Remembering My Dad

Dad,

You were 47 years old when the nurse came out of delivery a little after 5:00 a.m. on March 8, 1956 and upon waking you she said, ‘Mr. Thomas you have a healthy 7lb 1oz baby girl born at 4:55, congratulations." I'm not sure what happened after that I can only imagine but at 47 years old you were considered a bit old at that time to be a father. People always thought you were my grandfather and as I got older I can remember how much it royally pissed me off. You used to laugh it off. It's as if you had two lives, one where you were the perennial bachelor in Parkville and everyone knew you would never marry. Until my mother came along that is...and then I did.

I can remember being very small with long blonde curly hair and blue eyes asking you if I could ride with you in the old truck to go ‘downtown' which meant the town of Parkville. I always felt so special when you said yes and we'd climb into the old 1930's Ford truck. The one with the squeaky doors, the cantankerous windows, the protesting clutch and the musty smell of dry rot as we bounced merrily from home to Parkville to visit Vawters drugstore where we'd get a cold soda at the big marble counter with the huge mirror behind it.
Later you'd teach me how to ride a bike, I remember the fear as I said, ‘Daddy promise you won't let go' when we took the training wheels off. We did that over and over again until I yelled, ‘Go ahead and let go now Daddy' and I was shaky but soon I was riding straight and strong. That was the beginning of a favorite pasttime of mine. Riding the backroads and sometimes letting go of the handle bars putting out my arms, closing my eyes and pretending I was flying. You'd of died on the spot had you known I did that. I loved it so much you found me sleep walking taking my bike out of the garage to go riding. Wow, what a scary thought for a parent!

I remember watching you go through your ritual of shaving every morning as I stood in the doorway of the bathroom running my mouth, which was alwayws running, and watcing you shave with your electric razor..It seemed to be something that was soothing to you as you closed your eyes and used your hands to guide the razor over all the spots that still had whiskers. You seemed transported to some other world. It was hypnotic to just watch you and eventually I did shut my mouth and just watch.

I'm sure mom got tired of hearing me ask, ‘Mom where's dad?' and since your business was at the house it wasn't an illogical question. You were always coming and going. So were lots of people. Our house was never quiet without someone dropping by. Maybe that's why to this day I do not like ‘drop ins' at my home. Then it was just a fact of life.

When I turned 16 you taught me to drive in the HS football field. Being too short to see over the steering wheel I can remember sitting on two telephone books to see over the dash. ‘Now when I say stop, I expect you to do it, ok? We'll start in circles until you get the feel of the car.' I was nervous as I started out driving and when you said, ‘Now stop!' I made the mistake of slamming on the brakes. Fortunately you only spilt your coffee and we weren't in your work car with all those little drawers of fittings in the back just ready to go flying out. Yea I had heard the stories of you teaching mom how to drive and I sure didn't want that to happen to me. You spilt your coffee on your pants and we called it a night. But eventually we moved to gravel roads and then to the highway. Then it didn't stop there you taught me how to look under the hood during car trouble and try to trouble shoot what might be wrong. I also had to learn to change a tire if needed. All of which did come in handy in the years to come. Then driving my car became a favorite pasttime replacing my bike. You gave me a gas card and I was set. Fortunately gas was cheap back then because I drove a lot....and many times during the cold, cold winters you'd come to the high school to rescue me when I couldn't get the car going on my own.

I was scared when I brought the boy I would later marry, home to meet you but you were gracious and welcoming. I thought you might run him off but you didn't. In fact he became one of the family right away and was there more than he was at his own home.

And when HS graduation finally came around and I walked into the gym you spotted me and told that boy, ‘Look at her, isn't she an aristocatic creature? The way she walks and talks, she's amazing.' I only learned of that comment later...I never knew you thought that about me.

And when it came time to marry that boy I walked up to you and took your arm, ready to walk down the aisle and you said, ‘My God honey you look so beautiful!' And I remember telling you, ‘Just shut up dad or I'll cry, which will make my eyelashes fall off.' You know I still feel guilty about that? But finally the song that was our cue came and you walked me down the aisle holdingmy hand tight. When we reached the altar and the preacher asked, ‘Who gives this woman your voice broke when you answered." Then you very reluctantly placed my hand in his.

Next came your grand kids. And oh the stories of what went on in the waiting room between relatives and friends for that first child of ours! We had it packed that night. I remember being afraid to tell you I was pregnant and as I sat there in fear you came over to hug me and congratulate me. It never got any easier to tell you with the next two either...and I have to smile at that. The greatest compliment you ever gave me was to tell me I was an excellent mother. Coming from you that was a Big Deal.

The years went by and when we made our move to leave Parkville and move 100 miles away you came to be there. There were tears in your eyes as you said, ‘This is your big move honey, the beginning of a new life.' I didn't want to leave but knew I had to.

The years went by and the kids grew up, but because you were already middle aged when I was born you grew old long before anyone else's parents my age did. You became sick and I moved down to live with you the summer of ‘95 while you were on Hospice. We had many soul searching conversations, you and I. But being the man who was alway wanting to ‘take care of me' you fought death. I remember telling you, ‘It's okay to leave dad. I'll be fine. You taught me well.' You looked at me and asked me, ‘Do you really think there is something after this life?' I told you I really did think that and you'd be so happy once you got there. One morning you said, ‘Will you come lay next to me?' I remember being so exhausted and only wanting to go to bed and sleep. I said,'Don't think there's not room enough my my body dad?' And as painful as it was for you to shift your position becasue of the cancer in your spine you made room. I crawled up beside you and as l lay down, you asked for my arm and I laid it over your chest and you wrapped your hands and arms around it and held on tight and stared at the wall. When I awoke later you were still holding on tightly and staring off into space. A day or so later you went into a coma. When the time came that you were in the throes of dying it was my wedding anniverary. That day I told my sister, ‘Oh God he's going to die on my anniversary.' That night when you took your last breath it was peaceful. You just took it and I knew it was your last as the breath left your body and your head rolled to the side. I automatically looked at the clock and it was 12:05 on Sept. 1st. I pointed to the clock and said, ‘Look, he's given me one last gift, he didn't die on my anniversary.'

You were given a firemans funeral with all the pomp and circumstance that goes with something like that. You were given quite a farwell.

But in the years that have gone by since I have come to realize that a lot of your philosophy you used to tell me (and I rolled my eyes at) is actually quite true. In fact, I'm sure you know that I have opened my mouth to speak and a Clydeism will come rolling out and I think, ‘Oh My God, did I just say that? Well damnit, it's true!' I still miss our conversations, even the ones where I was thinking, ‘Oh boy here we go again....' Sometimes I wonder, ‘What would dad think or do?' and all I have to do is ask myself, ‘Well Donna what would he say?' and it comes to me unbidden.

But the time you bought me a Word Processor and told me, ‘Write Donna you have talent. I love reading what you write.' I was mystified and thought, "yes but dad you are prejudiced just a wee bit'. After your death while cleaning your room there was a battered old notebook that had a note paperclipped to it with a fairly large clip so the note wouldn't be lost it said three words,'Give To Donna' and inside was all the famiy history you could remember over the years all stuffed into this book because you wanted me to ‘do something with it'. When I look at the book today I am saddened to see the ink is fading and one day I opened it and to my horror found the ink was fading from the papers too. I quickly copied everything on the Xerox machine. Now you are all gone, the sisters, mom and you along with many other relatives. In fact, we are now at the top as the oldest generation. I look at myself and think better get busy and make dad proud you're no spring chicken anymore. Even though you lived to be 86 years old I think you kept going because you needed to, to be there for those around you. I look in the mirror and think, ‘Tomorrow isn't promised to us' but it doesn't motivate me.' I imagine by now you know of all the times I just invited something to happen to me. Like the time I took my car out on a hilly road, blared the music and drove it doing over 90 mph. A road where so many people have lost there lives. But was there a car or truck or anything on the road that day? Nope not a one. I went over 30 miles to my destination and back again. I imagine you are usually watching during those low times when I actually do something stupid like that.

Yep I have a feeling I'm not getting out of this alive..after all you didn't. But you had done so many notable things in your life that you are remembered for. To many people you were many things but to me you were the first most important man in my life from that night the nurse announced my arrival and I miss you often. So this is a Happy Birthday wish to you dad. You were born on this day 102 years ago. As long as I'm able to remember it I always acknowledge it in some way.

Love and miss you dad, more than you know...

Clyde R. Thomas January 27, 1909-September 1, 1995 Born in Waldo, Ks. Died in Parkville, Mo at his home with his loving daughters by his side.

The Embarrassment of Not Being A Sports Fan!

