Oh, Haddddd.....so sweet!

To get everyone's day started off right, I thought I'd share what arrived in yesterday's mail.  I swooned when I opened it up.  Yep...a birthday thank you note from Hadley.  My sister sent me a pic of hers, too, and I just melted.  Is there anything sweeter than a five year old's thank you note, with hearts?? 

For those not in the know, I am AC--Aunt Caroline.  I gave her lipsticks, make up, and nails ( the fakeo press on kind for little girls) and it's all right there.  Great job, Hadley!!!  If she wasn't already at school this morning I'd drive over there and kiss her.  What a lovebird.

On another topic, Sis's dad forgot to shut the doggie door out of the kitchen last night when he put her to bed so that meant a certain girl waited for him to go to sleep (15 seconds max) and then came back and got in her bed in our room.  Apparently without a certain level of structure, someone goes a little crazy and at 4:30 AM, decided it was not only time to go outside but time to get in our bed, too.  Since I got up to turn off lights at 1 AM, I poked him to deal with her.  Not my deal, dude.  As a result, Sis is now snoozing and I anticipate not seeing a whole lot of her today.  Too much freedom does bad things to some people-dogs. 

Whew

I finished reading The End of Your Life Book Club last night right before I turned off my light.  I wanted to read it not only for the list of books the son and his mom read, but I now realize as a "dress rehearsal", in some ways, of my own mom's death.  I know it's coming--just like Will, his mom, and their entire family did.

Will's mom had pancreatic cancer--mom does not--and I just wanted to accompany them on their journey and try to feel what they felt.  In that sense, I was successful, because last night I fought death in my dreams like Tarzan with that damn crocodile.  I woke up this morning exhausted, and after some coffee and a good shower, I am laughing over what a total goof ball my subconscious mind was to think I could somehow rehearse mom's death.  What I'm really running from is the pain--not the death.  I can try all I want but I already know I can't out run my feelings.  Nobody can.  I just got the feelings part and death part, mixed up.

Their book club together allowed them to talk about something they both loved--the written word--at a time when talking about anything can become very difficult.  Family members often don't know what to say, whether to say anything, when to say it, how to say it, etc.  Will referenced a book on dying, Etiquette of Illness, that he found helpful in negotiating the dying minefield with someone you love.

Will's mom was coherent almost to the end until she slipped into a coma.  At the end, right before the coma begins, she repeats several times "It is what it is", and I almost lost it.  Mom used to say that all the time. 

Happy Birthday, Bruce!

Whoa.  Last night's Downton Abbey did not disappoint but it did depress.  If you need a quick rehash, check out MSNBC's version.  I will say old Julian Fellowes sure does know how to plot twist....and if someone else will hold Lady Mary, I'll give her a good whack.  Since Matthew is leaving at the end of this season, I can sure see why, and Mr. Fellowes, puhleeeese do not give Lady Mary that sweet baby girl to raise.  That would be like giving a snake a baby chick.

I'm really starting to like Lady Edith for her pluck even though she does play the victim quite a bit.  I guess when you get dumped at the altar one week, it would be a little hard to be over it by the next week.  And that really is her character's role after all.  

I'm thinking we've seen the last of Tom.  He's going to leave the baby with the Crawley's to raise and he's going back to Ireland to ultimately be caught, thrown into prison, and reappear later when his daughter is grown, in time to destroy her reputation and a suitable match in marriage.

Sir Robert is a dufus-- and Lady Cora is going to continue her slow burn at him for "killing my baby".  Dude....you are toast.  Standby for some new ladies maids to begin working at Downton, if you get my drift.

Claire just walked by on her way to MDO, cuter than anything on two legs.  I had to restrain myself from running outside for a hug and kiss.  She was yakking the whole way so I know she was talking about last night's DA.  My kind of gal.

Lastly, Happy Birthday, Bruce!!  HAPPY 60th!!   

(I couldn't resist--he's really 59.)

Arvella and Eva Lou

                                               
It's weird what you forget until you see a picture of someone and then it all comes rushing back, deep from within your subconscious mind.  Above is a picture of me with Arvella and Eva Lou, our two housekeepers from childhood.  We were at my grandparents house at White Rock and I can almost smell the snuff Arvella used to dip, but that's not the memory that surprised me.  It was that Eva Lou's uniform was always gaping open and missing a button.  Why in this world I would remember that, I have no clue but this picture sure tells the tale as to why I was always terrified of Eva Lou.  I don't think she ever smiled in her entire life and she once held me over the washing machine with the top open and the agitator going, telling me she was gonna drop me in, because I wasn't behaving.   If I hadn't told my mother on her she just might have done it, too. The happiest day of my life was the day she quit working for us to go to Nursing school.  She was just flat meaner than a snake.  Smart maybe, but m-e-a-n.  Arvella was my favorite and this is the only picture I have of her.  Lordy, lordy....I loved her.  Even with the snuff.

My sister and I crack up when one of us mentions about how mom used to tell us that "raising children was the best job in the world and how much she loved it".  Whaaaat?  She had two maids everyday when we were little--no wonder she has such great memories of our childhood.

