Yikes, it's a..... baby?

With all the yelling, cussing, and carrying on going on yesterday, we got a new baby out of the deal. They are both doing well. Shell's daughter had a daughter! Again, we don't have boys in this family, for whatever reason. Am seems to think that we have some mutant ova's that cause any boy gene's to be killed off right away or something. Mutant is about right I think in THIS family!

Anyway, here's the latest in what I'm sure is my mother's nightmare of MORE DAMNED KIDS in this family. NOTE: Excuse the dates, I changed out batteries and forgot the date

MOM: I bet you are biting your tongue now when you would say... "You need another dog like you need another hole in your head". Now it's kids. *sigh* Bet you were hoping for a puppy? LOL

Grace Goes Camping

I never understood my mother. She would yell and holler and mutter something about a herd of elephants when we would go up and down the stairs. We had to take ballet to learn how to be more “graceful”. I’m pretty sure that it would have worked, if I didn’t get fat.

The Man and I went camping over the Holiday weekend. Only 2 days worth, but still, it wasn’t at a campground. It was on The Hunter’s property way out in BFE.
Imagine if you will. No electricity. So no lights. No running water. No showers, no TOILETS (yes mother, I will spare you all the details, although I was having a great time with it)! No refrigerators, no cold pop. And no stove, so of COURSE, no convenient cooking.

I’m getting senile to think that this is a good time. (It was)

The day we arrive, it’s pouring. So we jump out of the truck and head up to the gun house, or deer blind. Being the big gal that I am, and the chicken, I was surprised that I didn’t fall down the steps or trip over something and end head over tail out the window.
This deer blind/gun house is only used by old men who hunt deer in the fall. It WASN’T decorated the way that I would have done it. There wasn’t a trash can so it seems that the floor is used for such things as empty coffee/pop cups. Tissues and paper are spread all over, and the chairs are the type that no decent woman would even have on her property, let alone expect someone to sit in!
The rain lets up and The Man and The Hunter build a fire. They don’t let me do any of it, probably afraid I will cause a forest fire or something since I’m used to campground circles. You can’t build a bigger fire than the circle. Not so on someone’s private property. Holy crap!
It rains a few more times before The Man single handedly puts up the tent and our “kitchen”. I say “kitchen” loosely!
I spent the day taking pictures of the wild flowers and poison ivy! The Hunter would point out the different birds, some I’ve NEVER seen before. The Hunter gave me a kick ass pair of binoculars to watch them thru! Now I understand how people can spend hours just watching birds. I saw Orioles, Indigo Buntings, several different types of Sparrows, Hawks, of course the Turkey Vultures, and many others I am still at a loss to identify.
We didn’t stay up very late after dark. We never do at home either. Could be why The Maniac is up at 5am every morning. Helps when you are in bed at 9pm.
Anyway, in a tent, you can hear so much going on OUTSIDE of the tent. So you sit up and try to listen with your eyes. It was pretty bright out with the moon, but still too dark for a city girl.

I heard coyotes in the distance, some littler animals scurrying closer, and night birds. I thought for sure that a raccoon would smell the candy bar I forgot to eat in my bag and tear the tent apart in search of it. I know that the gun lying next to The Man was loaded, but I’m SURE that he wouldn’t be able to get a shot off before my candy disappeared into the night!

I awoke in the morning to the smell of coffee. I forgot I wasn’t lying in my comfy bed. It was percolator coffee. I haven’t had that kind in years. So I get up, stumble around to put on clothes since it was a little cold out, and made my way to the coffee. When I was able to see clearly, I looked over at the tent. No holes!

The Maniac had been up for hours, startled a raccoon out of our camp area, went looking at the deer, did his morning routine and made coffee. THEN had the nerve to talk about breakfast before I finished my first cup of coffee!!!

So for the record. I MADE breakfast. I had to. The Man eats all the bacon as it comes out of the pan, so I had to save some! I made eggs and the bacon on the Coleman stove, toast on the grill using coals from the fire! This is too much work! I am NOT a pioneer woman, nor do I have the energy to be!

And besides all that, who can be graceful with muck on their feet, dirt under their nails and smelling of Deep Woods Off? Instead I had The Man teach me to spit. So much for the ballet lessons.

Computer Game Freaks

As I’m sure it is in most families. My sisters and I have the same taste in computer games. I’m sure you all have heard of Virtual Villagers. 1 AND 2. While we first started playing, we would frequently call each other on the phone.

“I have skeletons lying all over, and no damn kids to pick mushrooms”

Now while this sentence would be a cause for alarm in our lives, and it did, it was related to our games, not real life.