I know, I know it's been a long time....suck it up. Here's something for ya:

Okay, gang listen up here is one of my blonde moments. It was early on in my life so the number would be down in the hundreds or so. But when I was newly married and around 19 years old I lived near  KCI Airport and worked at the Hilton Airport Plaza Inn as their phone operator. Now you might think 'no big deal to answer the telephone' but not so. There was a big electronic machine there, no wires, too new for that, just buttons to push. It had 36 lines into the hotel. And believe me the night Jerry Litton was killed I saw everyone of those little buttons light up. The board looked like a Christmas Tree. However being the first night working alone after training I failed to see the beauty in that. My thoughts were something like, "Oh Shit Fire and Holy Hell!' So you kind of get an idea about how harried an operator can get. You learn to answer talk fast and push a lot of buttons to connect people and keep going. You also deal with the customers within the hotel. The Good, The Bad & The Ugly.


Now you go in about 15 minutes before your shift starts and stay over about that long so you overlap with the previous or next operator so she can get you up to speed on what's going on, etc. Well as you can imagine your wall and board is covered in sticky notes of things to remember. There was a big carousel of little cards in alphabetical order of everyone who was staying at the hotel. Customers calling down ask all kinds of questions and you help them out as best you can etc. or put them in touch with the right people who can.


Me not being a sports person and never having been, I don't keep 'important' information in my head like names of football teams or baseball teams or which is which for that matter. One evening we had two teams as guests in our hotel. One a football team and one baseball. Now I don't remember exactly who they were, but I'm thinking they were the baseball team from St. Louis, Mo and the football team was from California. I'm sure I'm wrong but I'm going to use these two teams to tell the story.

It was a busy, oh so busy, night as you can imagine with these important people that were staying there. Not that I looked at it that way, it was just another night the hotel was full. Meaning my ass was going to be jumping all night long. After many long hours and dealing with people 'after hours' when the bars shut down, I'm beginning to become a little frazzled. One gentleman calls down and says, 'During the big game tomorrow can you tell me who is playing?' Simple question right? Wrong....I'm searching through notes on my board I see Oakland Raiders and St. Louis Cardinals. So I say, 'Yes sir the Oakland Raiders will be playing the St. Louis Cardinals but I don't have the game schedule.' There was a long silence and then amusement in his voice as he valiantly kept from laughing while he said, 'Well now that will be an interesting game!' And I, wanting to be as interesting and nice as possible, in a boring voice (because I could care less about sports) said, 'Oh why is that?' And he says, 'Because honey, one is football and one is baseball!' I was speechless as I stumbled around and finally started laughing and said, 'Is it obvious I'm not into sports?' I was just reading the notes on who the guests are tonight so I just assumed....' He was so amused he came down to the front desk and asked the desk clerk to please get me from the back he'd like to meet me. I think my face was ten different shades of red when I walked out to talk to him.


When I repeated the story to the family the next day they got the biggest laugh out of it and continued, to my chagrin, to tell it for years to come. So I guess it pays to know a little bit about everything, including sports. I know more than I did at 19 but honestly I could still make that mistake today. Only today I'd be saying, "Oh hell I have no idea.' The man was extremely nice, he was a rep for the makers of very expensive sunglasses and he asked for my address and said he wanted very much to send me a pair of some very nice sunglasses for a very special lady. And he made good on his promise too. One day in the mail I received a box with the sunglasses and a tag on them telling me they had ray ban in them, how much UV protection and a lot of other things, plus a very nice note telling me I made his day. By looking at them I could tell they were quite pricey. I wore them for years until they fell apart but they were always the reminder of the blunder I had made, but had turned out pretty good in the end. He ended up making me feel a lot better and I ended up meeting an interesting person.

I guess sometimes it pays to be sports challenged....

It's My Party & I'll Cry If I Want Too...

Actually it's my birthday so here's my story.  I finally got my new Samsung Omnia II today via FedEx. It was supposed to come Saturday and didn't so I was really bummed out about that. No scratch that, I was DEVASTATED. I kept calling my husband from work and asking, 'Did it come yet?' Fifteen minutes later...'Did it come yet?' and so on until I drove him nuts and he told me in no uncertain terms that it WAS NOT COMING TODAY! It must be a popular phone because they can't keep them in stock. See the coolest thing about this phone's touch screen is it doesn't have to feel heat. Hence, acrylic nails will work it! Cool huh??? Since I usually wear them, well this is a big PLUS! The little peck and hunt features on the older phones don't work for us oldies but goodies. The young kids might fly through them but we have to have short answers to texts because it might take us ten minutes to get out four words! Oh to be young again!  No wait...I'd have to think about that...

I had bought it on Thursday because I'd been saving to get a new phone and my contract was up. This time I decided, rather than get something cheaper (free) I'd spend money and get what the hell I wanted for a change. It's okay, call me selfish. (Hey, I'd been saving!) So I was elated and sick at the same time when I paid for it. But figured once I got my hot little hands on it I'd feel so much better. Not only is it all touch screen, etc. it has a bigger screen to see pictures and a camera that's nearly as good at the digital one I own, which also happens to be a Samsung I got for Christmas in 2007 and it's 7 pixels, the phone is 5. Plus, it's got the neat chip in it (extra $ of course) that you can download your pictures on your computer. The others on my Motorola Razor are just lost and when I figured I could never really use them I quit using the camera for the most part.

Okay, so some girls at work and I were going out Saturday to celebrate our birthdays which are all in March. But one fell down the stairs and cracked a rib. Okay, no dancing or partying for awhile. We'll wait. I woke up today to hear the FedEx guy here with my phone! Yeah! It was cool but never got beyond the welcome screen. Oh well, no problem. Later I'd run it into the Verizon office, have them take care of it. In the meantime my son and husband came home bearing wondering gifts. JEWELRY!  What more could I ask for?? (And yes guys, they sparkle!) The only thing left was to get that phone activated so I could play with it all evening since it's probably going to take  me a month to figure out how it all works. I was supposed to work today but my manager, another birthday girl, offered to work her shift and mine so I decided I'd take her up on it. More time to play with the phone, run my ailing computer into the shop etc. The computer didn't get to go but I did. Computer dude: Bizzzzzzyyyyy

I glided into Verizon with a cardboard box full of a phone and all the accessories saying, 'Help me!'  Only to find out that my phone is a dud. It doesn't work. Geez, for me, what are the odds? Extremely good! Murphy's law is practically my life. Sad but true. They're overnighting a phone to me, which means it will be here not over night, but on Wednesday. It was after 3:00 p.m. by the time I got in there.

Remember Tonto I, night owl, must sleep in morning.

If only it weren't so I'd probably have my phone tomorrow. Oh. My. God!  How friggin' disappointing. So the birthday wasn't a total washout I did get jewelry which always makes me happy. But no high tech wonder phone. Now, hopefully it will be here Wednesday in time for me to run it back in there in hopes they'll help me get it up and running at least. If not and it doesn't come till Thursday, it will be next week, I'm sure before I can get in there to get it activated. Oh you can do it yourself, but remember I am Murphy's Law in the flesh. Hence: Doing it myself will NOT work for me. Go ahead, bet on it, you'll win.

So that's about it. I've read all the books I can get my hands on about Vampires and whatnot (romance or otherwise) and I am out of all night reading material. You can only stay on Facebook (I'm addicted) so long before there's nothing else left to say. It's practically impossible for me to sleep at night, that's like daytime to me. Too bad I can't clean house then, that's when I'm most likely to feel like doing it. Don't think anybody would appreciate hearing the vacuumn running, etc. Maybe I'll treat myself to a candlelit bath, with oils, and some music until I'm a shriveled prune as I can't exactly make that last all night either. Well, I'm sure I'll think of something.

On a different note. This is the month Flashforward and V are coming back. I'm not a big fan of V but I watch it. Once you saw the original in the 80's the remake isn't really any different when you know what's going to happen. Now Flashforward, that gets your imagination going. I can't wait for Warehouse 13 and Fringe to come back too. Those shows at just too cool for words to describe.

Well I'm off, who knows when I'll be back. I waste so much time on Facebook I don't update this too often.

Everybody take care..

Donna Says:  "Remember some days life just bites you in the ass!"

The Good, The Bad & The Ugly

This was Halloween. We had to dress for work. It was fun, but not something I've done before so it was an experience. Then my cousin had a way too cool party. (I don't party) But I went and well let's just say somebody handed me a drink at the door, it was really good, and before I know it I was singing karaoke, something I would NEVER do. *Know I can't carry a tune in a bucket either*  However, I think I want a karaoke machine for Christmas. You know, just to sing when nobody's home. I think I could really torture my dogs and birds this way. There are pictures of me singing but boy, they are embarassing, sorta. Anyway, that's the catchup version of Halloween. You know what they say, the rest is history. Except I have this new nickname from my husband called Karaoke Queen and he doesn't mean it in a good Taylor Swift like way. UGH! What was I thinking??? Oh by the way, that's a dress from the Flapper days of the 20's. It was cute. Too bad it wasn't darling on me, but it worked. The purple wig was salon mandated as something to tie us all together.