4 Rules for the GOP--great article

In lieu of any words from me, read Steve Blow's article in the Dallas Morning News: 4 Rules for the GOP.  It's right on the money and I'm so glad he wrote it.  That's a party I could vote for if they made enough changes. 

Read it and comment if you are so inclined and don't forget Downton Abbey at 8 PM.  Happy Sunday!

Close Encounters of the Squirrel Kind

We had a close encounter with a dead squirrel last night.  Too close for my taste.  It seems that when Sis went out in the backyard to tankle before bed, she brought in a dead friend.  I might mention it was headless, which further disgusts me but that's not the worst part.  She left her friend on the rug where Fred found it.  I think I'm going to lose my mind.  Knowing it would totally gag me, Fred couldn't wait to tell me he'd found "traces of squirr-furrrr in her bed, too".  That, my friends, is the # 1 problem with hounds--both of them--they are just flat gross.

Now, on to happier topics.  I saw my main squeeze next door yesterday, Ms. Claire and baby brother John on her way to MDO at the church down the block.  Claire stays but baby John was just along for the walk.  I called to Claire as she walked past and she stopped, smiled, spied my coffee, and I went to give her a big old hug and kiss.  Baby John is now brisket sized and round and roly-poly as he can be.  If he hadn't been in the housekeeper's pack I'd have grabbed him for some major hugs and kisses, too.  Since it was casual Friday, Claire had on her jeans, a green sweater with a flower, and a clippee butterfly holding her hair out of her eyes.  I can't wait for the weather to warm up so she can come help me water and just piddle in the front yard.  I already have Popsicles in the freezer for when we need to take a work break. 

Happy Saturday to all.  Make it a good one.

This and that

It appears that the washing machine of death has just eaten one of our mattress pads and is refusing to let go.  Gee whiz, my life is glamorous.  While I wait for the repair man to come to remove the pad from the clenched jaws of the agitator, I thought I might see what's happening in the rest of the world.  As it stands, not a whole lot is going on.

I've decided to join the Willed Body Program at Southwestern Medical Center and let them have what ever is left of me when I croak.  I have to see how that impacts my desire to be an organ donor, too.  I figure when I'm finished using my body if there are any workable parts that somebody else could use, come and get 'um.  The Willed Body lady just told me they work together to make sure both programs get what they need so now I just need the boys to sign my paperwork and off it goes.

I love the idea of somebody getting to use me if they can, learn what they need to know, then shove me in the giant toaster and cremate me.  No fuss, no muss.  I don't want to be put in a BOX--or in the GROUND.  When I die, all it will take is one phone call to the Willed Body people, and my kids never have to do another thing.  No funeral home, no casket, no burial plot, no urn.  Zippo.  They don't even have to pay for my cremation.  It's on the house.  You can check the box if you want them to get your cremains back and I checked no--they didn't have a hell, no, box.  What would they do with those.....put them in a litter box or the flower beds?   If they want to have a service, fine, but I don't want one.  Me? I'd rather have a party with great food, good friends, with everyone telling stories of all the dumb stuff I've done and laughing their heads off.  That's my kind of funeral.  I plan to hang around to see who comes, who doesn't, and who tells the best story.  Just know this...if you lie, I'm gonna know it. 

I don't know why this kind of stuff freaks people out so much. To me, it's just not that big a deal.  And that's just how I see it. 

Whaz up?

Foggy, lazy-hazy morning and I'm loving it.  Sis is in her bed underneath where I am, and snoozing her wiffle snore.  I don't think there's any mistake that we chose her since everyone around here at one time or another has been known to snore.  It's just what we do.

This morning after doing my morning readings, I added a few things to my God List.  For those that don't know, my God List is a list of things I've given to God to fix or settle since I simply cannot, and do not have the power to do any of it anyway.  It's also the stuff that scares the liver out of me, the stuff I can't control (and for that we can all be eternally grateful since I would no doubt make an even bigger mess of whatever the situation might be.)  The good news is, it's also a faith list.  Once something has been taken care of by God, I write on there how things worked out and it never ceases to remind me how He really does take care of me, IF I get out of His way.  Notice the IF part?? Fear/the need to control makes me want to drive the bus vs. be a rider.  Great reminder for this morning.  

I just hung up with my best pal who moved to Flagstaff, Arizona recently.  Nothing starts my day off better than hearing from her.  She is a constant source of inspiration to me and from time to time, she makes me scream out laughing over how alike we are.  She's my junior by at least a hundred years which just goes to show you that age is just a number. 

Lastly, if you didn't see Scarletta's last song from their showcase last night, enjoy it if you want.  I've posted it on my page as the proud momma that I am.  IMO, they rocked it to the rafters.  Woo hoo!!! 

Brothers and Sisters

Yesterday afternoon, I saw the sweetest thing ever as I sat in line to turn left.  I was across the street from Coffee Park and I saw two brothers skateboarding--one older (12?), one younger(7?)-- only that wasn't the best part. They were on the same skateboard together, the little brother facing the big brother with his arms wrapped the big brother's waist, as the big brother guided them zooming along.  It was so sweet I could hardly stand it.  With school out yesterday, the park was loaded with kids and seeing these two just made bust out in a big old grin.  I can still see them both in my head and it just gasses me.

