For some reason

I always feel like my blogs should 'say' something, or at least be entertaining.  Probably because it's a public forum and I feel I must produce for the public.  But tonight I don't feel like it. I'm just going to rant. Heck it's not like a total of maybe 5 people read anything I write anyway.. why can't I just be informal?



I'm tired, but it's midnight and I'm waiting up for my youngest child to come home from the movies. Not sure why waiting up is the thing that parent's do when their teen is this age, but I can't help it.  It's not like depriving myself of sleep is going to make her come home any safer or faster, but it just seems to be the thing you do.



Does anyone else have this silly notion that housework is done only during the day? I have tons of things I could be doing, but housework is not one of the things I'll do in the evening. Silly thought there. I'll do work related projects until I fall asleep, but the thought of sweeping the kitchen floor or cleaning the toilets at midnight seem so wrong.



I went to dinner to visit some friends - mental note, I need to send them a quick email- and while I was there, Jenny came in with her sister. Funny, 'cause I had thought to call Jenny and see if she was busy but I got all tied up in being angry at my husband and didn't. Just as well, I guess. I also had a woman sitting next to me say that she knew me from my children's soccer days. I remembered her! That's a new thing, 'cause there are tons of things I don't remember.



I'm supposed to set my alarm for 2:45 so I can call my friend Dave and wake him up so he goes to work. I think he'd sleep thru armageddon. (Which actually might be a bad thing for him if you think about it.)



I'm leaving for Mexico in a week. I'm excited and I'm scared. I've never been out of the country to a foreign nation before. I hope I don't do something stupid and end up having to be rescued. My spanish stinks, so hopefully my "Please pass the salt" or "Where are the restrooms" won't actually be interpreted ast "I'm going to kill your newly elected President." or "Sitting toaster horse yellow woman without clothes?"



I was supposed to paint in the basement today. I have basement issues. I don't like to go into them. The basement of my parents house was spooky enough. I need to go into the basement because that's where the excersize equipment will be. I definitely need to get over that sillly issue.



Oh well, guess I'll doze in my chair until the daughter returns.....

July 4th

Today is the 4th of July and for years we've skipped the fireworks. Not that seeing things explode in midair and turn pretty colors isn't cool, there's just too much that goes along with viewing fireworks that get in the way. Traffic jams, mosquitos (my daughter is allergic to them), the wait, nasty people seated near you and people who may have perhaps imbibed a bit too much all tend to lessen the effects of the pyrotechnical display for me.





Besides, have you ever really thought about what fireworks represent? War, battles and true munitions. I don't think that when the people in our armed services hear the boom of munitions exploding they are looking up at the sky and saying "ooooooo" and "ahhhhhhh" look at the pretty lights. So, with that thought in mind, I just don't NEED fireworks to make the 4th important to me.



What I did for my 4th of July was to visit with my family, read a post from one of my children about his feelings and experiences dealing with the loss of a grandfather her never knew during a military operation years before he was born and visit the web site www.anysoldier.com . There I found the name of a contact person in active duty and in harm's way who will distribute my letters and care packages to any soldier, sailor, marine, coast guard or air force member within their unit who doesn't get much mail. It's not like EVERYONE has tons of  family they are close to. Even I have a brother who has chosen not to involve himself in our family anymore. Sad but true, some of our soldiers are putting their lives at stake so that we may enjoy our grilling and fireworks and yet they have no one here at home who supports what they are doing! How wrong is that?! (Ok, I'm not going to discuss the politics here, because that's not my point. My point is solely that good people are doing dangerous jobs and love to hear from home.)



Now I just have to collect my goodies, pack 'em up and write a few letters and then I'll feel like I've spent my 4th focusing on the people that matter and not some pretty lights in the sky. If I want pretty lights in the sky,  I'll go see the Aurora Borealis... now that would be MY kind of show!

The Warning

As many of you may know, the East Coast has been swamped by rains and flooding. And what do people want most when it rains or floods? You guessed it, ice cream.

I was having a craving for a local restaurants faux ice cream. I'm not really sure what it is, except for yummy, but I think it's actually ice milk. All that aside, my favorite ice cream-ish treat is a Heath Bar Freezee with extra Heath and no chocolate squirt. On Tuesday, my son was visiting and I thought that after all the rain we had been getting, it would be nice for him, his father and I to go get some ice cream. We piled into his car and headed over to the Tastee Diner. Just as we pulled up, a cloudburst was dumping torrential amounts of rain so we waited a moment in the car before we were going to go in. While we were sitting there, another car pulled up, apparently with the same thought of  frozen confections.

Oddly, a light caught my eye and I glanced into the restaurant to see a 60's era heat lamp swinging wildly and a hand reaching up to steady it and then OOPS!!,  the lamp fell off leaving a heavy metal cable without it's light. My first thought was "free meat" since this heat lamp typically sits over the hunk of roast beef.

The rain was beginning to let up enough that we could get out of our car and as my husband and son were climbing out, I watched in horror as the employee came into view (he must have been on a stepstool) and began to try and re-attach the light to the cable... while it was still a LIVE cable.