Hell I couldn't think of anything to call this entry so I was thinking about three different things that happened today. And it went in exactly the same order. When I arrive at work there's ONE stylist looking like she's been stampeded by a herd and ready to drop. People are EVERYWHERE waiting. Of course, getting upset, they can't get in etc. My shift began at 3:00 but I was there a bit early, then I'm told one woman is waiting on me. She's specififed me? Plus she'd been waiting since 2:00 because my original schedule was 1:20 till 5:00 but since I'm a Night Owl I switched with someone who actually likes getting up during the earlier part of the day. Of course, no one told this poor woman this. But she waited and had come all the way from Carrollton. Anyway she wants.....

ME?

REALLY??

Okay my curiosity is peaked and I find her and she asks, 'Are you Donna?'   I'm gun-shy so I'm kinda like, 'yeeeaaaaahhhh' with a kind of trepidation on my face waiting for an onslaught of anger of something I did.  She starts gushing, 'My daughter was in here the other night and you cut her hair. I want you to cut it just like that. She loves it and so does everyone else. It's just so cute'...etc. and she kept going on.  I did remember her but when she left I thought she was just being nice about liking the cut. It's kind of my own spin on a haircut I'd seen in a book. It looks different on everyone. So to make a long story short, I cut her hair the same way (she was so much like her daughter) and she loved it too. Of course, it looked different than her daughters hair but then again, her hair was different.  I was shocked when she told me she was 80 though, because she didn't look over 65 or 70....tops.  She left a happy camper and so was I. There were others that passed through my chair but I don't have that sharp brain anymore that remembers faces and phone numbers and anything else like I had a photographic memory. Somewhere along the very long years this ability has decided to clearly fade.  And I miss it.

Well, hell.

So that brings us from the Good of the day to the Bad.  A woman comes in with a tiny child, maybe this baby is one or so and wants to know if I'll cut his hair.  Now let me back up and tell you how much kids just hate me. The other stylists can do fairly well with them. At least the kids aren't terrfied of them. Oh sure they'll cry and carry on but it's just not the same with me. I mean, do they look at me and see horns growing out my ears or fire shooting from my eyes?  I don't know how they see me. Maybe I don't want to?  I'm trying, oh and I'm trying sooooo hard to explain to this lady that her kid isn't gonna be happy with me.  "Oh he'll do fine, I just hold him on my lap when 'so and so' does him and he's fairly good." 

Uh.......can you say with me;  famous last words?  Louder.....FAMOUS LAST WORDS!

I persisted in my not-very-successful-way that it just would not happen that way.

Nope. Nada. No Way.

She wanted to try. Well he was all happy sitting in the cart so I suggested I just start trying to cut his hair there. I succeeded with one....just ONE cut along his hairline. THEN he realized I was touching him. And he just went ballistic. Now, these mom's don't seem to understand that these scisscors are like razor blade sharp and I have scars on my hands to prove it. I really, really, did try my best to discourage her by telling her he might get cut or and/or an eye poked out when he started to go all crazy and whatnot. She didn't seem to think he would. Then after the first cut when he SAW me...... That's when the unexplainable horror came over his little tiny cute face.  I sweetly asked mom, 'Should we stop here? And just leave it at that, no charge of course.'  OH. NO. "Let's go on, I'll sit and hold him.'  Oh did I mention she had a friend with her?  So okay, she sits in my chair and holds him face first against her. I start to comb quickly and cut. This kid turned into the Tazmanian Devil. She called her friend in for reinforcements. One held his legs, mom held his face into her chest and I tried to move quickly without cutting him OR me. At one point I didn't hear anything. He wasn't crying and I didn't hear him breathing. You know when a kid is so upset they can't get their breath? I said, 'Uh, he's so upset I don't think he's breathing!'  She blew in his face and said, 'He will, believe me, he's just really upset!'  Well that made two of us. No make that three. Mom was sweating like we were in a sauna. I wasn't exactly calm and serene. She had sweat pouring off her forehead, I think mine was running rivulets down my arm pits, chest and back. But the good news is my make up never got wet and faltered. 

Yea. I can still look good while it sounds like I am poking toothpicks under his nails.

So this poor kid is now giving me the evil eye each time he looks at me, through big elephant tears and screams that were making people at the Wal-Mart checkout stop and look. We got it accomplished, eventually, but he lost his socks in his squirming and I thought he was going to lose his pants while her friend tried to keep hold of him. Gosh where did his strength come from???  It looked pretty good, which is saying a lot because a lot of the time I mostly have to dance around them just grabbing chunks of hair and trying to cut so he actually had a decent cut. I sooo wanted to use clippers, ie., he wouldn't be cut but she thought it might scare him more?? I don't want to see him scared more. But we did have to use the tiny trimming clippers around his ears which sent him into another world.

In the middle of this a man had come in and sat waiting his turn and watched the whole thing. (I wondered if at any minute the man might bolt but he never did)  I tried to talk to the baby to tell him it was over and if looks could kill; well you wouldn't be reading this. This poor kid was terrified of me.  I got a towel and took it to mom and she commented, 'I need some water on it because he has stickiness all over his face (from the lollipop bribes we were giving him)." I told her, 'It's not for him, it's for you to wipe the sweat off your forehead. I don't think you realize how much you have there. I'll get a wet one for him."  She was pale when she left, her friend had his excess clothes he'd squirmed from and I think all of us felt totally depleted. In fact we all remarked about it and she said he'd sleep now for the rest of the night. I just wanted to crumple in a corner like the wicked witch who had a bucket of water thrown on her in The Wizard of Oz and just kind of cave in on myself. Dang I felt drained. If nothing else in his life traumatizes him, he'll have this haircut to refer to. I've just always had that effect on children, except my own, even two of my three grandkids swell up like roosters and start screaming when they see me.

Ah......I guess it's a Goddess given gift, huh? Boy am I proud of THAT one!!!

Okay and now we get to the Ugly. This is probably NOT something I should be talking about here but it's gone too far and now it involves my youngest son. Okay so he's 28 but still......he's my son!

First I have to say:  "I am NOT a Cougar. Nor do I want a BOY TOY.  Why is this so hard to get across to a certain person who is 23 years old and lives with a 44 year old woman? They are happy with their relationship, why drag me into it? But, no it happened.  All I wanted was a rootbeer one day, this has been several months ago. He's a nice kid but then he starts talking about this crap and I told him, 'Look, I'm happily married, I'm not into that, and besides, you have your OLDER woman. Enjoy her."  End of story.

NOT.

So recently, oh about two weeks ago, he sends a 'delicate' text to me.  Well it was appalling actually. Visually appalling to me as I began to picture this awful scene in my head. I sent one back with two words STOP IT! He apologized. Then I deleted all my incoming and outgoing texts. How embarrassing if that should be found, right?  He didn't so the same. A HUGE mistake on his part. But she found it and he apparently woke up to her beating on him wanting to know who I was. He tells her who I am and where I work and 'she's gonna have a talk with me'. She was a nice lady up until then. She looks kinda tough but I thought, well when she approaches me, we'll just talk, I'll explain her moron boyfriend to her.

On Halloween when I went to work she was at the door along with a greeter. She says, 'Are you Donna?' but the greeter was asking me questions about the costume I was wearing, etc. and I was late for work so I nodded my head at her and said, 'I've got to go for now.'  I didn't think anymore about it. By then they had seemed to work it out and were getting engaged. Good for them. However, after seeing me in my costume I think she got mad all over again. Hell I'm a good ten years older than she is. Plus, I'm not into Boy Toys or men who are 5 years younger than my youngest son. That's just, well...ewwwwwwwww.  In fact, I'm not into any men. I am MARRIED. Period. But now she's approached my son and asked, 'Is your mother Donna.' 

Now my son is mentally challenged, slightly. You'd probably never guess it by looking at him. I had heard that my son and this woman had shared breakfast on occasion and I told this young kid NOT to tell her about my son and involve him. But he must have opened his young, stupid mouth..  That's all she said to him. At least that's all my son is saying about it. But now I'm PISSED. You've brought my son into something I'm not even responsible for. The Mother Lioness is emerging.  Even though she will probably never be reading this, know this: I will NOT put up with your jealous crap. I don't want your youngster. Leave my son alone. Don't EVEN think about getting back at me through him. Come talk to me. This isn't high school. I'm not hiding or slinking around because some insane bitch is jealous. I do not want your boyfriend. Your baby boy friend at that. All I want is to be able to go over and buy a drink or a sandwich. I can't help it that he's a moron or thinks with a different part of his body rather than his brain. Come talk to me nicely. I will explain to you how youngsters make big mistakes and he's not thinking with his head. Then I'm going to ask her why she can't find a man her own age?????  Then if it goes further I will contact your employer. I am not playing games.

End of story.

Do Anything But We MUST FIX THE HAIR!

This is me trying to take a picture of myself so you can see my tremendously large awesome earrings. You know the ones I bought after testing because I have an addiction? Yes those. These are the biggest ones I have. No I take that back, I grabbed some others that were so cool, and looked like Indian dream catchers with lots of little beads.