Our conversations started out normal enough, but like someone with Tourette's, we would shout out loud…

“Laundry? I don’t think so”

“You’re bored? Then get back to work”

"How did you get pregnant, OMG, now you are worthless"

“Admiring NOTHING, GET back to WORK”

“Acckkk, my kid is too old to pick mushrooms”

To a normal person, this would make one think that the guys with the little white coats would be called. Not us. We laugh and can understand the frustration. We are stupid.

My latest computer game now that I’ve conquered VV1&2 is "Escape from Paradise" http://www.bigfishgames.com/download-games/1651/escapefromparadise/index.html

Go ahead, I dare you. And send me the unlock code!

Fat Girl

Happy Birthday Mom!

For those of you that know my mom, you probably didn't know it was her birthday. It is. And I can tell you how OLD she is as well! 63!! Holy Crap Batman!

For those of you that know my mom, you probably didn't know that the woman has the biggest heart! Despite what my heartless sisters my say, my mom really is a swell woman.

Some of my earliest memories of comfort and happiness actually stem from her. From her smile when you did something great, to her standing by the stove with a cigarette (you REALLY were bad) and drinking a cup of coffee when you got home from school. Yes, even the discipline was sometimes a form of comfort. (I know, I need a shrink)

I feared the woman more than anyone else. More than the police, principal, or God himself!

But I also love this woman. When it stormed late into the night, all 3 of us girls would hightail it down to the couch, where mom would make sure we were comfy. I remember watching the storm pass while she sat in the ugliest green chair ever.

Even though I didn't know it at the time, she loved us so much that she didn't want us to get fat by keeping all things sweet and sugary out of our diets. Ok, so it only worked until we moved out, now look at us. But her heart was in the right place.

Now as an adult, we still rely on her for all things comfy and not so comfy, but in the end we all know that in a pinch, the woman will come thru. After all, she is our mom.

So mom, Happy Birthday old girl. I'm looking forward to many more old timer stories and crabby moments with you.

I love you mom!

Acckkk

Nothing good to blog about on a Wednesday unless you want me to talk about the weather here in good 'ol Michigan. Hot, cold, hot, rainy, hot, muggy, cold, cold, muggy. Oh, and let's not forget our State Bird: Mosquito. Yea, you read it right. We are arming ourselves with spray, lotions and foggers since we are suppose to go camping. The WEATHER, however may end up causing us to stay our butts home and warm in the house. *rolling my eyes* It's only going to be 89 today. Cripe.



See you tomorrow!

'Dis es Reek, Part II

At the risk of offending some of you, this has to be said. It is my gripe for the week.

Nothing is more annoying OR frustrating as when you are calling to get a service changed, upgraded, etc… and you have called the 800 number only to be connected with a little Pakistany who sounds like they are in a hut with about 100 others. They have VERY poor English and do not have ANY idea what you are asking of them. I was so pissed after my conversation yesterday, that if the guy would have understood what I wanted, I would have cancelled my service all together!

“Sank you for calling Deesh Networ, dis is Pau, howmeyIhepchu?

“Hi ummm… …. This is Fat Girl, phone number blah blah blah, I need to return an unused receiver, get a return box for that, and credit, also I’m looking into the DVR. So please send me a return box for the unused receiver first….”

“Ok, an you resationsheep?

“What?”

“Wha is resationsheep?

“Ummm, I don’t understand”

“Wha is resationsheep to des fat girl?”

“What is my RELATIONSHIP to MYSELF?”

“Ya”

“Ummm *laughing* It’s me… myself… I’m her, it’s me”

“Ok. Wha is de numba of receiber?”

“The number of receivers? Only 1 unused one, I plan to keep the other one, I want to have my monthly bill go down, so I just need a return box sent to me.”

“Na, wha is de numba of receiber, on back.”

“I don’t know, I’m not at home, I just need a box sent to me so I can return it, you need the number before you can send me a box?”

“Ya”

“Ok, guess I’ll have to call back on that one. Can you tell me how much my bill will be when we are down to just one receiver?”

“I no casee”

"What?"

"I no casee on dis scree"

“SIGH… Ok, well I’m interested in upgrading to the DVR, how much per month for that?”

“$5.98”

“OK, well how much is the installation, I know you guys charge an arm and a leg for coming out here”

“Noa, just $196.00 for receiber”

“WHAT? Well then, no thanks I’ll pass on that, GAWD… Ok then, so I guess I’ll have to call back then…”

“Sank you for calling Deesh Networ”

“Yea, yea” CLICK

*sigh*

Shhh, I'm trying to sleep

We survived the night with The Baby. The Man was incredible, taking her when I had my smoking coach on the phone, making dinner, and keeping the damned dog quiet when he would start barking.