I ran by this afternoon to see mom and for the first time, I don't think she knew who I was.  It didn't kill me like I thought it might--I just got pictures and showed her who I was, and then tried to be as comforting and fun as I could.  Then later, she said my name so I guess my monologue got her back on track. 

I told her about seeing the "Smalls" yesterday since it was Had's 5th birthday and how I'd gone by with her present only to have Avery come walking out, naked as a jaybird and wet, after taking a bubble bath.  That girl loves her some water....  It made mom laugh so at least she was entertained.  I told mom   Hadley shared some of her Disney lip smackers  with Avery, but the little girl, fake, press on nails with the decorations on them were a no share, no how, no way, ain't gonna happen 'cause it's my birthday so back off sister-girl, and that's how it went down.  Luckily, about the same time Avery got cold and needed clothes, so no one died over the fake nails.  I will say that had I known they would have been so much fun, I'd have bought two.  Oh, well......girls just wanna be girls. 

I told mom I hadn't seen Hudson since the party over here several weeks ago and it seemed like he'd grown another three inches. He had some kind of gel AND shave cream in his hair and I could have just eaten him.  He smelled wonderful. All three of them just wow me no end and they always provide great fodder to entertain mom with.  She loves hearing about them and I can sure understand why. 

Yeah, right...

I am totally gobsmacked.  I just read a quote by one of former Governor Romney's son's, Tagg, saying his dad "wanted to be President less than anyone he'd ever seen in his life."   Well, you can smack me with a 2x4....why did he run if he didn't want to win?  Never mind I'd imagine that being President is the hardest job in the world, and that you'd sure better have a real desire and steely constitution in order to do the job but to not want to win??  What's up with that, Romney??  The job is simply too damn hard on everyone in your family, to run and not want to win.  Why would you put your family through such an ordeal?  His son said "He is private, loves his family deeply and wants to be with them, but doesn't love all the attention."   Really??  

I'm fairly sure President Obama would love to be spend more time with his family, too, and I bet he's pretty clear by now what living in a fishbowl is like.  Wow.  Proof again that the right guy won.

Congratulations, Mr. President. 

Cool guy

I just witnessed the coolest thing ever.  We were at Corner Bakery having lunch and there was a lady there I've seen around our area who I suspect is mentally ill--possibly bipolar--and not on meds.  This lady is African American and sometimes is talking to herself, usually carrying a bag of some sort, and doesn't usually look scruffy or dirty like some homeless people--just off or odd--like you know something just isn't quite right with her.  At CB, she went up, got in the line, but never ordered.  She would go over by the drinks area, and then  repeat the whole process.  The workers behind the counter would then take the next person in line.  This went on for several minutes.  I don't know if she didn't have any money, couldn't read, or was just too ill to be able to complete the task.

Finally a man walked forward, asked her if she was hungry and if he could pay for her lunch.  She said yes she was hungry but didn't seem to be able to figure out what to eat, so he helped her.  He then paid for her meal, they took her name instead of giving her a number, and she wandered off toward the drinks area again.  As he left, I thanked the man for his kindness and for doing something for her when no one else seemed to notice.

So cool.  That man was my husband.

Yawn, stretch...

Does a morning get any better than this?  The birds are singing right outside my window, the sun is streaming in, and I slept like Harry with his piddows.  (See previous post)  My coffee is hot, Sister is snoozing away all warm and toasty in her bed and life is just um...um...gooooood.

We had one minor miscalculation last night when the guys delivered the bed.  I forgot to run in and put the bed skirt between the mattress and box so Brian and Bruce helped me get it on.  A bit of a wrestling match but it's all on and looks lovely.  Brian was laughing watching his Dad punch on the mattress to break up the material underneath.  He knows once his Dad starts doing it, he won't stop, so we both had to make him quit.  There's always just one more place that needs punching.  Three of us over here are all a little OCD (I can't speak for Benji) so it's become a LOL eye roll kind of thing when any one of us gets started doing our thing.  I swanney...I don't know why people have such issues around admitting to themselves and others, that they have some little "issues".  To me, that's the part that makes us all who we are and wonderful....perfectly imperfect people.  I'd LOTS rather laugh than get freaked out over something I can't fix and is part of my DNA.  We don't comb fringe on pillows or vacuum in a pattern but I do like to mow a certain way.  :) 

On a naughty note, I got a call yesterday afternoon from the first gal I spoke with about mattresses at another store.  As I think I said earlier, she didn't really seem all that interested in my bidness' so I went elsewhere.  When she called, I told her I'd already purchased a mattress and she wanted to know where.  Then she wanted to know if it was under my name and I asked her "Why do you ask?" knowing in my gut why she was asking.  (Had she not been pushy and inappropriate I don't think my alarm system would have gone off in my head.)  She replied that "she wanted to be sure I'd gotten the best deal possible" and I assured her I was very happy with the deal I'd gotten and never gave her the information she was requesting.  I may be way off base here but I had the feeling she was going to call over and try to undercut the sale of my salesperson, claiming I was somehow her customer first.  NOT.  Sleazy, no?  I plan to call over to our store and speak with the Manager today at noon to be sure this does not happen.  I will flat go to the mattress over this one. 