OK. I digress.....

Those were TOO big. They were 6 inches long and at least 3 inches wide. They were so heavy they pulled the earlobe into a slit. Seriously these things were heavy. Not only that, I had to get a little sling thing going on to turn my head so they'd fall over my shoulder. You know, one of those where you kind of fling your head real quick and then the earring is hanging down your back instead of your front. Yes, I said 'down' your back! God, it was ridiculously funny. Much, much too big. But still cool, I just can't wear them. So they'll hang on my earring holder as a reminder at how stupid I can be sometimes. It's just that at the checkout the guy said, 'If you get another pair you can have them a half price!' So I just grabbed those because they had caught my attention. No thought given. None at all. Now these earrings I have on are manageable and lightweight. And not too bad, in my humble opinion.

Enough about earrings. Remember they're my drug so you'll probably be hearing more about them.

You people who can take pictures of yourselves with your digital cameras and make them look good....well you suck. This is one of....oh....I.....don't know....maybe a dozen; trying to get a decent shot so you could see the earrings and I don't really suck too bad at the way I look, so this one got the vote. Maybe I'll get the hang of it.

Today I decided, well yesterday, or maybe the day before, hell I can't remember, anyway I looked in the mirror and all of a sudden there it is staring back at you.....ROOTS!
"Oh shit, I need my hair done and I need it done NOW."

So that's what I did today, went and got the works done. So we had to FIX THE HAIR! AT ALL COSTS YOU MUST FIX THE HAIR! Jodie did a good job.

I actually feel as if I'm making progress here. Of course I haven't started working on cleaning the house the way it should be, at least not yet. I think my self imposed 'relax and de-stress' from school is probably officially over. I really don't have a good excuse to lay around and be useless, the worst is over. The written test will come up next week and I think it will be okay. As they say at school; If you can get through our daily tests: our 210 test, our 300 test, our 540 test and our 700 test and pass, well, you'll pass 110 questions on your theory for boards. Don't sweat it. So you know what, I'm really not. Now watch life throw a wrench in it and for some reason I miss too many because I had several brain farts all in a row. Enough Donna......deep.....deep breaths. The worst is over. CLEAN YOUR HOUSE!

After the hair thing today I stopped by the beauty supply store and bought nail polish and then stopped by the jeweler next door to ask about resizing my mom's rings. I think it will be a bit pricey because I want them to go over my thumb joints then fit fairly snug and since I'm older and those joints are bit larger than they used to be (age sucks) it's gonna cost more....maybe. The Jeweler said he'd have to see them and see what he could come up with. He's terrific and very good at what he does. And it shows by the way he's swamped all the time.

It was such a nice day even though there were blackclouds hanging overhead and up north which looked as if they could turn into tornadoes at any second. Sounds like an oxymoron doesn't it but it was kind of neat. I like storms as long as they don't damage property. So I figured a quick trip to Sonic for a root beer (another vice) and then on home. Most people would hurry home, me, I've got to have a rootbeer at all costs. Once on the highway I had lightening streak from the sky in a straight line and hit the ground right in front of my car just seconds before I drove where it struck. I've never seen anything like it. Straight down, BAM! I bet if the windows were down I could have smelled the ozone in the air. I wondered what would happen if I'd been just a second later and it hit the car or the windshield. Would it strike me dead? Would I be electrocuted? Then I decided with some relief that at least my corpse would have a nice hair do, provided it didn't go up in smoke of course! LOL Okay NOT funny, but hey, we have to laugh at life right? Otherwise I'd be ranting, raving and crying, like I've been doing nearly everyday for the last year after school. Did I mention that I'm thankful God made tranquilizers?

Yes I am.

But wasn't it Confucius that said: The journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step? I think it was something like that. Well, that's it for now. I was going to tell you all about my testing experience in more detail. It's actually sort of humorous now that I'm not doing it, but I don't think I'll dwell on it tonight.

"Nothings gonna stop us now"
Jefferson Starship

Donna, WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN????

Oh, I've been around. So much was going on and the last thing I wanted to do was blog about it. Seemed like I didn't have much time to waste sitting at the computer and typing! My personal journals even went down the toilet long about, oh, uhm...let's see about April of 2008. That's when I started Beauty School. That's a long story, let's suffice it to say, it's over and done with now and I'm out. Yeah me! On the journal side of things, my kids are probably secretly relieved, this way they won't have so many to deal with when I'm dead. I mean, who wants to read the rantings of a dead woman???

Before that my father in law was sick with cancer, which I've written about and during that time my mom became ill with lung cancer. She didn't last as long as Harold did. She died in November of 2007 and then Harold followed in February of 2008. From those times it was a blur of hard work; cleaning out their homes and disbursing of things or storing, whichever needed to be done. Then selling Harold's house. God, I hate real estate people! Then I went right into school. So I guess you could say we still have all that going through belongings to deal with. Something needs to be done, I can't hardly move through my house, nor my garage.

Two more grandchildren came onto the scene. They're getting bigger. But getting through school was the biggie. It's done, it's over and guess what? I DIDN'T KILL MYSELF! Okay, this is a BIG DEAL, seriously! So half the testing is done. I've only got the written to go. Had the big test Monday, the hands-on one, the one that makes people want to throw up or throw themselves off the top of a building, whichever opportunity presents itself first, or maybe both. I didn't do either one.

Miraculously.

I did drive myself a little bit more insane than I do on a regular basis. It's over. Hope I passed. I'd hate to have to take it again, although if I do, I know more of what to expect. Hopefully next time while demonstrating a haircut the clamp won't come loose, which holds my doll head, and send it rolling across the floor while I stand there stunned with scissors and comb in hand. Yes that DID HAPPEN!

What did I do you ask? I rolled my eyes and calmly retrieved my doll, like it happens all the time, re-clamped her and began cutting again. All I can say is thank God they make tranquilizers!

When it was all over I calmly walked out with my head held high, looking like I knew what I was doing, walked to my car, and called my instructor where I began to fall apart while I retold the entire story to her. Yes, it was the rantings of a mad woman. Of course, she's used to me.

THEN I went and bought earrings. Those always make me feel better. I guess it's turned into my own personal vice. Some people buy heroin, I buy earrings. Doesn't seem odd to me???

After I graduated on April 16th I read the entire Twilight series in about three days. Loved the books. Christine Feehan's novels are far more sexual but the Twilight series are for 12 and up, so no steamy sex, but good anyway.

Now we wait for test results and take another test.

An Impromptu Move

Well the father-in-law that fell down his steps and remained there for 27 hours until we found him back in January is finally moving here to our hometown to an assisted living facility. We will be picking him up from his current skilled nursing facility on Friday the 13th. Now, being the somewhat pessimistic person that I am, and having had other questionable experiences on Friday the 13th's I have to wonder what will happen to screw this whole thing up. Not to mention that everywhere I seem to look I keep seeing 666. What's up with that?

But we decided to make it a bit easier on him and go down today to bring back his furniture that he has decided he will want in his new assisted living apartment. Without him being along. Which isn't much because they are small. But enough that we need to break it up over a few days. Since it will just be my husband and I we need to make it as easy as possible on us and him. We rented a covered trailer this morning because it was pouring down rain and by early afternoon we had it hooked to our Dodge Ram and towing it to Liberty. We were reminded fairly quickly why we don't tow large trailers anymore. It was causing the transmission to overheat so frequent stops to cool it off became necessary. And now that it's over we think the transmission has been compromised.

We loaded his bed, his chest of drawers, a night stand, a love seat, his favorite recliner and last but definitely the worst, his giant, big screened TV. Which I helped get the majority of this out the door and into the trailer. And I'm an old woman with a bad back. However my husband knows ways to help make it a bit easier but when it was all said and done and we were headed back home I still felt like I had died, or wished I had died. Oye! The agony...

When we pick him up on Friday we'll go back to the house and spend the night. Since it may be the last time he'll ever be in that house I'll have to use the opportunity to question him about different items in the house and query on their worth or lack thereof. That should take all evening since he can barely get up the stairs with a walker. I think we'll start on ground level, set him down and begin the story. When that level is done, we'll move on up. I'm expecting him to be sentimental and weepy because that's the way he's been since he fell. Hell I really don't know what to expect anymore. The man has totally proven me wrong on everything I said about him.

When he was half dead the day we found him, at the ER when they said most of his organs had shut down I said, "Hell he won't make it through the night." He did and I said, 'Hell he'll never leave the hospital." He did and went to a nursing home. He wasn't able to walk or get out of bed so I figured he'd be wheel chair bound. No again. He's up walking with a walker. Sometimes I think the fire that fuels him is his fear of what we might be doing to his house or his cars. It's that control factor. I'd be hard pressed to give it up myself. I guess I'll quit trying to predict what will happen to him. He's one tough ole bird. Although he has announced he wants to renew his drivers license so he can get out and drive. Now THAT must be stopped at all costs. He'll kill somebody else if he takes two tons of moving metal out and drives it. I'll have to figure out a way to sabotage that.

