry door to the house. Come inside and go straight, run into Bonnie's apartment door. Take a right and pound up the 28 wooden stairs, there's our apartment door.

Sister K liked to have a bit of a social life. When I'd come home from my social life, she'd go out, leaving me with her one-year-old. He was a good sleeper and he didn't seem to mind the arrangement. I was a good sleeper too and rarely knew when she was ~~sneaking out~~ leaving if I'd already gone to bed.
Well. "Texas Chainsaw Massacre" was back in the theatre to celebrate Halloween. I'd never seen a scary movie before. Boyfriend took me. It was v.e.r.y. s.c.a.r.y.
Boyfriend took me home. I made him check the tiny apartment. Twice.
Sister K didn't seem to be there.
Nobody was there.
Just me. After midnight. Time for the ghosties and goblins to roam.
I went to bed and literally hid under the covers. And eventually fell asleep against my better judgement.
Know what a chainsaw sounds like? VaROMMM VaROMMMMM VAROMMMMMMM
I woke up to that noise.
It was loud and getting louder. And closer.
I was scared shitless.
then....
IT WAS BANGING ON THE DOOR DOWNSTAIRS.
VaROMMM VaROMMMMM VAROMMMMMM
I.was.going.to.die.a.virgin.
I'm pretty sure I was still a virgin then but I digress.
I gathered up all the blankets off of my bed and ran for the living room. It was the longest and scariest ten-foot run in my pitifully short life.
I hid between the couch and the wall, covered with blankets, pretending I was a load of laundry. I prayed that the chainsaw-wielding beast downstairs would have no interest in laundry.
What seemed like an eternity later ~ it was more like 3 minutes ~ I heard K thumping up the stairs with the baby. Creeeeaaak goes the key in the lock.

"K-k-k-k-k-k-k? Is that you?" I managed to squeak.
"What are you doing?" It WAS her.
Whew.
"Texas.Chainsaw.Massacre.I.Heard.The.Chainsaw.At.The.Door.Very.Very.Scary."
she scared the Chainsaw Guy away, was my logic. But he might come back.......
"Bwaaa-hahahahahaha!!!!!!! Bonnie was vaccuuming the foyer!!!!!! Bwa-hahahahahaaaah!" K was laughing so hard she could hardly get the words out. It's 2 o'clock in the morning. She's cleaning house at 2 AM?

I have yet to live it down.

Leaking, Spewing, and Random Stuff

2008-10-05T11:07:00.005-05:00

hee hee NASCAR DAY......we'll see if any actual work is accomplished by Mr Sweetie. He's recording the WHOLE DAY so I can pester him to get things done and he can watch it later.

Loving this weather, it's so nice & crisp & cool....I'm going to have to devote some serious weeding time to the gardens out back so I can put them to bed. they.are.a.mess. Have been wanting to power wash the house too, because it is a dirtydirty house....I bought a teeny tiny (cheap) power washer several many years ago and it does do a great job, however it must be USED in order to be effective.....

Leaky List ~New Leak: the toilet in the bathroom right across from "the office" has a broken wax ring so it can't be used till "we" fix it. A couple of weeks ago I noticed a puddle around the base and thought that Mr Sweetie was not aiming well when he got up to go in the middle of the night. I eventually got around to cleaning the bathroom and when I flushed the magic toilet cleaning stuff saw that there was a leak at the base.....so Mr Sweetie is not to blame. Problem is now if/when I have eleventy-two cups of coffee each and every morning I have to run through the house to the little bathroom which is far far away when you have to pee..... I'm hoping that "we" can fix the leaky toilet on our own. Last year the water main or whatever the big pipe under the house is called sprang a major leak and had to be replaced. Eight-plus hours of labor, a new trap door to access the pipe, new parts, and a bill that I'm still paying off. Major emergency credit card expenditure. Crap. We could have spent a week in Cape Cod for the amount of money that leak cost.