Harry's piddows

Busy day and lots going on.  After having a backache most the past month, I finally talked the Bossman  into going mattress shopping.  Halleluia, I'm going to sleep good tonight.  When the lady told him if we bought a certain brand we didn't need to replace it for at least 25-30 years, I knew we had him.  Then it was just a matter of which one felt the best.  Personally, the one Oprah sleeps on was way too firm for me so ours is a little squishier.  Bossman said he liked it and if we change our minds, we can try another one.  I am lovin' that and can hardly wait to jump on it when it arrives.

I had gone yesterday to snoop out some but just didn't feel the love at the store where I went.  As nice as the gal was, she just didn't seem to want my business all that much.  We went somewhere else today and Calley was wonderful.  She told us all kinds of stuff, threw in free delivery and special "piddows", that we each got to choose.  (The gal yesterday?  Uh, no.)   Now that's what I call service and it should be here in a few hours.  Oh, yeah, baby...  Calley even locked into our order that should we at anytime want to add the old people "sit up motor" to ours, we can get it at a certain amount off, since it's on sale now.  I knew Bossman would never go for that....he liked it all right but it was way too geriatric and depressing for him.  Me?  I'd have bought that sucker it in a heartbeat and been putting my feet and my head up, tonight.  Men and their egos. Yawn.

We've stripped our old bed and washed and air dried the allergen protector zip thingy our old mattress slept in.  We can put it on our new one even though it doesn't need one.  If it fits, I may do it anyway just because I can.  If it's too much trouble, I'll punt that idea.  Picking out new "piddows" was a hoot--Calley told us that "men usually liked this one and women generally liked that one" but we were encouraged to try the feel of all of them.  Danged if she wasn't right.  Mine is a little softer and squishier than his (his feels like a surfboard to me) but his is good for side AND back sleepers, both of which he is.  Done deal.

For those not in the know, piddows are obviously pillows, but piddows are an old family funny from my nephew, Harry.  When Hairball was a toddler, he was in love with his baby piddows and carried them everywhere.  They were his buddies, and were occasionally pressed into service for a "piddow pight" and to beat the tarnation out of his older brother, Dallas.  Funniest thing I've ever seen.  Still makes me laugh to think about it.  Harry and his piddows.....

I'm head bangin'

Today I'm just frustrated.  The world's not spinning the way I think it should and people aren't doing --whatever it is--my way.  I feel like a toddler.  Even Sis isn't doing it right....she won't go on a walk with me.  She wants to snooze in the sun in her bed and I get that...it does look rather delicious...but I just want her to do what I want her to do.  Like that'll ever happen.

When everything in the world is bugging me, clearly the problem is with me.  I guess I need to figure out whether I need a nap, something to eat, what's really going on underneath my frustration, if I'm lonely (I'm not) or what I'm mad about.  Bingo.

What I want right now are the answers to several important questions I have and it's simply not time for the answers yet.  Why?  Because it's just not.  But I still want the answers because I just want to know what ultimately happens and how things work out.  When I get wrapped around my own axle, the best thing for me is to just go get busy doing something else.  Preferably something that involves helping someone else.  That, or go take a nap and get over my Big Girl Pull Ups Wearing Toddler Acting Self. 

Lance--my personal pinata

I'm not "mesmerized or riveted" by Lance Armstrong's recent partial admissions of doping, like Oprah seems to be.  Granted, I haven't seen her show yet and I suspect that's just to generate interest so people will watch.  What I am is, pissed.  I am pissed that Lance Armstrong is not only a liar, but a bully.  He bullied team mates into keeping quiet, threatened their wives and families, and countless others who threatened "to tell".  He destroyed other honest cyclists attempts to win by cheating and then lying, and then lying some more, when everyone knew he was lying.  Talk about sick.

To me, that smacks of someone who is a sociopath and I have my own definition of what that means. For me, that means someone who has no regard for the well being of others, lacks the genuine ability to care or see how their actions have hurt and impacted others.  In other words, they are a narcissist who feels that whatever they do is OK.  Any rules do not apply to them.  The ends justify the means. 

Which brings me to bullying.  We all know what that is and the devastating effects it has on kids and adults.  Bullying is simply not acceptable and I think that's what makes me madder than anything about this whole situation.  Lance, you've lied, cheated, bullied-- and heaven only knows what else-- that's some path of lasting damage you've left behind. 

Mr. Armstrong, you simply DO NOT get it.  No stepping forward with a partial and personal accountability statement so that you can ride again in competition, is going to wipe your slate clean.  Dude....it's all about YOU and what YOU want.  What about the people you've hurt?  What about the crummy example you've set for kids and fans of cycling?  Go look up the definition of sociopath, narcissist, and bully and don't be surprised if you find your picture there. 

As I said in an earlier post, just go away.  Get in therapy and find out why you chose to do what you've done and then go clean it up with the people you've hurt.  Do it out of the spotlight and do it for yourself.   Otherwise, you'll do it again.  Get the lesson this time so you don't have to keep repeating it. 

Teeth, again

Today we've got to talk about teeth.  Why?  Well, because have you noticed everyone in Hollywood has the same teeth?  Seriously, they do.  Do they all have the same dentist?  Is there a dentist to the stars or just the same company that manufactures all those "rims"?