Rest In Peace Sweet Em One Year and Counting...

Today was the first year anniversary of Emily's death. In a way it seems like she's been gone forever and yet in another it doesn't seem as if a year has passed. And God we both miss her so damn much. She was one of those very special pets that you get in your life that are more human and perfect than maybe other pets you've had. She was that special dog. She came to us during the year of The Great Flood and when I got into trying my hand at webdesign, before I actually took classes on it, she was my first subject to write about. The Divine Miss Em.

Over the years she became my husbands traveling buddy and they became really close. The night she died he had left to take our son home. She came back to where I was sitting at the computer and sat very quietly and looked at me. She put her paw up on my leg and looked longingly into my eyes. I asked her if she needed to go outside. I remember the night was warm and breezy. She went out the door and off the deck, then turned around and stared at me, then slowly lay down. I knew what was wrong, she needed to die but she didn't want to go without Dwight being there.

Two weeks before she had been diagnosed with Congestive Heart Failure. I went out and tried to coax her back up on the deck but she didn't have the steam to do it. I cursed my bad back because I couldn't pick her up myself and bring her in, she only weighed 33 pounds! I sat down beside her, she tried to crawl under the deck to die but I wouldn't let her go. I told her to just hang on I'd go get the phone to call Dwight. I ran inside and brought the phone back out and called him. 'You've got to get home NOW, Emily is dying and I think she's waiting on you."

I kept stroking her fur and telling her to hold on that her dad was coming home, just a few more minutes. I told her how much I loved her and I knew she couldn't stay any longer. In dog years she was over 90. Soon we heard the loud pipes of his truck and she looked up at me and I swear she had a look of relief in her eyes. In seconds he was at the back door, "Hey beautiful, you can't lay out here in the dirt, let's take you inside." He picked her up and brought her inside and put her down on the fireplace hearth where she liked to lay. As soon as he laid her down he heard something in her stomach that sounded like it popped, which is what makes us think she had an obstructed bowel or something similar. She took a deep breath and that was the end. As the air left her lungs, the light left her eyes. By now we're both on our stomachs with our faces in her fur crying. He asked, 'Is she gone?' I just nodded my head, "She's gone George, she's gone," in between sobs.

We laid there with our faces in her fur and cried for a solid hour and talked to her about her life and how much she had meant to us. I fell apart over my Afghan Hound when I lost him but I have never seen Dwight come so unglued over a particular dog. But they were tight, those two. Our Shih-Tzu's were there with us but it's funny how other animals will handle a death in the house. They become very quiet and respectful. The birds become still and the Foo's after coming over to Em and sniffing her and then us to let us know they were there, went right over and laid quietly off to the side but still available should we need them for support. Usually my Tzu's will be all over me when I'm crying, licking my tears, giving me kisses and doing this little ritual where they rub there bodies against mine and wiggle all over. Like they're trying to rub happiness back into my pores or absorb the unhappiness into theirs. Not this time. They hung back and mourned themselves. They simply adored The Divine Miss Em following her around and trying to emulate her. Sometimes much to her dismay.

We had to make the difficult decision to have her cremated rather than burying her. For two reasons; the first and foremost was we didn't want her rotting in the ground, the second was it's more difficult as we are older to dig those deep graves for our pets. I hate the thought of cremation but that's what we did. She remained on the hearth all night and the next day he put carpet in the bed of the truck, placed her on the tailgate and combed and preened her hair until she was perfect. It was as much for him as it was for her. I was gone, I didn't want to see her leave home for the last time. He then clipped the lavender bows from her hair to add to the hair we had clipped from her the night before to save. He covered her with a special cloth and took her to her vet who is also our friend. Dwight told Dan he didn't want anyone else but him to touch her or initiate the process or scoop out her ashes.

Two weeks before her death all the dogs had been to the groomers and dolled up for Easter and spring. Emily was done in lavender with bows and a bandanna. I took pictures of her but didn't get them developed until after she had died. The second picture I posted here brought a smile to my face and I had to chuckle at her. It looks as if she's grinning and at the same time the picture has an ethereal quality to it. It was like she was saying, 'It's okay mom, I'm having a blast now. See you soon."

And I can't wait to see her again too. I take comfort in the fact that much of my family is over in Spirit World and taking care of her until we get there. She loved to ride and she has my car windows all smeared with doggie nose prints that I can't bear to clean off. Forget that during the night when lights hit them I can barely see out the window. I thought that when a year had passed I'd be able to clean them, but I can't face that task yet. And the fireplace heart still has her tracks from dirty little feet on the tiles after a spring rain. We've been careful when washing carpets or cleaning for the holidays not to clean the hearth. Again I thought at the one year mark, but it's still not enough. And I still can't bear to go to the park, her favorite place, even to take the Foo-Foo's after all this time. I guess someday it will all be okay and not as painful. Or maybe I'll sell the car and the house without ever cleaning away those memories.

One Down....5 More To Go!

Yesterday this semester ended and I actually made it! I had my doubts about getting the last of the assignments in, but I persevered and sure enough..they got in. So it's one semester down and 5 more to go to a Bachelor's Degree. And..maybe not even 5, maybe only four, it depends on rescuing 3 lousy little credits from another school. But I'll do it, even if they are holding them hostage for $50. Which I might add is a rip-off from them, but that's another story I'm not getting into here. At least, not right now. I don't want to spoil my mood, which is good. And, trust me, we want to keep those good moods going in me.

Maybe I'll just update from other posts here since I'm not feeling anything witty or biting to write about. The nursing home saga I started here at the beginning of March is coming to a close, well at least the first chapter of it. Harold's been in a skilled facility having physical therapy every day to help him learn to walk with a walker. And he's a tough old bird. He continually proves me wrong. When he ended up in ER after falling down steps and lying there for 27 hours I thought he'd die in the hospital. He was the closest thing to death imaginable. Everything was giving out and he had that bone cancer to boot. So a couple of doses of chemo and dear old Humana made him leave the hospital because he was 'improving'. Off he went to the only nursing home they'd pay for, which was a hole and within three days they managed to tear down two weeks worth of fixing. Back to the hospital. Then to a skilled nursing facility which is where he's been for awhile now. I never thought he'd ever walk again.

I'll be damned! Then one day he was up walking with the assistance of a walker. Weeks worth of physical therapy actually paid off. The verdict came down: he's getting better so let's kick him out. So, now the assisted living facility. That would be up here where we live. Which is good, not so much city running. But, that means moving some of his home furniture to a small apartment here in a nursing home. April 13th has been deemed the day he must leave. Hmm....Jeez what a day to be doing something like that!

Last week the doctors discovered my mom has lung cancer. That was a diagnosis out of nowhere I didn't think would happen. Sort of like getting slapped with a giant invisible hand across the face when you least expected it. I have no idea where that will go, but I had two sisters die from lung cancer. It was awful to watch. I'm not looking forward to that again. But....that was 14 years ago I think they've improved treatments. And since I always see the glass half empty I'm expecting the worst.

Uhmm....Oh! I am so vindicated on this mouse saga! Again we smelled rotting little bodies only this time they were in the basement. Dear hubby goes down to search for them, only to find a nest of mom and her babies all curled up dead. In a way it was kind of sad, in another I'm friggin' happy about it because of all their mess they left behind. Little shits! So guess what he found in the nest with them? The DCon sacks! Remember I told you he laughed at me when I thought they took the bag too? Uhuh....well....they DID take the bags!! Two of them to be exact, right there in mom's little mouse home. I wanted to be all smug. I wanted to strut around the house with my chest puffed out. Men...they think they know EVERYTHING! But did I point that out to him?? No I kept my mouth shut and was all smug inside my brain. Damnit!

Maggie has been sick lately. I was relieved when the announcement of the tainted pet foods didn't include hers. Then they came out with the brand I was feeding her, Alpo. But..it was the food in gravy, which isn't what they get fed. That's when the puking started. I immediately threw it all away. Why take chances? Hell, that could be tainted too they just don't know it yet. I started cooking for them instead. She was still a little Puke Monster for a week. Finally I went to our vet and was telling him about it. He asked, "Well did you change foods?"

"Well yes, I started cooking for her but she's still sick."

He looks thoughtful, "What are you cooking for her?"

"Well, ground beef, peas, diced potatoes in mushroom sauce."

He's nodding his head and says, "How much did you make?"

"Oh I made a whole pot full to last, why?"

"Sounds delicious, do you have any left?"

I laughed at him. I told him I did but yesterday they got some of the Easter dinner.

He perks up, 'What was that?"

"Spiral cut ham with honey spiced glaze, mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, rolls, sweet potatoes, why?"

Shakes his head practically in tears...."Damn, I wish I ate that good!"