Old Leaker: Clementine has been using the floor register right.next.to.her.cat.box. to pee in. Apparently it's just too much bother to hoist her arthritic little booty over the lip of the cat box unless she has to poop. How did I make this discovery? By turning on the furnace one night before bedtime and coming out to the Cat Box Room/family room to the scent of Eau de Peau the next morning. The ductwork has been scrubbed, sprayed with anti-Eau de Peau and still there is a lingering peau factor....I'm hoping it's just my imagination. Peau.

Silly Leaker: Sprout came into the painting room the other day, his favorite place to nest ~ in my mile high fabric stash ~ not allowed. I whacked his backside with a paint stick to shoo him out of there and did not realize until after whacking him that I had just USED the stick to (duh) stir paint with....by the time I tracked him down he had licked the paint off of his backside and was spewing yellow foam. He got a face wash and a butt wash to get the paint off, then I had to follow the trails of paint and wash them off the floor....peau. Reminded me of Wild Bill. For some reason he liked toothpaste. When she was brushing her teeth CA would feed him a little toothpaste and he'd foam at the mouth. Very amusing. I can't say that it ever did anything for his stinky cat breath.

She Denies Any Knowledge of Leaking: CA called me the other day and asked me if a back ache would indicate a kidney infection. She said "just Google it or go to WebMD MOOOoooOOOOmmm" when I asked her if she had this or that symptom....because I'm Doctor Nurse and I KNOW these things. So I read off all of the WebMD symptoms to her. Which I coulda done without actually looking them up because I'm SUCH a know-it-all.She would neither admit or deny having any such symptom, just said that her back hurt. She called later to say that she was at work when she called earlier and that she couldn't really go into detail because there were PEOPLE there that were listening to her conversation. Then she went into detail. Which I could have done without. TMI.

End of Leaky List. I hope.

Mom used to give us a little tinkly bell when we were sick and on the couch. We could ring the bell instead of yelling "MOOOoooOOOOmmm" so she could tell that the Sick Child was in dire need of something and that it wasn't one of the Healthy Children yelling. Sick Children were responded to. Healthy Children were not. If you were healthy enough to yell you were not sick enough to lie around. When CA was little I gave her the same bell to ring when she was sick. When she was officially sick enough (with the TMI UTI) to lie on her own couch in her own apartment she called to say "I wish I had a bell." There will be a bell in the mail tomorrow. God knows who's going to answer it since she is officially a BigGirl and living on her own. But a bell is a start. Maybe she can train Mr. Wii to answer it. (Her current BF) He has a Wii. Or I thought he did. Apparently he had borrowed it from somebody else. But she still kicks Wii Bowling butt. And he's keeping the name because I like it. OK, it's noon and I really must get to WORK. Business is still slow. Not good. Enough said about that for one day.

P.S. It's long past noon, and I still haven't been able to talk my handsome assistant into posting pictures of the Leakies. This will have to do. I'll ~~wrestle the camera to the ground /~~ figure out the techie stuff this week. Promise.

OOOPS

2008-10-05T09:00:00.000-05:00

That's 700 billion. Oops. Thanks for not noticing. Or denouncing me for a complete financial idiot if you did notice.

If it was in my checkbook I mighta caught it. Especially when that last $230,000,000 check bounced.

Back to our regularly scheduled very occasional hopefully funny posting.

No Bailout

2008-09-29T15:38:00.002-05:00

Finger-pointing.
It's all the Democrat's fault.
It's all the Republican's fault.
It can't be the fault of predatory lenders, the financial leaders of our country, or Lehman Brothers.
It can't be the fault of the wage earner who bought a home that they couldn't possibly afford if they were being realistic.
The proposal to tax the population of the U.S.A. for 70 billion dollars has failed. For now.
Listening to George Bush's speech a few days ago got my goat. "We are going to bail out yet another tottering institution so that the great American people can get more credit." And owe more money.
Isn't that what got us into trouble in the first place?

Retail Therapy II ~ Thank You, I Feel Much Better Now

2008-09-14T05:01:00.000-05:00

Awesome. Totally Awesome.