At the Golden Globes, for instance.  Everybody's teeth were the exact same super white.  That's not bleach, folks.  That's thousands upon thousands of dollars worth of veneers.  Maybe when you are just starting out as an actor you bleach or worse yet, go the snap on teeth route, but bleaching makes your teeth sensitive and snap on's....do we even need to discuss that?   Or the flipper teeth?  Those are handy for entertaining little kids but beyond that, how do you eat?  You know corn on the cobs definitely off the list as is chewy caramel, taffy, gum....  Honey, that flipper or those snap on's are never gonna make it through any of  that.  You'd better stick to old people food if that's what's in your mouth. Teeth.  Just another of life's little mysteries.

A fat girl is in the den as we speak, chewing one of the "breath" chew bones we give her.  While her breath is actually not that bad, she heard me getting something in the pantry that sounds exactly like the bag her bones come in so nothing would do but she had to have one.  I'm good with that.  It's cold, a little dreary, and she needs something fun to do so a bone works just fine for me.  She took it back to her bed and is happily gnawing away.  Life is so simple when you are a dog.  Too bad she can't read.

Last Night's low down

If you missed Downton Abbey last night in favor of the Golden Globes well, poor you.  What were you thinking?  DA did not disappoint and here's a quick wrap up:

1) Daisy, the kitchen maid, has the hots for the new footman--O'Brien's nephew.
2) O'Brien and Thomas are still at it and O'Brien told Thomas last night she's going to get him after getting her in trouble with her Ladyship.  If I were him, I'd sleep with one eye open from now on.
3) Anna and Mr. Bates are making slow progress finding out who really killed the former Ms. Bates or if she committed suicide.  Bates was almost framed in the clink but a friend tipped him off to check his bed, and he did.  Whew.
4) Lady Mary pinched the letter from Lavinia's dad that essentially let's Matthew off the hook of feeling guilty.  He was not going to read it.  When Matthew thought it was a forgery, Mary found out that Daisy had posted the letter for Lavinia the same day she died.  Hence, Matthew can now keep all the money, not feel guilty, and save DA.  Can I get an amen on that?  Meanwhile, the family had been to look at less suitable lodgings and found them wanting.  How do you spell relief?
5) Oh, Lordy....Lady Edith.  In short, she got dumped, at the altar, by Lord Strallan in front of the entire village and a church full of friends and family.  Talk about getting smacked by the bad luck wagon.  Dude....could you not have spared her that embarrassment and at least canceled the wedding privately?  Nah...we needed the drama.  I figure now that the money is flowing again, they'll pack Lady Lydia off to America to her grandmother to find a husband and to have some roaring twenties fun.  That would make for some great TV.  There's no way she can show her face in that town anytime soon, and now Lord Strallan is persona non grata everywhere.  Somebody ought to accidentally shoot him.

Storm clouds appear to be brewing for next weeks show.   I can hardly wait.

I had an early morning visit from my sweet small fry, Avery, and her mom.  They were on their way to an appointment and stopped by to say hi.  I ran out front to meet them and had my coffee cup with all three of them pictured on it and Avery looked at me and said "That's Hudson".  When I showed her the picture of her, I'm not sure she recognized herself.  She was a lot younger so that makes sense. Plus, it's hard to recognize yourself when you're only three.  Avery told me she was having "a Tangled birthday party" with Hadley, or at least that's what I heard.  I looked at her mom and found out that Tangled (?) is a modern day Rapunzel.  Oh,  sure...I knew that.  Huh???  

Sunday

There are several projects going on here today.  My chili making assistant just went AWOL after I let her have a little bit of the plain, cooked, burger meat on top of her other food.  She is a lousy assistant anyway so that's nothing new.  She eats lunch and then quits.  You just can't get good help anymore.  I ended up not making chili yesterday because the meat wasn't totally thawed and because a nap sounded like a much better idea.  It was rainy and you have to take a nap when it rains.  It's the law.

Outside, prior to my chili making, I was assisting with the unloading and re-loading of our wood onto a new wood rack we received as a Christmas gift.  A certain someone around here made a boogered up one years ago that's sagging in all the wrong places--hence this lovely gift.  Anywho, I bundled up and began filling up the wood ring by the back door first.  Then I moved on to helping with the second phase.  As usual, Mr. I am in Charge Here was making an otherwise easy job, 50X harder than it needed to be.  I made a simple suggestion, he poo-pooed it, only for me to find minutes later he was doing what I'd told him to do in the first place.  I just looked at him and laughed.

He blew in the back door a few minutes ago to be sure I was still making chili and I'm really thinking he was  wanting his assistant back--the real brains of this operation.  I handed him a big glass of water and told him to please drink it, since he forgets to drink water when he works.  I am now coating and gloving back up to go determine if my help is actually required, while the chili snoozes in the kitchen.  Nobody makes me laugh harder than he does except maybe Sister.

Sweet Juan and his band of yard guys came yesterday as promised and had just started to move the leaf bags when the sky opened up on them.  Their trash bag raincoats were no match for the deluge so they jumped back in Juan's van to wait for a break in the rain.  It finally let up, out they jumped, and the pile of bags is now waiting for the pick up guys in the morning.  Muchas gracias, Juan!