You know, I DID have a kid, but I don’t remember it being THIS tiring, this much work, this chaotic. I won’t bore you with the details, read yesterday’s post since it was pretty much a repeat with the exception of the overnight.

The Punk came home early, which was a nice surprise. She had a book bag FULL of medical books, math books, and work books. No wonder tuition is so much. They supply everything!

She was excitedly showing me her homework, and I had tears in my eyes. My little punk is in college. Doing something she’s wanted to do since she was little. I wished I could have done that! So you know me, the minute she leaves, I start crying. I’m so dumb.

They were barely out the door before The Man was snoring on the couch. I’m grateful for the quiet again and we mosey into bed.

That’s when it dawns on me. I didn’t smoke before bed. What the HELL??? I know I’ve been on Chantix for almost a whole week, but I swore it wasn’t working, I am still smoking, they still taste fine to me. The difference now? I’m forgetting to smoke when I would NEVER have done that before. Good! Maybe it won’t be so hard this time.

I have homework from my smoking coach. Listen to a CD from the back of the book, read Chapter 3, page 101 has things to do instead of smoking when I rate my cigarette a 2 (take it or leave it). Hmmm… this may end up working afterall!!!

Have a good Tuesday! OH… and vote for Jordon! But don’t tell The Man!

Who's Your... Grammy

I should have shut my face. I shouldn’t have said a word about my little jealousy with THAT other woman who thinks she will be a grandmother to MY grandbaby. The Man thinks I need to stop with the Grandmother rivalry. Ha, she isn’t a real grandmother to MY grandbaby, so….. … just thought I should have been able to have her overnight before HER!

Ok, so I should have shut it.

“Hi mom, I want to go out tonight, will you watch The Baby overnight?”

“Of course!” Anything to keep THAT other woman away.

I’m stupid.

The day starts out just fine. The focus on The Baby is all we do. Gotta watch The Baby, entertain The Baby, feed The Baby, change The Baby, talk to The Baby, baby, baby, baby.

We did manage to go out to eat with The Queen. She hasn’t seen The Baby in awhile, so this was nice. Of course we went to an all-you-can-eat Mexican buffet. The Man is in his glory. The Queen was taken by The Baby’s antics. Turning around in her seat, laying her head on the table looking at me or The Queen. Screaming, throwing her toys on the floor and making a mess with the food she had. Good thing she’s cute to US!

We get her home and she goes down for a nap. PERFECT. I’m going down with her! Ha!!! I can do this, no problem!

By the time I get comfy, and I JUST drift off to sleep, I open my eyes to see that The Baby is wide awake and in my desk drawer. Her playpen is wedged in between the bed, the dresser and my desk. I keep my perfume, deodorant, creams and make up on the desk. She pulled out the drawer where I keep OTHER stuff and pulled out a pack of gum before I could see upside right.

Ok… back up again. Change The Baby, feed The Baby, entertain The Baby, watch The Baby. Good Lawd… does this ever end? And now she crawls everywhere. So add FIND The Baby. I need to put bells around her neck or something. I’m so afraid that in a moment of inattention she will be eating out of the dog bowl. I can just see it.

We go outside, we go inside, we go outside again. Forget opening doors, I want a revolving door put in. There’s too much “STUFF” to carry in and out all day. Stuff you can’t LEAVE out, she has to HAVE it at all times you know.

It’s getting late, and so in a moment of brilliant disillusion, I decide that we should take a bath. So now we undress The Baby and we both get in the tub. Yes, I forgot that when MY fat ass gets in the tub that the water level reaches WELL over The Baby’s head. *sigh* So I let some water out while struggling to hold her slippery, splashing little self. She gets to splashing so hard that not only does it cause HER to hold her breath, but ME too! She grabs a cup and dumps it on her face, causing her to choke. GREAT. She squirms and moves, and splashes so much that I’m struggling to hang onto her. How does her mother do this without having heart failure every time. Try watching a baby with soapy water in your eyes, go ahead, I’ll wait… yea, that’s what I thought. Keep a towel handy!

After the water is drained and I put her OUTSIDE of the tub, she’s crawling all over the bathroom trying for an escape to her NEXT big adventure. *sigh* I’m tired!