Precious Daughter should be writing this post just to tell you how much she rocks but she had to high-tail it back to College Town for a date with Mr. Wii and the Wii Parental Units.

I didn't know Mr. Wii's Christian name for several weeks. All I heard was "I'm going to go kick butt playing Wii Bowling with this guy."

Mr. Wii rocks, even though she did kick his butt with her Wii bowling skills.

Anyway, PD is a shopping barracuda.

We went here:

She parlayed a returned tote bag into a pile of Coach booty.

An umbrella for her, a little wristlet purse for ummm her, and the rare and elusive Legacy Leigh, which legend has it retails for mucho mucho dinero, if you can find one.

They are so rare and elusive I can't find a picture of one without stealing it from eBay.

~~the pictures weren't good so I didn't steal any~~ That would be wrong.

Because ~~I begged and pleaded and cried~~ I'm such a good mom she bought me a red
tote bag. The total? $17.00. Her returned tote bag had been a gift so that didn't count. We were just ~~so full of ourselves~~ delighted that we just had to go the the Gap, where she tried on and discarded sixty-eight outfits in five minutes while I stood empty-handed in the long check-out line, piled twenty-two outfits into my arms and tried on a few more things while I shuffled along the checkout dead zone, appearing only to whip out her debit card as I ~~fell across~~ reached the magic cash register.

Bag stuffed with Gap Goodies: under a hundred bucks. Way under.
Watching PD using her debit card instead of pickpocketing mine? Priceless!

Two dresses and a belt, a quick tour of the chocolate store where we did.not.buy.any.chocolate ~ it wasn't on sale and we wanted stuff on sale ~ a whirlwind tour of
Eddie Bauer, where I scored my own bag o' goodies for Christmas gifties at 70% off, thank you, and we were done.

I thought.

The diamond store. Ack. Twenty minutes, a credit card application for the extra 10% off and PD has bought herself a pair of twinkly rings.

Wait a minute.

I thought college kids lived on Ramen Noodles and that boys bought girls diamonds.

Not this chickie. She's working two jobs and sometimes three, she's a full-time student paying her own way and maintaining a decent grade point average. She has an awesome boyfriend who is under no obligation to supply her with twinklies.

She's not all about the material stuff, even if she is a shop-a-holic. She's a great kid turning into a real live grown-up.

Wer'e going to have to talk about her starting a retirement account.

For her mom.

Retail Therapy

2008-09-13T09:18:00.001-05:00

http://www.outletbound.com/cgi-bin/enh_center.cgi?geocity=86LXPVKB&state_cd=OH

We.are.going.shopping!

Ollie's Big Adventure

2008-09-12T10:30:00.002-05:00

Last night was fun.

Not.

I was getting the house put to bed, you know, locking up and turning out lights when there was a crash in the kitchen. One of those "oh crap, something's just broken into a million little pieces and it's probably your favorite ugly lime-green coffee cup" crashes.

The crash was followed by our youngest cat, Ollie, streaking through the house like his tail was on fire. He'd somehow jettisoned a full sugar bowl across the counter. Kaboom.

Sigh. Out with the vaccuum cleaner.

Suck up contents of ex-sugar bowl. Put away vaccuum. Go find Ollie.

Locate Ollie. Ollie has a m.o.u.s.e. He is very possessive of his little ~~toys~~ friends. We have five yes five cats. No self-respecting mouse should even consider stepping their nasty little ugly scary feet in this house.

We had a minor population explosion of mousies last winter. Even one-eyed Luna and fat cat Rosie managed to bag themselves a mouse and act all hunter-ish and proud of themselves. Earned their keep, they did. More than decorative, they were. Grrr. Mighty hunters.

Last winter, Ollie's first two mice were dispatched without a lot of fuss on his part. Find 'em, kill, 'em, get mad when ~~we'd~~ Mr. Sweetie would take it away and throw it in the garbage. Outside. As far away as possible from me. I'm far too busy screaming and standing on chairs.

Ollie figured out that dead mice made for a really short game. He decided to play catch-and- release. Catch a mouse, run through the house with it clenched in his jaws, drop it in a room where he'd never catch it again, and watch the Food Lady scream.