Saturday stuff

The chili making pot is out, the meat is thawing, and I'm ready to make a boat load of it this afternoon.  It's not a hassle or hard to make.  I just figure when you're making some, make a lot.  Fred and his assistant are in the backyard blowing leaves before the monsoon begins again, so all is quiet at this end.

Yesterday I was thrilled to set up my pecan cracking station in the backyard at our outdoor dinner table, and cracked an entire basket of pecans gathered on Sis's and my walks.  The new house we've found has a totally different species of pecans and while I like Pecan Lady's pecans better, I'm keeping my vow never to partake of hers again.  Lady...if you can't be nice, you can keep your damn pecans.  I don't need 'um.  (But, I never said I didn't still want them.)

My favorite yard man in the world will be by this afternoon to drag all the bags of leaves he blew for us before Christmas, out front for the big monthly pick up next week.  Juan said he'd come--just to call him and remind him.  He does such an incredible job, it's like your yard's had a mani and pedi by the time he's done.  Our family has known his for over twenty years and it's always fun to see him and find out how everyone is.  His mother and grandmother used to make the most unbelievable Mexican food in the world.  Ohhhh, how I wish I had been able to learn how they did it and take notes.  Their black beans with cojita cheese makes my mouth water just to think about, and everything was made from scratch.  I swanney...they cooked for days one time when mom had his mom, Katerina, fix us a big comida.  The food just kept coming.  We about ate ourselves to death.  Katerina's black beans looked like regular old black beans--that is until you put them in your mouth.   Then they tasted like something from beyond our solar system.  Looking at this picture, I can almost smell them.  Oh, man.

Privacy on FB...Nah

I just saw on FB, again, a list of all this crappage' (french pronunciation) you are to do to keep your FB stuff private.  I'm totally on board with the privacy part--but the list of hoops to jump through is a bit daunting.  First you bow and face Mecca, clicking your heels twice in ruby red slippers, while rubbing your rabbit's foot, patting your head and rubbing your stomach, while drinking a glass of water upside down.  Seriously?  I am old.  I can't follow a long laundry list of steps to take, without printing the damn list off first.  Two or three steps, maybe, and they have to be easy and something I already know on my computer, otherwise it just ain't gonna happen. 

I think if you are on FB, the idea of privacy sounds good but is a pipe dream.  Anything that bills itself as a social network, by description, has no scruples about about floating your stuff all over cyber space, so your best bet is, don't post anything you don't want God and everybody knowing.  Otherwise, we're gonna be all up in yer' bidness.

And...that's just how I see it, baby.

Black Humor of Medicine

I ran by to see mom yesterday afternoon only to find there is a bug going around at The Edge on her unit, so since she was fast asleep, I didn't linger.  I got a squirt of hand sanitizer on my way out the door and hauled it out of there.  Since they have to keep it really warm for the residents, that allows a bug to go full tilt in a hurry.  Cold, griping residents or a bug?  I say wrap 'em up, but then I don't get to call the shots over there.  So, for the short term I'm staying way the heck away from over there.  I need the flu or the norovirus like I need a horn in the middle of my forehead.  No thanks.

Further scoop over there is that the remodeling in her area is "due to start at any minute".  Hmmm...since I've been hearing that for months, I am guardedly optimistic that it might start by Spring and even that might be an over assumption.  IF you are picking up a note of scorn in my voice, you are correct.  I am not pleased over all, nor is my sister, with the level of cleanliness we are experiencing over there.  The whole unit needs a face lift--paint, paper, etc. and general sprucing.  I do understand that with the cognitive level of lots of the residents it probably doesn't matter two hoots what it looks like to them and that keeping it clean is as difficult as having a unit full of toddlers, but to visiting family, it's tough enough without the added depressing surroundings.

 I know I'm somewhat picking nits here--the real issue is, it just hurts to go over there.  There.  I said it.  And, if I'm going to be brutally honest, I honestly hate going sometimes.  Whew.  Nothing like getting that out.  It's so sad and painful, that when I go, I just don't stay a really long time.  Some people can.  I can't.  Then other times when I go, mom makes me laugh, something hilariously funny happens, and it's not so bad.  The Big Fat Problem problem is, you never know which way the pendulum's going to swing and when it smacks you in the face, it hurts. 

In closing, a little black humor for any nurses or for Dr. Frostie, should she read this:  the Nurse Manager and I were talking yesterday about recent events over there ( several deaths) and she mentioned a new lady had moved in a week or so ago, and then just up and died last week.  We looked at each other and burst out laughing.  I can't explain it to you--it's just the black humor of medicine.

Randomness

Yay!  January 10th.  The official first day of Spring.  Not.  But I'm going to pretend like it is because I want to.  The sun is out for the first time in days and I'm ready for green grass, beautiful flowers, red bud trees, and chirping little animals.  I get bored with the same weather for several days, so I think today is just going to be Pretend Spring.  At least for a little while anyway.  Sis and I are going to take a walk and I may go get myself some pretty flowers and put them around the house.  I think I'll get some for mom, too. 

Is anyone other than me hooked on watching Nashville?  I am so loving that show and if you need a fun show with great music, it's a good one to watch.  There are so many snakes in that show it's hard to keep them all straight.  Ditto Scandal, which is on tonight.  Love, sex, greed, and people so diabolically controlling, it's just a real slice of life to watch.  If you want to see people just bein' people, watch one of these and just have ya some fun.