I finally get her powered, lotioned, dressed. I get something that looks like clothes on me, and get The Baby’s bottle ready, give her medicine, do her nebulizer, and she’s ready for bed. She’s a good baby when it’s time for bed. Her mom says she sleeps thru the night, I’m so happy AND exhausted when she’s down for the night! I’m so tired that I get the pooping stare going on.

Finally, The Man and I crawl into bed for the night. I’m exhausted, but am having a hard time falling to sleep. But after about an hour, it happens.

Then The Punk lied.

3am is too early even for The Man to get up. So I put The Baby in the bed with us thinking she just needed reassurance. She’s in a different bed than her crib at home. I am barely awake.

Kick, kick, smack. “na, na, na, na, na na” Smack.

The Man opens his eyes to find The Baby staring back at him… SMACK, kick.

Ok, time to get her a bottle. So I stumble to the kitchen while The Man entertains The Baby. This is not good. How does she stay awake so long and act so happy on such a small amount of sleep. *GROAN*

She goes back to sleep after a bottle, and The Man and I finally settle down enough to go back to sleep too.

We beat her awake in the morning and end up tip toeing all morning. After ½ hour I quietly open the bedroom door to see her standing up in the playpen calling China on the house phone. OMG. I will have to clean off the desk before she stays over again.

Finally, a well rested looking Punk takes The Baby home with her.

“Again, you need to stop this grandmother rivalry. It’s going to kill you.” The Man says to me after they are gone.

I don’t care, I am STILL the REAL grandmother. Now I understand why so many marriages fail after the baby is born. It’s all about the baby and not about the relationship anymore. And with smart assed comments like that… someone is going to end up dead, and it’s usually the father, or grandfather in this case!

And I still need a nap.

I Get It Now...

When The Punk was old enough to be more delightful to have around, there were several people, all grandmothers of sorts, that wanted to take her. I was VERY willing to let her go with them. Afterall, they were the grandmothers.

My mother would get an attitude if I let The Punk go with other “grandmothers” and I never understood that jealousy. EVER. I thought it was funny and actually would egg it on just to hear my mother squawk about it. I couldn’t imagine why she would get so upset or angry about it… until now.

I called The Punk last night to ask if she needed us to watch The Baby while she visited her best friend in the hospital again. The Baby needs me you know, she’s not feeling well.

“Well, my future stepmom, ASKED that I let The Baby stay the night since she was going to watch her in the morning while I go to my appointments anyway, so she’s over there for the night.”

What? I heard wrong I’m sure.

Let me get this straight, The Punk has taken MY SICK BABY, over to SOME WOMAN’s house to spend the night and MY SICK BABY has YET to stay overnight at my house. Hmmm… I feel a bubble of anger start from my toes. I’m hurt on TOP of that. What the hell. How did THIS happen. My ex husband’s finance is watching MY baby, who is sick, and on top of it, gets to have her stay the night before I do? Oh something is wrong here!

The Punk is a trader!

Of course I am expressing my feelings with The Man who promptly makes me laugh…

“That’s IT, let’s go rescue The Baby, who does that woman think she is hogging OUR baby and she’s SICK”

So mom… I get it now, and I’m sorry.

Ok, going to go rescue my grandbaby now…

American Idol?

What the hell happened on American Idol last night? After the babies left, we were able to watch and I think we were able to “GET” it.

Both The Man and I were sooooo sure that Melinda would win that I didn’t bother to vote. We KNEW Blake would be going home last night.

SURPRISE, SURPRISE, SURPRISE!

When Ryan Seacrest said Melinda was going home, you should have HEARD The Man.

“Rabble, rabble, grumble, groan… Blake should have gone home, gripe, rabble, rabble, Melinda sings WAY better.”

Someone actually pays attention to these shows I watch. I think he was more upset than I was. So this is my cue to mess with him.

“Blake is cute, and he has a good voice, he will be a GREAT American Idol”

(The rest of the conversation is left out, rear, backside, and bottom don’t cut it and this is a family show)

Babysitting Blues

The Punk’s best friend had her baby yesterday. I was wondering how that little woman was going to push a full term baby out, but I should have known. Little woman = little baby. No 8 pounder for her! Lucky beotch!

Anyway, The Man and I were lucky enough to be babysitters last night. Not just for The Baby, but for The Baby’s little friend as well. And he’s a BOY! I don’t know how to do boys, so I was eternally grateful that The Man was there to help me with that part of it. I love that Man! *sigh*

The Baby is sick as a dog, but Grammy can handle the nebulizer, the meds, the snot.

Right?!