What a funny man. I did ask him what dog food I would be safe giving and he told me he wouldn't use any of them right now. The lists change so fast he can't even keep up with them. "Keep cooking for them, it's safer." Isn't that a helluva note? You can't trust anybody anymore. Today it's dogs and cats with tainted food. How long before it's our food? What is the PROBLEM people??? At this rate my dogs will NEVER go back to dog food even if it's good in the future. Why should they? I'm cooking them homemade meals!

April Fools Day

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For other uses, see April Fool's Day (disambiguation).
April Fools' Day or All Fools' Day, though not a holiday in its own right, is a notable day celebrated in many countries on April 1. The day is marked by the commission of hoaxes and other practical jokes of varying sophistication on friends, enemies and neighbours, or sending them on fools' errands, the aim of which is to embarrass the gullible. In some countries, April Fools' jokes (also called "April Fools") are only made before noon on 1 April.[1] It is also widely celebrated on the Internet.

Contents [hide]
1 Origin
2 Hoaxes
2.1 Lirpa Loof
3 Well-known hoaxes
3.1 By radio stations
3.2 By television stations
3.3 By magazines and newspapers
3.4 By game shows
3.5 By websites
4 Lists of April Fool hoaxes
5 Side-effects of April Fools' Day
6 Other prank days in the world
7 Quotes about April Fools' Day
8 Trivia
9 See also
10 References
11 Notes
12 External links



[edit] Origin
The origin of this custom has been very much disputed. Many theories have been suggested. What seems certain is that it is in some way or other a relic of those once universal festivities held at the vernal equinox, which, beginning on old New Year's Day, the 25th of March, ended on the 2nd of April.

Chaucer's story, the Nun's Priest's Tale, written c.1400, takes place "thritty dayes and two" from the beginning of March, that is, 1 April; it is Chanticleer and the Fox, a story of two fools. Though the 1st of April appears to have been observed in Great Britain in antiquity as a general festival, it was apparently not until the beginning of the 18th century that the making of April-fools was a common custom. In Scotland the custom was known as "hunting the gowk," i.e. the cuckoo, and April-fools were "April-gowks," the cuckoo being there, as it is in many countries, a term of contempt.

It has been suggested that Europe derived its April-fooling from the French.[2] French and Dutch references from 1508 and 1539 respectively describe April Fools' Day jokes and the custom of making them on the first of April. France was one of the first nations to make January 1 officially New Year's Day (which was already celebrated by many), by decree of Charles IX. This was in 1564, even before the 1582 adoption of the Gregorian calendar (See Julian start of the year). Thus the New Year's gifts and visits of felicitation which had been the feature of the 1st of April became associated with the first day of January, and those who disliked or did not hear about the change were fair game for those wits who amused themselves by sending mock presents and paying calls of pretended ceremony on the 1st of April. In France the person fooled is known as poisson d'avril. This has been explained as arising from the fact that in April the sun quits the zodiacal sign of the fish. The French traditionally celebrated this holiday by placing dead fish on the backs of friends. Today the fish has been replaced with paper cut-out.

The Dutch celebrate the 1st of April for other reasons. In 1572, the Netherlands were ruled by Spain's King Philip II. Roaming the region were Dutch rebels who called themselves Geuzen, after the French "gueux", meaning beggars. On 1 April 1572, the Geuzen seized the small coastal town of Den Briel. This event was also the start of the general civil rising against the Spanish in other cities in the Netherlands. The Duke of Alba, commander of the Spanish army could not prevent the uprising. Bril is the Dutch word for glasses, so on 1 April, 1572, "Alba lost his glasses". Dutch people find this joke so hilarious they still commemorate the first of April.
[edit]

And if you want to know tons more info on April Fools Day here's the link: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/April_Fool's_Day

Levon

Levon Elton Fitzgerald

Our beloved Afghan Hound

December 2, 1974- December 28, 1987

Pity Party....Table of One...

Wednesday was not a good day. Not good at all. For some reason I was off on a tangent regarding my life in general. I was off kilter or something. Everything that's gone wrong lately or even from 25 years ago came spilling back into my head and holding it hostage. I was thinking about how I'd waited until the kids had grown and moved on for my life to begin. Or what I thought was a beginning when all along it already had. But I have felt like I wasn't carrying my load or working to my full potential. I was a stay at home mom with no skills. Only mothering skills and I worried constantly that I didn't have those. But I see now that I really did all along. People in the family would say, 'Donna, have you found a job yet?' And look at me with the "Church Lady expression "Could it be....SATAN?"

Well raising kids is a job that keeps me busy", I'd stammer out. "I keep pretty busy indeed."

"Yes but a job out side of the home." Apparently in their eyes other women were working AND raising children. Why was I such a deadbeat? Well three children under the age of 5 1/2 aren't raised by a deadbeat mom. But I sure felt like a failure.

But now there are parents to take care of and that's a handful. My hubby's dad who's in the nursing home and my mom who's become frail and sickly and needs to be driven to the city frequently to the better hospitals down there. And I also have a college paper due in a week and I feel blocked and fear I'll never get it written. Seems like since I turned 50 last year, a whole year ago, my body is breaking down and falling apart. My teeth are falling out, my eyes are going bad. And now we're looking at major changes, possibly.

So yes...I was a little distraught. Bitching to the heavens that I am not receiving any help from upstairs and did they abandon me in my time of need or what? Oh yes, that's right, I forgot that when I actually pray my prayers aren't answered. I was weepy and emotional and feeling extremely sorry for myself.

I'm just a sorry ass.

I always feel as if I haven't done enough, I'm not somebody and I need to be. I've gone down several paths that seem to drop off into a dead end. I was staring at my macaw, Rocky and thinking, 'He doesn't mind his life. He is happy with what he is. He spends his day playing with Rosie and with toys and doesn't long to be something different. He doesn't yearn to be outside where it's actually natural for him to be. He's comfortable in his own skin. So why can't I learn a lesson from him?

I went to lay down, usually that will take the dark mood away. But I laid there staring at the ceiling feeling mad and let down. Then I had a vision of being in a big restaurant waiting to be seated. I hear over the intercom, 'Pity Party of One...your table is ready." I had to laugh. At least somebody upstairs has a sense of humor.

Oh My...There's a Dog Under There!

The Foo-Foo Mutts, our Shih-Tzu's as Dwight calls them, went to see the groomer today and as I expected when they came back they were half again the size they were when they left. By the time she finished peeling the hair from their bods they have skinny little butts and stick legs. And for once you could tell they were actually dogs and not dust mops. But she dresses them up pretty cute to make up for their nakedness. Both have colorful spring bandannas and Maggie has matching bows for her ears, which Sandy hot glues to some of their hair and it works pretty good for several weeks. Their faces have a Schnauzer cut with the short ears and bushy beard around the mouth and nose. But that's the only place they have hair left. They were so bad, as I said before, but it's been too cold to have it done before now. And truth be told, it probably wasn't a good idea to do it this soon but I figured it was much better than in January when they first really, really, needed it during the sub zero temps we were having. Now they just curl up in tiny balls and lay as close to one of us for body heat to keep them warm.

Dwight picked them up and was telling me later they got into the passenger side and curled up around each other until they looked like one big blob of dog. Their brown eyes were big as prize shooting marbles and proceeded to just stare at him all the way home. I'm sure he snickered and pointed at them for awhile. They must have felt humiliated, sort of like when you dream you go to school without your clothes.

It must be quite an ordeal to become beautified at the doggie parlor because once home, after a bathroom break, cool drink of water and something to eat they crash somewhere and saw logs. They snore too.

Dwight says we all snore.

In stereo.

But I've got news for him...he snores pretty darn loud himself!

And I need to wrap this entry up because two naked dogs are begging and pleading for me to take them to bed so they can crawl under covers to get warm. Man what wussies!

Toby...Bearer of Gifts

I came in the door two days ago and there sat Toby in a perfect sitting position. I looked his way and said, "Hi Tobe, what's up?" Then I did a double take.

Both he and Maggie are set to go to the groomers a little later on today. Both are so hairy they look like the proverbial dust mop without the handle. So it was a bit hard to see what was hanging out of his mouth but I was pretty sure it was a tail of a......

Oh.

My.

God!

What have you got? He came over to me wagging his whole body, he was so proud of what he had found. A treasure especially for me. Or maybe he figured he slayed a dragon he certainly acted proud enough. He proceeded to drop his plunder at my feet. There lying lifeless on the floor was a limp, slightly soggy, black mouse. "EWWWW! Gross!" I started doing the 'ooh it's a mouse' dance across my kitchen floor yelling for Dwight to come see what Toby found!

Well of course he came rushing in; I mean who wouldn't at the sound of my shrieking. He looks calmly at the mouse says, "Oh good boy Toby, look what you found", as he's reaching down to pet him and actually put the poor animal at ease because with my shrieking and hopping around like a maniacal escapee from the mental ward the poor dog thought he'd done something wrong. He calmly picked it up and went to send him on the proverbial water slide to his burial in the city sewer.