Last night was no different. Except that he did manage to catch it a second time. Mr Sweetie had had ~~several many~~ a couple of beers and was all wrapped up in talking to his buddy online. He was supposed to be keeping an eye on Ollie and his ~~toy~~ friend but he was having some difficulty in understanding his obligation to do so.

"Where's Ollie and the mouse?", said ~~the chickenshit~~ I.

"Well you know if I go chasing him he'll hide and he'll drop the thing and you'll scream louder." , he said.

'THAT WASN'T THE QUESTION. WHERE ARE THEY RIGHT NOW."

He heaved himself out of his chair and pretended to go looking for them.

"I DON'T WANT YOU TO FIND THEM. I JUST WANT TO KNOW WHERE. THEY. ARE."

"Oh. I dunno. Want me to go find them?"

Communication skills are seriously lacking here.

Crash bang in the bathroom. In the tub. Ewwww. I'll never take a bath again. Ewwwww. There's a mouse in my TUB.

ewwww ewww ewww.

Then I saw it. The answer to my ~~phobia~~ prayers. The vaccuum cleaner. With a 6-foot-long hose thing attached to it. And a three-foot metal wand. Desperate times, desperate measures. Turn on the vaccuum. March into the scary bathroom. Aim shoot suck running mouse into vaccuum. Run screaming. Mr Sweetie to the rescue, takes vaccuum bag out of vaccuum and tosses it out in the garbage pail.

Funny. I didn't know he knew how to turn the vaccuum off, or take the bag out. Hmmm. Maybe he's smarter than he lets on when it comes to technical things like the dishwasher. Hmmmm.

Ollie is still mad at us for kicking his friend out. Just wait till next time.

Ewwwwwwwwwwww.

It Was This Big

2008-08-27T04:39:00.008-05:00

Yesterday was a pretty good day. All caught up with work and ready to do some catch up on the yard work. My neighbors can testify that yard work does not get done as often as they would like here at the J'Ollie Home. We live on a nice corner lot. When I moved back here several many years ago (this is my childhood home; my then four-year-old and I moved in with my mom after her dad and I split up) I was in my 30's, full of beans and plans. I started a garden with the help of my nephew.

It was a fairly big garden, I'm guessing 20 x 30 feet. Full of coreopsis, coneflowers, lilies, and roses. Lots of other pretties. I liked that garden so much that I thought a few more garden beds would be even better.

Eight more. Big ones.

"Man's reach should exceed his grasp, or what's a heaven for?"

Starting projects is my specialty. Maintaining and completing them is altogether a different matter. Gardens require a lot of maintainance. Working full time is not conducive to having the energy to maintain a whole lotta flowery real estate. I am ~~jealous~~ of admire folks with beatifully maintained gardens.

The gardens have really gone to pot. Not that kind of pot. We've been down-sizing the gardens ~~in a desperate attempt~~ to make it look a little more civilized and easier to maintain. The deer have been very helpful in pruning back all the stuff I'm trying to keep. Weeds? Nah...they don't eat no stinkin' weeds.....just the lilies and the good stuff. I wish they liked ivy as much as they liked my Stargazers.

We have the Ivy From You-Know-Where. It's that pretty English ivy that graces old brick buildings. Pretty till you get a closer look and realize that it's prying the siding away from the house, it's weasled its way under the windows, up to the top of the chimney, and will soon very soon will be sneaking down the chimney through the fireplace and into the living room where it will smother the cats and cover ~~Mr. Sweetie~~ any other inanimate objects in pretty green clingy foliage.

Fall is coming. I want to use the fireplace. I want chestnuts roasting on a open fire and some schmaltzy romance ~~and a beer or two~~ while we warm our toes. I want to toast marshmallows.

The Green Beast must be destroyed.

This Old House recently had an episode that featured a couple of homeowners renovating their gorgeous old three-story manor. Part of the renovation included ripping out all the the old ivy that was destroying the stucco. Two women, grabbing vines at the base of the house and r-r-r-r-r-ipping it off all the way past the second floor. As they stand on the ground. Easy schmeasy.