The first hour starts out just fine. The Boy Baby is sleeping in his car seat, The Baby is getting her hugs and kisses from her Grammy and Grampa, pulling out her toys and crawling on the floor, pulling herself up on us. Just being her usual cuteness!
The Boy Baby wakes up and not seeing anyone he really knows, starts crying a little. He’s a good boy for the most part, and I’ve had him at our house before, so I wasn’t a complete stranger. I picked him up and snuggled him to help him feel better. The Baby comes over and starts whacking him in the foot, so here’s Grammy; “Be nice, he just woke up honey, be nice.” And hug the poor Boy Baby. The Baby got mad or something and started tearing socks off the Boy Baby. Can they be jealous at this age? Sheesh.

The Man and I get the food out and start feeding Boy Baby. Of course, The Baby wants some, so we give HER a little, until she remembers that she doesn’t LIKE baby food and rubs her mouth on everything within reach. Need a towel for that. The damned dog thinks this is his moment before he gets yelled at. Boy Baby finishes his food, and The Baby starts acting all fussy, so I give her a bottle of water which she drools most of, need a towel for that.

I give The Baby her medicine, which she apparently doesn’t like, need a towel for that, and put the Boy Baby in the jumper. I hold The Baby and give her the nebulizer which won’t stay on unless I wrap it around her ponytail. I end up snapping the band on her forehead and she looks at me like I did on purpose.

I’m starting to sweat.

She doesn’t want it on and turns her head, knocking it off her face. She’s grabbing at it. The Man says to try it without it being on her head or lack thereof. So I’m holding the mask over her, she turns her head so much that I’m getting dosed with it too. Well… that’s ok, I could use it! She falls asleep and the Boy Baby is still in the jumper screaming and drooling all over the place, need a towel for that, having a good time.

The Baby starts coughing in her sleep. Then all the sudden, coughs so hard that she throws up. Great, gonna need a towel for that. The Man goes in and gets a wet towel and is trying to get puke out of my hair and from my shirt when The Baby throws up again. Poor girl! The Boy Baby is still safely tucked into the jumper, but wow there’s a lot of drool going on over there. I change my shirt, put my hair up, clean up The Baby, and give her to The Man so I can go make bottles. One for each baby. It’s naptime for someone. Me probably, but I will start with the babies.

I come back in the room just in time to see The Baby sneeze. *sigh* Gonna need a towel for that. Neither baby wants a bottle, so even though I have them both in the playpen lying down with bottles, they both roll and stand up in the playpen. I’m tired! They need to be tired.


PLEASE!!!

I change both diapers and put them on the floor, all the toys are out in front of them, but of course, they want to fight over a water bottle that The Punk put in The Baby’s diaper bag. Ok, it’s been awhile since I’ve had to break up a baby fight?

What? OMG

So The Man takes the water bottle out of the equation and we throw a ball into the mix. They now have more toys than they need. The Man looks over at me. “They are going to have sensory overload here in a minute.” Great. If one of them starts crying, I’m going to cry right along with them, and The Man will leave I’m sure of it!
Another hour goes by; we have toilet paper, and wet towels lying around everywhere. There are empty baby food jars, toys, and wet diapers on the end tables. What the hell happened to our house?

I need a cigarette, I need to go potty, and I needed to do dishes. How does The Punk do this every day? Yes, I know her house is set up to accommodate babies, but wow, didn’t think I was that far off the mark.

FINALLY, The Punk shows up, the babies are happy to see her, probably as much as The Man and I are. We load everyone up and they all go home.

The Man and I are sitting on the couch staring off into space.

“Well, that was fun.” I give The Man THAT look. I’m too tired to smack him.

Rocky and No Bullwinkle

My sister, Am, wanted me to blog about the incident that happened with my OTHER sister, Shell, last night. Quite frankly, I think Am is just wanting to see the sparks fly, she IS an instigator by birthright. So for your enjoyment, Am… here it is.

Last night we had a massive storm pass through. We don’t get these very often, and it is a source of enjoyment for those of us that like storms, or just enjoy the rain that we so desperately needed.

I received a call from my sister, Shell’s cellphone. It was my WAAAYYY pregnant niece, Chris. “How bad is it if the dog ate a whole popsicle stick?” What??? I’m not a vet by nature, but I have a decent working knowledge on what to do if a dog eats inappropriate “stuff” Chris goes on to say that she thought that Rocky would just eat what was left of the popsicle and leave the stick, but she should have known better since he has eaten 4 phone books to date now, a stick was probably just fiber for him. I tell her I’m unsure what to do about it, I can’t imagine it’s good for him, but didn’t know what they could do other than take him to the vet, how would he pass it otherwise?!