I'm sure you can see where this is going.....

While this tableau was unfolding, an eldery handicapped couple started to get out of their car. This was no easy feat as both of them seemed somehow incapacitated. I'm now having visions of the place bursting into flames and this couple getting cremated before they were ready! I began to tell them that maybe they didn't want to go into the restaurant...

Moments after the employee began to fiddle with the cable, all the lights began to flicker and sparks and smoke started shooting out of the end of the cable.  Shocked (get it) by this, the employee dropped the lamp again. By this time, the cable began to shoot high powered jets of flame out of it's broken end, and yet the elderly couple are still trundling towards the door as if nothing were happening. Again, I called out my alarm while I began to back up into the parking lot, my brave husband practically pressing his nose to the glass for a better look and my son laughing and edging away as well.

So how do you put out a dangling cable shooting high powered electrical jets of flame? Well of course you get your fire extinguisher and begin to try and spray it from a distance. Being a dangling cable however, this is kind of hit or miss. At this point the cable begins to burn in earnest and flames are beginning to lick up towards the ceiling. Thankfully, either someone thought to throw the breaker or the breaker went off by itself and the lights shut off......just as the elderly couple were reaching for the handle of the door.  What was their comment?

 "Huh, the light's went out. Guess they are closed."

The guy with the fire extinguisher was still shooting his propellant at the dangling wire and all was coming under control, but you would think that these people might have noticed the flame, the smoke, the haze of propellant in the restaurant, the very nervous woman calling to them in the parking lot (not even 10 feet away) or the two laughing men staring in through the glass.

Needless to say, we piled back into the car and headed down the street to Coldstone Creamery. We went in, stood in a line that never moved for about 10 minutes and decided to try the SuperFresh that was just across the parking lot for our ice cream. After pacing the ice cream aisle for 15 minutes (to which my husband commented that we could have been done over at Coldstone within that time) I decided to buy some little ice cream novelty called "Popables". Let me warn you that these are the most heinous little excuses for ice cream you could ever create, so of course my husband ate all remaining 58 from a container of 60. 

By this time, I'm thinking that some higher power is warning me that I really DON'T want ice cream, but never being one to listen, my son took me to the grocery store right up the street from where I live, the whole time joking about how he was carting around  his parents during flash flooding with gas at 3.00 a gallon just to get ice cream from a store I could have walked to!

By now I know you are all in great suspense and concern over whether or not I got my dairy fix. Fear not!  For I did, in fact, get my yummies... after buying a container of coffee ice cream, a baggie of dark chocolate chips, a baggie of Heath crumbles AND some caramel topping.... my lactose intolerant self had a grand old time!  

 

Fun in the Sun

I may not be as witty and clever with photo shop as my friend Jenny, but I guess I should let you know my side of the story and, ahem, camera. 

As reported in Jenny's blog, we had missed our boat while on the 'drunk bus' and decided to go to M R Ducks while we waited for Frank and Libby to finish their jet ski adventure. (btw, Frank has decided that the definition of an adventure is any event that may result in your death.)

Now Jenny, as clever as she may be, is a bit shy so after she cautiously cased the joint for seats, I pointed out the rather noisy seats by the blender. They couldn't have been too bad because we were served quickly! Obviously the drinks are pretty good here as Jenny quickly guzzled down her frozen beverage and proceeded to  serenade us while we waited for the band to start.

 

Again, her observation is correct as to why our blender seats were probably empty, but they were a great place to start in a crowded bar and as luck would have it, we did eventually jump to a table with a lovely view after watching the elderly couple who were occupying it like hawks. What she left out was that she eventually tossed them over the rail after waiting so long. I happened to snap this photo just as she had launched the old geezer.

 

As you can see, Jenny was quite happy with our "overthrow" of the elderly. We  eventually ate lunch while we watched the old man sink to the bottom as the old woman sang the song from "Titanic" and tossed him her necklace as a life raft.

After our drinks, we decided that the arcade was just the place for two tipsy blondes to go.  (It's a guaranteed win if you take Jenny to play air hockey.) We were pretty evenly matched at bowling and ski ball.  Notice Jenny's fierce look. It was her scare tactic. As if one look from her and all the pins will fall to the ground in fear.

 

 

Next we stumbled onto the boardwalk, (don't let her fool you, she did try 'Club Stumble') and after giving some 'œcookie cutter girls' an incredibly evil look, Jenny decided she'd pretend to be Jonah! She swore the whale was trying to swim away and she was losing her balance. I reminded her that the whale was concrete.

On the trip back to the condo, via the drunk bus, Jenny decided she needed to do some pull ups to work her triceps. She quit after one, claiming that she'd had enough exercise tossing the old couple into the brink and that she thought the whale was causing an allergic reaction and swelling her tongue. I think she's just trying to lick Liberty.

We did eventually make the cruise to Assateague Island, but that's the next blog entry.

 

 

Bessie

This is my cat, Bessie. Although I use the term "my cat" she doesn't really belong to anyone but herself. Bessie is 12 years old and recently I was told by the vet that I should take her home and love her for as long as she lasts. Who can ever say when the "time" is but I'm told she is borrowing it right now.