He loves to show me up like that. But don't think I didn't note he used needle nose pliers and plucked him up by the tail.

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Last night as I walked into my kitchen the wall of decomp hit my nostrils right about the area between the kitchen and dining room. Seriously, it was like an invisible wall. Now all day long I had been in and out of the kitchen and I'm sure the dead mouse had been bloating all that time. But it seems to reach a critical moment before the stink seems to begin to waft off of their decaying little bodies. And where was his chosen final resting place? Underneath our refrigerator of course. When Dwight came home he had to move the heavy appliance out once again (and it hasn't even been a week since the last time) and pick up his bloated, black little carcass and give him a burial in the sewer. What the mice find fascinating about the area under the fridge as a good place to die is beyond me. Unless it's warm from the fan blowing. And each time the fan came on it blew more of that fascinating odor known on CSI as decomp out into the air. At least he wasn't lying in 'dead guy juice' or in this case 'dead mouse juice.'

The DCon, I reported recently, that we laid all around the house is disappearing at an alarming rate. In each specially chosen area where the pets can't get it we have opened pouches and poured a little out. The mice have gone after it like it was a feast and even going into the bags to fetch more. But we've had to put more out and it keeps disappearing. So, where are the dead mice going to die? We know of the fridge, obviously. But they all aren't going there to die. You know what's going to happen don't you? I'm going to start smelling rotting, decaying corpses that I can't find to dispose of and we'll have to try to cover up the odor until the bodies dry up.
One night as I went in the laundry room to check on the rate of decline of those little green morsels our mice find yummy I discovered nary a pellet, crum or SACK! Perplexed I envisioned a giant rat, not mouse, running off with the nifty packet to show his family back at the proverbial nest. "Look honey at what I found!” This was rather disconcerting. Cautiously I called my hubby who was out of town. "Um, dear, the mice are eating the pellets like it's the best food in the house."

"Good, glad to hear it. It means the little bastards will begin dying!" he says with a deep throaty, muhaha ha ha kind of laugh.

"Yes", I said timidly, "but have you ever heard of them eating the packet too?"

Again more laughter only this was more of a delighted kind of glee reserved especially for me when he knows he has the perfect opening for me to look stupid. In between tears of hilarity he manages to get out, "no, I took the packet nitwit!"

I was glad he wasn't here to see me breathe a huge sigh of relief, which I did: away from the mouth piece. I was also glad he wasn't physically here or I might have killed him. Then CNN would be reporting from my location as police and news helicopters flew overhead trying to talk the crazy woman out peacefully. My friends would be gathered at the local cafe talking about how the furry little mice finally pushed me over the edge but my poor husband was at the wrong place at the wrong time. Pity the poor SOB.

One thing's for sure...I'm not coming out peacefully. I may have to blow my house up just to get rid of those goddamn mice!

Make God Laugh....Tell Him Your Plans...

This picture was taken almost 18 years ago when we made a move to our location now. And it was one of the happiest days of my life. It was on November 4, 1989 and fortunately for us the weather cooperated. This is our whole family posing by the real estate sign that said sold. We were first time homeowners and extremely excited about it too. I have this photo framed at my desk as a reminder of happier times in my life. I was sailing on cloud nine that day, sore from moving, by high none the less.

It was a major move for us. In fact it was life altering for everyone in the family. It meant leaving our hometown and all our family, including our friends, great neighbors, great doctors who were family friends and a good job. To taking a plunge from the big city to a small town and a new business and try to make it work. It meant uprooting our three kids from 7-11 years old from their schools, grandparents and cousins. It was a pretty emotional time but one I was really looking forward to. For me it was a much needed adventure in my life. And even though through the years we talked many times of selling everything and going back home we never did, we stuck it out and sometimes not for the better. Maybe we should have thrown the towel in years ago. And somewhere along the way Kansas City stopped being home and Chillicothe took its place. I'm not sure when that happened. Along the way most of the extended family members died and our hometown of Parkville changed dramatically. Even after the kids grew up and moved away we still talked about moving back but this time it was a lot less serious. Usually it was a passing comment during frustrated moments. Nothing really serious. But life has a way of pulling the rug out from under your best laid plans. Sometimes I think God just likes to fuck with me for a good laugh. I must be one of his preferred individuals for entertainment purposes. He and I are really going to have to sit down and have a nice long discussion when I go back home. What's that saying, 'If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans'? Yep, that's the one.

We told him our plans, more than once I might add and he laughed so hard he created great thunderstorms in our life.

Dwight's mom died back in 2005 after being in a nursing home with Alzheimer's for four years. His dad is 86 years old and over the years since her death he's been on a steady decline. Each time we'd see him he'd make it a point to tell us he had been to the doctor and he was healthy and there wasn't a thing wrong with him. He look like he'd died, kept losing weight and couldn't walk very well but his mind was still pretty good. "I'm the picture of health!" he'd remind us. I kept thinking, "Jeez what doctor believes that?" In retrospect we see that he was afraid, if we knew, we'd stick him in a nursing home. And the irony of the situation is that now he really is in one. If we'd of known exactly how bad he was, steps might have been taken to get him help to stay in his own home longer. But that's not going to happen.

Back in late January he fell down the steps at his home and laid there for more than a day before we found him. I wrote about it in depth here as my very first post call Nursing Home Blues. So the saga of the nursing home still goes on. My husband and I usually take turns going down to the city to see him. The last time was Dwight's turn. And when he came home after two days he had made some major decisions. Some of those life changing decisions like we had made in 1989. I didn't even see this one coming and I'm usually the one that smells them coming or at least I get an inkling. Nope. Nothing. Nada. Zilch. I was blindsided.

We had talked on several occasions about what to do with Harold's home in Liberty but it was just between us as husband and wife. A few weeks after he'd gone into the hospital the neighbors would come over wanting to know if we would be selling the house That was when Harold was so bad we didn't think he'd make it out of the hospital alive. But he's been progressing each day and getting stronger. Not strong enough he will ever be able to live in that house again, but he is progressing just the same. Still we've discussed what to do with his house. Dwight came home and I was a bit surprised at what he had pretty much decided would need to be done while he was there alone surveying the situation. In other words he spent time wondering and then spent time in each room and area of the house. Determining what needs to go and what needs to stay and the minor repairs to be able to bring market value to that house.

The original plan was he would go back and work in the city. He'd been thinking of getting out of his line of work to some extent and possibly going back to his original job as they told him they would be having some openings when cooling season picked up along about May. His plan was to live in his dad's house through the week and I'd stay here, this way we'd keep both homes. At least as long as Harold was still alive.

Apparently after his last trip and talking with his dad he has suggested that the house may have to be sold. The POTENTIAL plan is to liquidate both homes. Ours and his dad's. Plus consolidating the two houses contents as much as possible. This means deciding what to keep from both homes and possibly buying another one. If he can get work at his old job his plan is to move as close to KC as possible. You cannot begin to fathom what a HUGE job this will be. And nothing in our life ever runs smoothly. It usually just crawls along until a change comes and then it picks up speed like a locomotion. That's what happened in 1989. All of a sudden it was a done deal and time to move.

I tried to prepare but I still wasn't ready for us to begin moving when the day came to move things. As I was in the basement preparing my birds to be moved my entire living room and dining room furniture disappeared. I walked upstairs to my bedroom and the only thing left was a chest and it left as I was standing there. For some reason this unnerved me. I felt as if I had lost all control. What control I felt I needed over that situation I don't know. I called my sister crying saying, "It's all flying out of the house! If you want to see us before we leave you better hurry down!" I felt like I'd never see all of my things again that somehow it would get lost between there and here. No matter how much you prepare and how organized you try to be you still have no clue where your crap is for months.

So the possibility is very real that all of a sudden I'll be leaving Chillicothe. Maybe not for many months but no matter when it happens, or if it happens, I won't be prepared. And I'll need to figure out what must go and how to get rid of it. I know I'm too old for a move that takes one or two days. AND I'm too unorganized. Not only do I need to decide what in my house needs to go I have to decide what must go in the other house. Then how to get rid of stuff, give away, garage sale or auction? That means repairs on the homes and then real estate agents. I hate listing my house with a realtor. Of course people come in to look and since I'm a really private person I always feel violated after they're gone. We've even talked about auctioning it off and being done with it just to avoid involving a realtor.

Actually I never expected to go back to the city. And maybe it won't work out that we do, but it is certainly looking like it right now. And it won't be quick, it will be a long drawn out affair. There is one thing about moving, it forces you to get rid of some of your crap. And we're pack rats. Plus his parents were also pack rats AND collectors. They collected things they erroneously thought would be worth money in the future. Not true. Plus they inherited another couples home and contents nearly 20 years ago which they integrated a lot of the contents of that house into their own. You can really have too much stuff. Then it becomes shit. Makes me think of George Carlin's act about your stuff and other peoples shit.