Approximately 45 minutes later, it was still raining, although the massive part of the storm had gone thru. I walked outside only to see my sister Shell, and her entire family running up to my house, Rocky on a leash. OMG, she brought that big lug with her. MY damned dog is barking his fool head off and annoying me AND The Man.

We all walk into the garage to let her dog in the backyard. “We knew the only way we were going to get out of $500 emergency vet visit was to get Rocky to upchuck, so we know that he usually pukes a block away from our house, but it took until we turned down your street to get him to finally upchuck. The whole popsicle stick is in there!!!” Shell is laughing her fool head off. Chris is screaming and running because Rocky’s mouth TOUCHED HER LEG, and he just chucked you know. I’m thinking this is pretty radical, but Shell and her punks are laughing.

Poor Big Daddy had to ask The Man for a shovel so he could scoop it out of the car. He comes walking up with it… Chris starts running and gagging, Shell is laughing her ass off. My night is going to be ruined by dog chuck. *sigh*

Rocky has taken a dump in my backyard, Chris has stopped screaming, and Big Daddy has the puke cleaned out of the car, so they load their wet selves back into their car to go home. They have no electricity, so they are pretending they are camping, cooking over the Coleman stove and everything.

That’s my sister. *sigh* How did I get so blessed to have such a family?!

Lot's of Nature!

Since I am STILL down and out with a massive amount of mucus, and The Queen and her minions keep yelling that I am the scurge of the internet these days since I LIVE for gross moments, I will keep it clean today. I know some of you will be disappointed, but it WAS Mother's Day and this is just one of my gifts to my poor mother who has paid her dues in the Gross Wars.

Like I said, I'm still down and out with whatever it is that I have. Still on antibiotics and all, but I did manage to participate in The Maniac's "walk thru the woods" and I did get LOTS of good pics of "stuff" before my camera AND my tired ass decided to die!

Just for the record, my new shoes are broke in. *sigh* And I'm sure I will have scars where all the BARBS on those damned trees nailed me. If I followed The Hunter, he walks thru briar patches. When I followed The Man, he would walk thru low swinging trees that would wack me. Add to that my already tired ass and you can bet that I took a nice long 5 hour nap when we got home! Ok, so it was only 4, sue me.

I don't know how turtles get around in the woods, but this one was out there having himself a good time!

My absolute favorite flower. This one is pink, which I've never seen in the wild before! I wish they didn't die as soon as you picked 'em. And I wish I could have a yard full! *sigh*

Yes, these are the elusive Morel mushrooms! We found a few of them and some wild Asparagas.... mmmmm... they were yummy!!

These are MayApples. I've seen the foliage before, but didn't know you had to LOOK UNDER them to see the flowers. They are really quite pretty.

And this little guy, I'm TOLD smells really icky, but I still can't smell or taste anything, so I wouldn't know. I will take The Man's word for it. I so love hanging out with him in the woods, he finds all these cool things for me to take pictures of. Don't think he meant for me to take HIS pic though!

Expecting Drama!

At 6:30pm last night, I received a call from my sister, Am. Now while this is unusual, I felt obligated to call her back in case it was something important. Since, “something important” is the ONLY reason she would call me during the week, I started to panic. There was no answer on her end when I called back, so I could only deduce that it WAS something important and she had to call someone ELSE to tell them or have them help her, whatever it might have been. In my mind it was something HORRIBLE, a flat tire on the expressway, she needed me to go to the hospital to be with one of her children while they had a bone set, she needed a hair tie so she could watch another soccer game without her hair in her face. HORRIBLE indeed!

At 6:45pm she calls again and I answer on the second ring only to hear, “You got Enquirers and spray? Is The Man home?” Ok, I’m thrown, what the hell? “I’ve gotta poop so I’m coming over and I need Enquirers and spray and I don’t want anyone busting in on me, I’m on that Macrobiotic diet, so I have to go now” The Man is looking at me anticipating what we are going to have to do. She’s on her way over to poop. Great. If I could smell, I’m sure that I would insist on the spray, but unfortunately, The Man used the rest of it during our last Gross Out Fest , so we will have to suffer.

The Man just rolls his eyes when I get off the phone. “Your family...” he says as he shakes his head and puts the fish in the oven. What the hell does THAT mean??? I’m sure he just called me fat.

Greta Garbo

Emailing with my sister, Am, this morning, I was reminded of a phone call I had last week while my bronchitis was at its very worst.

My co-workers said I sounded sexy, and a nurse here at work wanted to know why I got Greta Garbo's voice, who was I trying to be! Smartasses... all of them!