Right. Did I mention we have ivy on steroids?

We started at the bottom and ripped and tore and cussed and climbed a 10-foot ladder and ripped some more. Leaving about 20-odd feet of ivy dangling from the upper half of the chimney laughing and taunting us.

This is gonna mean somebody has to get a really really tall ladder and climb to the top of the chimney to tear off off the tons of remaining ivy. Or hop on the roof and sneak up on it from behind.

This is a job for Handy Man. Mr Sweetie is many things but he is not Handy Man. He is n.o.t. a.l.l.o.w.e.d. to climb ladders. He already broke his neck once. Once is enough.

I am not Handy Man either. I wouldn't mind climbing a really really tall ladder as long as there was a soft place to land when I look down and get dizzy and fall off of the ladder. I wouldn't mind climbing the roof if I had Spider Man's webby stuff shooting out of my sleeves. Maybe I could strike up an aquaintance with one of the Cleveland Cavaliers.

Or some tall guy at the grocery store. Tall guys are always very obliging when a short lady asks them if they could reach her the Buffalo Wings way up on the top shelf of the freezer.

"Hello, would you mind grabbing that bag of frozen tater tots on the top shelf for me? thankyouverymuch. Oh, and by the way, would you come home with me and spend a few hours ripping ivy off of my chimney? No? There's a basketball game this afternoon? Darn."

Team Ivy: 1 Team J'Ollie: 0

That score is gonna change.

Butt-Kickin' Blogger! (Once in awhile, anyway...)

2008-08-17T08:17:00.002-05:00

Wheee!! Miss South Carolina from Ramblings of a 30-Something Single Girl has bestowed a Kick-Ass Blogger award upon moi!

I'll be passing on the love just as soon as possible.

Lots to blog about, no time to do it.

Many thanks to Mr. Sweetie for pasting my shiny new button onto my blog page and doing the linky thing for me. Again, just haven't had time to learn these things on my own.

No sympathy needed. We aren't overwhelmingly busybusybusy, but busy enough to keep our heads above water running a business. We LIKE busy.

Thank you Carolina Girl! You kick butt too!

What, Me Worry?

2008-08-01T15:34:00.004-05:00

I've been pretty much inspiration-free for the last couple of days. Actually I owe the Farmer's Wife a post about how Inspiration Grows Like Mold....the Inspiration is there, but it requires photos and pointers and things. Mr. Sweetie is in charge of the camera. It's one of those new-fangled gizmos with the adjustable flash and all kinds of bells and whistles. I am not camera literate. Yet. Mr Sweetie probably won't understand or appreciate taking pictures of what I want.

"You want me to take a picture of what? How is that funny?"

But that's not what I wanted to say. I got off on a tangent before I even started. Because I was going to post on one of humanities' favorite things to do EVER: (aside from shopping and eating)

Well, maybe it isn't our favorite thing, but we all excel at it ~ worrying. We are a global community of worrywarts.

Those of you whose life is perfect may be excused from this rambling.

I am a Champion Worry Wart. Meet my sister Sue, also know as Stew. She can what-if anybody under the table.

My mom was an underacheiver in the Worry Olympics. Throughout a life of circumstances and "shit happens" situations she would appear to be serene and calm, sailing through as if whatever crap life handed her things were just fine.

She was divorced in the early 60's when divorce was Not Done. She was in a car accident shortly after that and required eye surgery. I don't remember who took us four hooligans in while she was in the hospital, just that she wore an eye patch for a bit and that she acted as though this was completely normal.

She managed to clothe, feed and shelter us on a secretary's salary. Most of the clothes came from a cousin in New England after the cousin had outgrown them. We thought that getting a big box of clothes periodically was shopping. It was as big of a buzz then as mall shopping is now.

Every summer she'd load four kids and on several memorable occasions a full-grown German Shepherd into an old VW Beetle and drive from Ohio to northern Maine to visit her mother and family for a week. Calm and serene, no worries.