Bessie came to me 12 years ago in May with 5 of her siblings in a box. A friend who had been working in a junk yard happened to have a niggling feeling and opened up a dresser drawer moments before it was to be crushed, only to find a small , noisy,  wriggling bag of kittens. They couldn't have been too old, because their eyes weren't even open yet. Knowing I'm a sucker for anything that's a baby, lost, orphaned or otherwise in need, he brought me this little bundle. I had NO idea how to take care of tiny kitties, let alone 6 of them.

I called a friend of mine who was a nurse midwife and who owned a small farm to find out what I needed to do.  She told me I'd have to feed all 6 of these squirming fuzzballs every two hours for the first week or so, clean them and massage them so that they would release urine (mom cats lick them when they are babies to stimulate release). With the tasks set and the knowledge that I may not be too successful (kitties are hard to keep alive and healthy when they are abandonded that small) I set myself to being a momma cat.  Every two hours my daughter and I would wrap little fuzzballs with claws in a dish towel and use an eye dropper to feed them formula. We had as much come out of their noses as went into their tummies.  I thought we would drown them for sure, but after losing one kittie the first night (he'd had his tail crushed before we got him so his chances were bleak) we managed to rasie 5 little fluffs.

Our next task was to find our rapidly growing babies a new home. My children networked four of our little fuzzies into new homes when they were ready to go and we were left with one kitten, named Molly. Molly was an adorable calico that followed my daughter around like a puppy might. Soon, the kitties were ready and they each were picked up and taken to their new homes, except for one that had been named, Two Face.  Two Face's prospective new family had found that they were going to have to move and couldn't keep a new kitten. So the networking went on again and we found Two Face, now renamed Briar Rose, another home. As luck would have it, this new family ALSO changed their minds and said they couldn't keep Briar Rose either. I took this as a sign and decided I needed to keep my fluffy calico friend with her sister and thus, she was renamed Bessie. Molly the short haired calico  and Bessie the fluffy calico, my two English country cats. 

Bessie and Molly were a true delight. They played with each other, curled up with the family dog, Butch, and found new nooks and crannies to hide in. You were never sure if you were going to be able to get a tissue from the Kleenex box without finding the two of them curled up and snoozing intertwined inside of it. They came when called, always led my daughter to bed at night and slept in her bed.

Sadly, Molly began to show the signs of illness in late July a few years later. We had taken her to the vet and had bloodwork done to see what the problem was, but it was already too late. After taking the kids to the annual jaunt to the county fair, we came home to find Bessie running around the house meowing loudly. Poor Molly had passed away while we were gone. The vet said she had Feline Leukemia and we couldn't have done anything for her.

About this time, my daughter was ready to move on in her life, and Bess, who had always favored me as her person, began to spend more and more time following me around and looking for love. She and I have a mutual understanding of one another, and anyone who knows me, knows my cat. She's me in feline form. Unpredictable, fierce, lovey, fun and distant all at the same time.

Bessie has outlived her sister, the family dog, numerous other kitty strays and is now tolerating the new dog, Piper, who is 3. She's even filled in when we didn't have a dog as the protector. One evening she heard noises when someone was trying to break into our shed and she raced from window to window growling, then clawed at my bed and repeated her window growling until I got up and saw the intruders leaving the yard. She has taken care of me when I was sick, is always ready for a cuddle or a nap, waits for me in the front window when I leave and jumps on the screen and meows when I'm outside and out of sight from her. Sometimes I wonder who is the mom and who is the cat!

Now the vet tells me that she has breast cancer and although we did our best to remove all of it, it's a very aggressive cancer for cats and that I should love her while I can.  I love my Bessie and I'm glad that whatever fates brought us together persisted in doing so. She's my little lion and my tiny tiger and I'll miss her more than can be imagined when she is gone.

The nice things people do

I had  a very nice evening yesterday. Someone thought long and hard and remembered something that I enjoy very much and then planned an evening centered around what *I* like. That was very nice of them and I thank them.

 

I'm so used to being the organizer, the one that makes the choices and keeps everything going, the mom, the wife, the secretary blah blah blah.... and I'm much more comfortable and used to  being on the giving end of things then the receiving.  But every now and then someone will say something nice, or compliment me on something I've done and I tend to simply brush it aside as if it doesn't really mean anything to me.  That is far from the truth. Forgive my silliness and inability to accept these things graciously.  I'm working on it! :)



I'm a very lucky gal to have so many supportive and loving people in my life. My husband, my children and my friends. I never quite understand why they are all there for *me*, but I need to stop once in a while and just absorb that they are and enjoy it. Whatever their reasons, I'm just so glad they are there.



So, a public thank you to everyone who has ever said a nice thing to me and then thought I didn't hear them or accept the compliment. And a public thank you to everyone who has done something wonderful for me (anything done for me is wonderful...how nice to be thought of!!). It means everything to me.

And now, for something completely different...

Fluffy Bunnies Steal Barbie's Sportscar.... film at 11:00