Anyway, the phone call was a wrong number. I don't know why these people call asking for a specific business, then act like they want me to give them the correct number. Lady, you looked US up in the phone book... why do I have to break out MY phone book for YOU. Sheesh.

I was polite as I could be at the moment. Struggling to push a voice out of the voice box that didn't want to work to begin with. The call finally ends with me apologizing for HER dialing the wrong number.

"Well I hope you find your voice. Maybe it's under the bed."

At the time it was one of those fake laugh moments, but the more I thought about it. How clever. Too bad I don't have caller ID, I want to call her back and let her know that I found my voice and it was indeed under the bed.

For now, I'm still working on Greta.

Late night snacking...

I read somewhere, just recently, that eating late doesn't necessarily cause you to gain weight. BIG RELIEF!

HOWEVER... eating dinner THEN eating a big snack late, CAN cause you to gain weight.

They always have to burst my bubble.

Nap or bust...

You know you are tired when you lay down at 6:30pm for an hour nap and forget to wake up.

The Man and I just finished bird netting the strawberries. I’ve only had those strawberries in for 4 years and have gotten MAYBE 6 berries. Damn birds and bugs. So The Man netted them very nicely, way better than I would have, I was just going to keep the old netting bunched up and throw it on top of the box and maybe pin it all down with fencing or something. That’s me. NOT The Man.

He has me help stretch out the netting which has GOT to be like 20 feet long. He picks all the old leaves and twigs out of it. He puts up stakes to keep the netting off the plants so that the birds can’t land on it and peck thru it anyway. He stakes it all down and even puts rocks on the back of the box so they can’t get in thru the other fence. I’m impressed, seriously, even though I’m standing there with my “pooping stare” going on.

“Go to bed, I’ll wake you up in an hour or so” he says to me. I’m thinking he’s worried that he’s going to have to untangle me from the bird netting when I fall over into it! It’s pretty sad when they just look at you and know what’s really going on, what all your faces mean.

So I head into bed. Ahhh. Quiet, cool, lovely bed! I set the alarm for an hour and 20 minutes. I gotta get up to watch American Idol and Bones you know. An hour later, The Man joins me. Ok, 20 minutes to snuggle and spoon.

He shut off the alarm and I promptly fell back to sleep. I figured he’d get up and be wiggling the bed. The bed didn’t move until I looked at the clock. 12:30am. SHIT!

No wonder I’m hungry! I drag myself out of bed so I can eat a bowl of cereal, The Man, of course, has jumped out of bed and I believe he thinks we are going to stay up! Ha! He’s feeding the animals, doing all the stuff we do BEFORE we go to bed for the night. I’m NOT staying up the rest of the night damn it…

Ok, so we watched The Matrix Reloaded. Love being up that late at night on a work night, all the GOOD movies are on. I tried to find out who got eliminated from AI, and of course, they must be keeping it a secret or something, ‘cuz it’s nowhere on the net. I know it was LaKisha, bummer. Saw it this morning on the internet. I so liked her, even though she had a crappy week.

At 2am, I look over and notice that The Man is almost asleep on the couch. *sigh* “Let’s go to bed babe” and I help him off the couch. I take my nighttime cold meds so I can sleep without waking up coughing or choking, and feel nice a foggy in the morning and early afternoon.

So much for a short, recharging nap. We’re stupid.

What?

Week 2 of bronchitis and I still cannot smell or taste anything. Seriously. I remember all my favorite foods and will eat them like I CAN taste AND smell them, but sadly, I cannot. What is a fat girl to do? There’s nothing more dissatisfying than eating a vanilla cone with chocolate and nuts, and not being able to taste it. Not that I throw it out or give it to The Man or anything, but it’s just not AS good as it was when I could taste and smell.

We went to our favorite little hole in the wall restaurant where we go every Saturday, for breakfast. I ordered my usual and only ate half of it. When you are only eating to satisfy your tummy, you just can’t eat as much as when you were eating for taste.

Anyway, the waiter brings over some “Holy shit hot sauce” that has a little skull dangling off the side of the bottle. You know this is going to burn your eyelashes off just smelling it. The Man sniffs it. His eyes water and his nose starts to run. He sneezes twice and hands the bottle to me. Yea… ok, I should be able to smell this stuff. I sniff. Nothing. I SMELL. Nothing. So I inhale like a crack junkie. I feel a tightness in my chest but can’t smell anything, MY nose starts to run. My lungs are crying, my throat is threatening to close off should I become stupid and think that just because I can’t smell it, that perhaps TASTING it will work. Still nothing, just a slight chemical reaction in the back of my throat from smelling it. I hand it back to the waiter and ask if he actually eats that stuff. “Oh yea, all the time”

Could explain why his voice sounds like that. He fried his vocal cords. I’m not going to think about what it would do when you went potty! You couldn’t smoke in the bathroom, that’s for sure. Oh well, I wouldn’t be able to smell THAT either.