When we got too loud or obnoxious she'd yell "Heavens to Murgatroyd! By the Lord Harry!" We knew we'd truly crossed the line when she'd holler, "Hell's Bells!!!"

It's easy to cross the line when there are four small wiggling bodies and a German Shepherd in the back of a Bug.

I spent many of my formative years thinking that God's name was Harry.

She met and married my Dad after a two week courtship in the early 70's. She didn't spend much time at all worrying about putting a wedding together or the implications of spending the rest of their lives together. They just got on with it so they could get to the happily ever after.

The only time that she was really and truly overtly worried, overwhelmed and a jangling bag of nerves was when my Dad required emergency surgery for a ruptured gall bladder. After 15 years of marriage, and seeing the love of her life so ill, she had somehow lost the coping mechanism of saying "let go and let God." She worried and stewed and worried some more. Dad died suddenly ~ complications from multiple back-to-back surgeries led to a heart attack at 55.

Thank God for Stew, I mean Sue. Sue would make sure that Mom came to her house for lunch and a daily dose of Sue-ness. "I was taking a shower with the three-year old and she looked up at me and said, "Mommy, why do you have such big (and here I thought I'd have to explain breasts to a three year old) knees? " " A daily dose of Sue can get you through trying times.

Mom somehow managed to get through our house burning down, her mother's death, and her diagnosis of colon cancer, all within a few months of each other. Once again, she was like a duck, calm and serene on top of the pond, and paddling like hell beneath the surface. When the time came to sign up for hospice, she had the hospice nurse and a representative from Elderhostel come to visit almost simultaneously. She had an opportunity to go to New England to draw light houses, and damned if she was going to miss out. It didn't matter that she couldn't draw a stick figure or that she was too weak from chemo and advancing illness to walk more than a few feet.

Mom was moved to the hospice center when it was time. Had she been alert enough she probably would have hollered "Hell's Bell's" at her four hooligans. She was reclined in a big hospital chair with her little chemo beanie sliding over her eyebrows. We were worried that the lights were bothering her eyes so somebody (Sue) put some sunglasses on her.

The likeness to the dead guy in "Weekend at Bernies' " was uncanny, And I'm sorry, really, really funny.

We refrained from posing Mom in unlikely but hilarious positions. But we thought about it.

Apparently giggling in hospice is acceptable, as long as you don't bother anybody but the nurses.

We got a call from the hospice center the first night of Mom's admission. She'd fallen out of bed but had not sustained any injuries.

When we asked her what she was doing getting out of bed without help she said,

"Oh, I was so worried about the cat."

Moral of this hellishly long post: Don't worry about the cat. Just don't worry.

Customer Service at Its Best

2008-07-31T13:36:00.002-05:00

I was standing in line at Wendy's today. There were several counter people taking folk's orders. One of them was a cute high school age boy.

A burly construction worker came up to the counter and asked the cute high school boy to refill his Coke. Burly Construction Guy had one of those basso profundo voices that can make your toes curl.

He could recite the ABC's and make it sound sexy and romantic.

High School Boy refilled the Coke and handed it over to Sexy Romantic Burly Construction Guy.

" Thanks man. Love you.", says Sexy Romantic Burly Construction Guy.

"Love you too. Have a good day." said High School Boy.

......?

2008-07-28T08:38:00.003-05:00

Growing up, it seems like kids are tagged with labels that point out physical attributes, mental capacity, or some identifying factor that sticks for l.i.f.e. Any time I run in to folks I knew in elementary school and we catch up on each other's families, they don't remember names, but ask "How's the one that was so bossy?"

Big sis K is the Bossy One. She was cast in this role as soon as she acquired a little sis to boss around. She excels at her job and loves to tell people what to do.

Brother A. is the Smart One. He's the guy that took the MENSA test on a lark but wandered out before finishing the test because the answers were "too easy."

Sis S. is the Cute One. She is adorable inside and out. She's so cute that....well, when she was 36 her daughter was a senior in high school. Cute One saw that her daughter had left lunch at home so she ran it to the school. The principal saw Cute One in the school hallway and chided her, "young lady, shouldn't you be in class?" Read the numbers. Thirty-six. All natural. No fair.