Now, I want to chat about the word ambivalence--simultaneous or contradictory feelings felt at the same time-- according to Webster's.. Man...I do that.  I do that about pie, bathing Sis, exercise, people, situations-- and all kinds of stuff.  It's not bad or wrong.  It just is.  I think that's how lots of things are in my world....and I think for me sometimes it's really confusing.  It makes me not know which way to turn or what to do, until I sit in it for awhile.  Sometimes I have to journal about what ever it is that's bothering until I can see it all clearly, and putting it on paper has been a huge assist for me personally.  Getting crap out of my head and on paper somehow puts whatever it is in it's proper perspective and shrinks it down to it's real size.  Sometimes it's still a big deal and sometimes it's not --it may just feel BIG in my head. Feeling big and actually being big, are two entirely different things.  Can you relate?

Sis says to tell you that she's having a bath tonight come hell or high water and we've already had high water.  Uh, oh.  I hope her dad is reading this.

Gray

Fear is such a weird emotion.  All it is, is a signal, but I hate the feeling it produces for me.  Sometimes it makes me want to run, other times it makes me want to dive under the covers and never, ever come back out.  Sometimes I default into to anger because I feel so vulnerable.  There.  I said it.  The v-word.  When I feel vulnerable, I'm afraid someone's going to make me do something I don't want to do. I think that's what happened to a lot of us in childhood.  Growing up, it didn't much matter whether you wanted to do something or not--you didn't get a vote.  You were a kid and that was that.  You just did what you were told to do.

Today, feeling vulnerable is only OK for me if I remind myself that today I'm a grown up, and I CAN take care of myself.  I can speak up for what I want or need, I can have boundaries around what works for me and what doesn't, and then I can leave the results up to God.  I can gather more information in areas where I am not well versed, I can look at my options because believe it or not, I always have them.  As a kid, I never knew I had any options.  I was raised in a family with some very toxic black and white thinking, and as a result, that's all I ever knew, until I learned differently.  It's not their fault.  They couldn't teach me something they didn't know.

Holy Cow....no wonder I'm crazy about the color gray.  It's a combo of  black and white and opens up a world of options in thought, design, in mood.  I can slide up and down that gradient adjusting myself to what feels safest, most comfortable, most pleasant.  I'm not stuck.  I don't have to settle for black or white.  Ain't life grand.              

                                                     

Downton Abbey--last night's wrap up

Season Three.  Week One.  Downton Abbey.

Here's a quick wrap up if you missed it last night.   

Get over yourself, Matthew, and take the damn money from Lavinia's father.  Your father-in-law is no brain trust and he needs the cash bad so shuck all your self righteousness and just do it.  I worried about what is gonna happen half the night last night, so just do it so I can sleep tonight.

Lady Edith, one good lap dance and that one armed guy will be all yours.  He's sweet though a little giddy at times, and you need a husband and he needs a wife, so get on with it.  Besides, I like weddings and I want to see another one, pronto. 

Now, as for Thomas and O'Brien, you guys are a match made in schemers heaven so for heaven sake, don't let up.  I want you two fightin' like two cats in a bag before season three ends. 

Mrs. Levinson, you are no dummy not to give your son- in- law any more money, but if they don't fix your makeup and that deathly pallor they've given you, they might as well lay you out on a table now and just wait for you to kick.  With that make up job, your time's about up.

Dowager Countess, you are a crack up and steal every scene you are in.  Bravo for sending Lady Sybil and Tom the money to come for the wedding.  Why, you are a sly old fox aren't you?

Mrs. Hughes, Mrs. Pattmore and the gang will all take care of you if it does turn out to be cancer, and if it's not, well thank the good Lord.  You do need to tell Mr. Carson, though, because he thinks you aren't doing your job and will be all over you unless you give him the 411.  Girlfriend, just tell him.

Anna, we need a really good plot twister to get Mr. Bates out of jail before he kills his cell mate.  That other guy is just itchin' to get himself choked to death and your husband has had about eeeeenuf.

Tune in here for next week's wrap up. 

Bucky Beaver and the China men

Over the weekend, my sister burned me a CD of all the family pictures she's been collecting for a few years.  Once I got it, I proceeded to try to add them to my stash.  Long story short, once Brian and I figured out how to make a Mac program and a Windows program talk, we screamed over each picture as I opened it.  I had an opportunity to tell him things I remembered about some of the pictures and the people in them.  I'll be sharing some of them because they are just too funny not to.

One particular picture of my sister as a tee tiny little girl, had Brian and I rolling.  I don't think I'd ever seen her with her "Bucky Beaver" front teeth, since she later knocked them hard enough to turn them a lovely shade of gray, and they ultimately fell out.  That's what happens when you jump up and down on the bed.  Seeing this picture was a real eye opener. Brian and I weren't even positive it was her at first, since those two front teeth were just enormous for a small little gal.  Her sandals and socks are a real fashion statement of their own.  OOO, la la.