Sisters, et al...

My sister insists that her family, me included in that family, are all nut jobs. I tend to agree with her as far as her sister and her mother are concerned. But I believe that she puts me in the same category. I’m sure that’s not fair. ESPECIALLY since she acts like she isn’t one of us.

This weekend was my niece’s baby shower. The family was mostly there. Shell wasn’t drunk, yet, The Queen was fairly civil, and Big Daddy was hiding out in the closet with his duffel bag. Am blew in and the storm began. Not necessarily BECAUSE of Am, but with her snapping pics of all of us at our most beautiful, you can’t help but wonder if that’s what started it all.

My niece started the crying, hormones, sciatica, whatever… *slam* My other niece thought that it was her fault that the baby banged her head and SHE started crying. *slam* Then my OTHER niece forgot her soccer stuff and Am had to yell and made HER cry. *slam* The Punk was already in a sensitive mood, so all the tension set HER off. *slam*

Ten minutes later, Am, all her girls, and the Guest of honor were gone along with all the other guests. So here we are, The Queen, The Punk, The Baby, Shell and I, all sitting around the table with a cake. Hmmm… had I known, Rocky and I could have snuck this back to his kennel and polished it off ½ hour ago! I know it’s not proper to cut the cake without the Guest of Honor, but COME ON, she left! So, we cut into the cake! Mmmm… was good. We all had a piece or three, ok, Shell and The Queen did, The Baby and I barely had one and she made a mess out of it, so not sure it counts.

We cut the cake that we had to cut the tension in the room with. I can better understand Shell now. I need a beer!

GAWD We Are Gross, Part II

I’ve had bronchitis for well over a week now. With all the meds I take, they don’t usually give me antibiotics since that means I have to skip my dose of arthritis meds, or adjust them… whatever. I’m still without a voice unless I REALLY push it out. Still can’t walk very far *Yes, I know, not even as far as NORMAL for me*, and I just have decided to wear a pad everyday to catch the Pee Keep overflow. I’ve had more mucus than I care to ever HOPE to understand. Where it comes from and why the factory up there in my little nose is still working the night shift?

So I’m standing in the kitchen, throwing dinner left overs away when I sneeze a GAWD awful sneeze. My hands are full and I helplessly look at The Man with snot on my upper lip. He casually looks at me, hands me a tissue and says as he does the moving point “THAT looks like you need antibiotics” and walks out of the room. *sigh* Nice one. The honeymoon is over.

Decent Proposal

Back when I was 20, I married The Punk’s father. I wasn’t asked, we just thought it would be “fun”. It was for the first few years anyway. We honeymooned at Cedar Point. What the hell. We were still kids, loved to party, blah blah blah.

So imagine 22 years later when The Man asks if I’m happy and I say “Yes, very.” Then he asks if I could be any happier. “Yes, if we lived in the country”. And THEN he drops on one knee and formally proposes marriage to me. With real diamonds and everything. I’m SURE it didn’t come from Service Merchandise like my first engagement/wedding ring did! Even though I KNOW I swore I would never marry again, this one won my heart, mind and especially my body, so I said “YES” without any reserves or regrets.

My first marriage we drove to Ohio and I put my wedding announcement on the wall of some obscure, out-of-the-way gas station bathroom. My mother called me the following day to tell me that she SAW my Wedding Announcement. WHAT THE…..

This time, I don’t know which bathroom wall to write it on. I didn’t intend my mom to read the first one, so it will have to be one that I don’t intend for her to read either. Perhaps in Indiana this time? Are you reading mom?

Shut it!

So several people have asked why I haven't updated. My sister, in particular, wants me to update it DAILY... "it's only fair you know"... *rolling my eyes* WHATEVER!! Isn't this mostly to entertain those that know me, and to remind me of the stuff that happens to ME? Ok then... so since that's the premise of a blog... ... ... I have nothing entertaining to say right now. I'm still sick... *whine, whine* and while I'm sure SOME of you would enjoy my long, boring stories of endless snot, having to wear pads again, and the stupid shit I've been saying to The Man or The Punk while under the influence of some kick-ass cold meds, I can't form coherent thought yet.

So... SHUT IT and I will try to update it this weekend, Monday at the latest. Happy now?