I'm probably making a mistake writing about this stuff too soon. But it's so overwhelming that writing about it is kind of like purging a bit. This way I have more mental room to ponder about it.

The News Is In: It's a GIRL!

Well Sharla, our oldest daughter who is just about 6 months pregnant has been waiting to find out the sex of her baby. And on Thursday the 22nd she finally found out. It is a girl! Exactly what she was hoping for as her first child and it has all its body parts. She decided to tell everyone in the family with a mass text message so no one could complain they weren't the first to know. Hmm....technology! The message went like this:

It's a girl. Has all it's parts. And is hairy just like Kevin. No, just kidding!

So now Dwight is telling everyone that she's having a hairy girl. I felt justified because I had made the daring prediction with my trusty pendulum that it was a girl about two months ago. I guess I had a 50% chance of being right huh? Or wrong.

She had said that when she found out for sure she was going to compile a list of names and then decide. But when I asked her this evening if she had decided she said she would wait until the baby was born and she actually saw her. Which is a good idea. We had planned on naming our second daughter Angela. When she was born and I saw her I knew immediately her name should be Katie. I shocked my husband when I said as they were rolling me out of delivery, 'We need to name her Katie. She just looks like one!' I think he thought I was drugged and delirious.

Well, whatever a 'Katie' looks like....??? Still I think it's a good idea. I've heard it said that the soul of a newborn whispers their name to you. I would never have believed that but something changed my mind the day that kid was born.

Now Sharla can go out and buy things specifically for a girl. In my day clothes were just kind of asexual because no one knew until birth what they were getting. Wow how times have changed. In a way not knowing gave you something to look forward to and it also gave you a chance to work through your feelings for each sex. I'm happy though, as I too was hoping for a girl. Katie has a little boy so Sharla's girl will balance it out. Her baby is due on Independence Day. A little fire cracker waiting to explode.

I Owe My Mother...

(This came across my email a few months ago. Whoever wrote it MUST have known my mother! So I immediately forwarded it to my sister who immediately wrote back with, 'Did you write this?' "Oh hell no! I'm not that creative but it DOES sound like MOM doesn't it?")

1. My mother taught me TO APPRECIATE A JOB WELL DONE. "If you're going to kill each other, do it outside. I just finished cleaning."

2. My mother taught me RELIGION."You better pray that will come out of the carpet."

3. My mother taught me about TIME TRAVEL."If you don't straighten up, I'm going to knock you into the middle of next week!"

4. My mother taught me LOGIC."Because I said so, that's why!"

5. My mother taught me MORE LOGIC."If you fall out of that swing and break your neck, you're not going to the store with me."

6. My mother taught me FORESIGHT."Make sure you wear clean underwear, in case you're in an accident."

7. My mother taught me IRONY"Keep crying, and I'll give you something to cry about."

8. My mother taught me about the science of OSMOSIS."Shut your mouth and eat your supper."

9. My mother taught me about CONTORTIONISM"Will you look at that dirt on the back of your neck!"

10. My mother taught me about STAMINA."You'll sit there until all that spinach is gone."

11. My mother taught me about WEATHER."This room of yours looks as if a tornado went through it."

12. My mother taught me about HYPOCRISY."If I told you once, I've told you a million times. Don't exaggerate!"

13. My mother taught me the CIRCLE OF LIFE"I brought you into this world, and I can take you out."

14. My mother taught me about BEHAVIOR MODIFICATION."Stop acting like your father!"

15. My mother taught me about ENVY."There are millions of less fortunate children in this world who don't have wonderful parents like you do."

16. My mother taught me about ANTICIPATION."Just wait until we get home."

17. My mother taught me about RECEIVING."You are going to really get it when you get home!"

18. My mother taught me MEDICAL SCIENCE."If you don't stop crossing your eyes, they are going to freeze that way."

19. My mother taught me ESP."Put your sweater on; don't you think I know when you are cold?"

20. My mother taught me HUMOR."When that lawn mower cuts off your toes, don't come running to me."

21. My mother taught me HOW TO BECOME AN ADULT."If you don't eat your vegetables, you'll never grow up."

22. My mother taught me GENETICS."You're just like your father."

23. My mother taught me about my ROOTS."Shut that door behind you. Do you think you were born in a barn?"

24. My mother taught me WISDOM."When you get to be my age, you'll understand what I am saying."

25. And my favorite: My mother taught me about JUSTICE."One day you'll have kids, and I hope they turn out just like you!"

And it did come to pass....

These Aren't Mickey & Minnie Mouse I'm Battling!

Mice.

Usually people are battling them as it's getting cold when they come in looking for shelter and food. So why am I all of a sudden plagued by mice like it's the medieval days? Good question but I still don't know the answer. I just know that I've got a big mouse problem and it's gross. And growing.

I've been seeing their little calling cards laying around here and there throughout the winter. But living (sort of) out in the country I learned a long time ago that we would be getting visits from all kinds of unpleasant creatures. Such as those huge horrible spiders that I think they call wood spiders or tree spiders. I'm not sure about that but my grandmother told me that they come around when you live on a farm or have a lot of trees on your property. And since we live where the houses are spread far apart and there are woods surrounding us to some extent I learned quickly that we deal with spiders, snakes and mice. Not to mention the raccoons and opossums that wander onto your deck or rummage around in your trash cans looking for food. The first time I saw one of those spiders I about had heart failure at his size. His body was as big as or bigger than a quarter and that didn't include his hairy legs. My grandmother said, "Well step on him! You're bigger than he is!" My response was something like, "Are you kidding? What if he grabs my foot and twists it off?" So she goes stomping out there with her "grandmother" shoes and knocks him to the ground and plows her foot straight down on top of him with all her might. Spider innards went squirting out from each side of her foot as she gave me a disapproving look like, "You city people are such babies!"

We're not city people anymore! Now I deal with critters. So on Monday after dropping mom off at the grocery store for her 2 hour shopping trip (that is another story altogether) I came home to work on a paper for school. I opened my front door to be assaulted with Mice Smell! I wrinkled my nose and waved my hand back and forth in front of my face trying to dissipate the odor. "Oh My God! Where is that horrid smell coming from?" I call Dwight to report the offensive smell and he informs me that he smelled it too before leaving and discovered that a mouse must have crawled under the fridge and died. He further informs me that a few nights before he had heard the fan in the fridge make a clunking noise and something fell. Then Toby sat there with his head cocked staring at the refrigerator for a long while. He believes a mouse may have met his death in the fan and is now lying there bloating up and smelling like something the CSI team might investigate. Ah the smell of decomp.

Great. Just friggin' wonderful.

The night before we had bought new traps and baited them with cheese and sat them in the office, the kitchen and the living room. By morning we had emptied them and reset them again. Ah, the power of cheese! The little bastards have been on my desk rummaging around and shredding up precious pictures. I've been scanning them and have laid them aside not expecting mice to chew them up. Plus I have a room where I burn incense, light candles and just listen to music or meditate. It's got lots of pillows on the floor and some book shelves. The little shits have been on my bookshelves leaving their 'presents' for me. Wandering over my tarot bags making them smell "mousey". I feel so violated! So this is war. These aren't Mickey and Minnie Mouse. They must DIE!

I suggested Dwight bring up the older vacuum that has paper bags we can throw away afterwards. I use it downstairs to suck up bird seed and this way we can just toss it out. I heard him yell and come stumbling up the steps with it. "What in heavens name is wrong?"

"No less than 5 baby mice ran out of the vacuum just now. We're overrun with mice!" He was shocked and horrified.

Pulling out the fridge revealed an apparent mouse cemetery. Why we haven't smelled the little bastards after they died is beyond me. I don't even want to think we got used to the odor. I don't think that's it. I think the DCon we put out last year dried them up after they died before they could rot. Oh my God it was a disgusting mess. The back had to come off the refrigerator and a mouse nest removed. It took hours to clean it all up. While he did that I busied myself rearranging our bedroom. I really didn't want to participate in the mouse fiasco.

We decided we needed to pull a President Bush and order a Shock and Awe against the mouse population in our home. We set traps everywhere we could think of. Downstairs around the bird cages, traps got set. Some with cheese and some with peanut butter. They seem to like the seed the birds throw on the floor. I also set one in my "room" downstairs. It didn't take long, maybe overnight and the traps filled up. Snapping every few hours. We'd hear them snap and then laugh maniacally. The piles of DCon are rapidly disappearing. There isn't any point in going through and cleaning up after them until they're all gone. I'm amazed and disgusted at the same time at how many there are and we're still killing them.

Apparently they're coming in around the electrical feed through the conduit which seems to have separated. Then they run down through the electrical box and into the house. This particular piece of conduit cannot be gotten to without ripping off the deck. They seem to breed like rabbits. I thought it was bad last year when we seemed to be overwhelmed by ants but mice really take the cake. No pun intended.

If this doesn't get rid of them I may have to call General Norman Schwarzkopf and get some tips on winning this war. I'm just horrified.