Me? I'm the one with the boobs. Now, any of the above labels have some kind of almost complimentary ring to them. Who wouldn't want to be at least respected for their authority or smarts, or admired for being so darn cute?

What the hell do you do with boobs?

Kiss Them Bricks

2008-07-27T12:24:00.003-05:00

The Brick Yard 400 commences today. All customary activity will be suspended. Shhhh. Watch as a bevy of macho race car drivers kiss the bricks. Listen intently as track conditions and shredding tires are discussed in e.x.c.r.u.t.i.a.t.i.n.g. detail.

Say "GO JEFF GORDON" at appropriate intervals.

pop a romantic schmaltzy girl movie in the other TV for the duration.

"Pride and Prejudice" anyone?

Survivor

2008-07-24T14:01:00.004-05:00

I've been reading a lot of mommy blogs lately. Love the mommy blogs. Love the pics of the wee ones discovering the world around them.

This is dedicated to the mommies (and daddies too, I know you're there).

YOU WILL SURVIVE.

You will survive walking your child to their first day of kindergarten and leaving them with the crossing guard because they are NOT a baby and DO NOT want you to go IN with them.

You will survive when they change their mind halfway across the street and come back to have you escort them in to kindergarten. You will not cry, either.

You will not freak out when they come home from first grade with half their face torn off. You will calmly ask "what happened?" You will not laugh hysterically when you are told that Bobby was ignoring your precious child, so Precious Child grabbed Bobby's backpack strap and Bobby ran away. Wearing his backpack. With Precious Child firmly attached to backpack and leaving half of her face embedded in the asphalt. They're just skid marks.

You will agree that a bright orange jaquard print tee shirt, screaming purple skirt and red cowgirl boots do indeed make a stunning fashion statement on Picture Day.

You will survive being named Psycho Mom of the Year. You know very well that you are Psycho Mom because you are insane enough NOT to allow your 14 year old to get in a car with a TeenageDriver.

You will survive a phone call from the Emergency Room saying that your 14 year old daughter has been in a car accident. A TeenageDriver was at the wheel, somebody said something witty like "I've gotta fart", lost control of the car and drove Through A House.

You will NOT laugh hysterically when you arrive at the Emergency Room to see your child lying on a stretcher with a neck brace so large that it would've been a tad loose for the Incredible Hulk. (everybody lived to walk out of the ER unharmed. Any later harm would be a direct result of Parental Violence.)

You will survive and excel at terrorizing and intimidating both potential and official boyfriends. Having the advantage of being a few inches short of five feet tall and having perfected The Look will ensure that all boys will be on Auto-Scared the minute they pull in the driveway and HONK THE HORN for your Precious Child.

You will develop and perfect methods of dealing with Psycho Drama from your Precious Child, who by 15 is considerably taller than you. That's why God gave his children ears. Ears are not for listening. Ears are handles. Pull on the handle. The Precious Child will sit down on the floor and will LISTEN to you with the remaining ear. Do not relinquish your grasp on the handle until you are done speaking.

You will survive teaching your Precious Child how to drive, preferably in a car you no longer have any sentimental feelings about.

You will clap and cheer when Precious Child buys her very first car and helps to pay for it.

You'll survive your Precious Child's Orientation Day at college and moving into the dorm. You will escort her to her first classroom, although class won't start for another day. You will not cry. It feels a whole lot like the first day of kindergarten.

You will survive Year Number 21. Last year of college and on to grad school. You will not wonder where the time has gone. It's all right there. Oh, by the way, Precious Child's major is PSYCHO-logy.

Running On Empty

2008-07-22T22:03:00.005-05:00

Thanks for stopping by. I'll be happy to entertain and delight you all just as soon as I think of something to say.

Or as soon as we get the chores done.

Meantime please put up with my empty blog page. I'll be sure to visit yours soon. Your life is far more entertaining. See you soon!