 It was made at Coon Creek with the man that ran the ice house, where you took your catch to have it cleaned and packed in ice to take home.  I don't think for a second they caught those fish, though.  Some of those are big enough to have pulled them both in the water. 

As a result of these pic's, I've been stuck in my own personal reverie of the past, and remembering people, places, smells, rooms, furniture, and doo-dads from my grandparents house at White Rock.  Just yesterday I called my sister and asked her if she remembered these two porcelain China men (I know that's not PC but it's the only way I could describe them to her) that sat cross legged on either side of my Mimi's piano at White Rock.  My sister yelled "Hell, yes, I remember them!  I have them--packed away some where!!"  The men's hands and head were movable and if you taped them gently, you could get all three bobbing up and down at different rates of speed.  Faaaaahbulous entertainment for two pesky little girls.

Lance..you make me barf

I am at a total loss here.  I read yesterday where Lance Armstrong is considering admitting to the doping allegations--the same allegations that have generally proven he doped.  Why in the hell would it matter to anybody if he admits it or not?  The article said he was hoping it would lift the ban on him participating in any future Olympic competitions.  Whaaaaat?  Dude...are you nuts?  If you doped, denied it repeatedly for years, and finally were proven to have done it, why do you think we'd ever want to see or hear from you again?  You may want to compete again, but in my world, actions have consequences.

 You screw up, you are human.  You lie about it, deny it over and over again, you're still human, but very dumb.  To want me to give you the chance to do it all again, now you're freaking crazy.  I don't trust you and you've shown me zero to suggest or support your willingness to take responsibility for your actions or atone for your misdeeds.  You just want to cut a deal for yourself. You aren't sorry for what you did.  You're just sorry you got caught.  Had you owned your mistake, apologized, gone away and shown some kind of remorse, maybe.  But you didn't.

 Knock...knock...Lance. Go away.  Not interested. 

I'm not saying goodbye....

I haven't said much about this but here it is.  I'm sad.  Really sad.  One of my most favorite people in the world is moving away from Dallas.  I've known it was coming for a few months so I did my usual protective denial dance.  Until today.  Today it hit me square in the solar plexus and I just want to go hide in my bed under my covers with Sister, and feel small. 

I'm embarrassed to admit no one close to me--at least not a best friend--has ever moved away from me. This is all new territory for me.  Yes, we'll Skype.  And, yes, she'll be back for a visit in March and again in April.  I still don't like it. But, I guess I'll have to big girl up and accept it, even though it truly sucks.  This is just one of the changes rockin' my world and this one is a doozie.

I'm personally naming 2013 as The Year of Change.  It started at the tail end of 2012 and has kept on rolling.  Some of it I like, some of it I don't and the reality is, it will continue so I might as well go with the flow.  Otherwise, it's like standing in the middle of a shallow, c-o-l-d, river in Colorado trying to force it to flow another direction--the direction I want it to flow.  It's pretty clear who wins there and it sure isn't me.  I look back at things I've resisted and found some of them were great learning experiences, some were extremely painful and others ended up just fine all by themselves, once I let it go.  When I think anything is ALL ABOUT ME is when I'm headed for big trouble.  99.99999% of stuff isn't about me.  I just think it is and I get sucked in to that ego trip of thinking it's up to me to fix it.  It's NOT.

Yesterday I learned the greatest new acronym and I thought I'd pass it on here.  It has to do with me wanting my way.  I'll say something once, and then if I drag it back out and say it again, I've got an agenda and I'm trying to manipulate and get my way.  Moral of the story: anytime I say something more than one time, I'm pushing to get my way so here's the acronym.

W-- Why
A--  am
I--    I
T--   talking      If I've said it once, I don't need to say it again.  Dang.

Winter thoughts

Winter.  I love it.  Some people don't but to me there's nothing better than what Winter is all about.  It's for resting.  The trees, plants, bushes are all "resting", as are the fields, grass, and other plants.  Winter is for reflection.  It's a chance to take stock, assess, make gentle plans for new changes.  Winter is about reading, relaxing, rejuvenating, re-charging so that when Spring rolls around, your batteries aren't low.  I'm a big believer in the natural rhythms of the seasons and I would find it really hard to live somewhere where it's one season most of the time--hot or cold.  I need the change in order to be able to.......change.

I like going to the front hall closet and pulling out a coat.  I forget what coats I have if I don't get to wear them.  I enjoy building fires in the fireplace, making soups for dinner, and snuggling with Sister.  I love attempting to expand my brain by reading, studying, opening my mind to new ideas and learning.  I enjoy looking at the spare elegant trees, bare in their simplicity.  I can usually only see the squirrel and birds nest at this time of year, since they are usually covered by tree's leaves.

Right now the birds out front are bathing in the accumulated water by the curb.  That water must be icy but they are still bathing and flapping, if not for very long.  Beyond their occasional chirping, it's quiet--not the usual hustle and bustle and noise out front.  Winter is quiet, gentle, noiseless.  Savor it. 

Toddler Travelers

I'm so glad to be starting a new year, clean slate, and all that.  2012 wasn't a bad year--I'm just looking forward to new faces, new places, and lots more good coffee.  And speaking of coffee, as I drank mine this morning, a little pink coated visitor came over with her dad, to explore our yard.  Not sure what the attraction is but she likes to "adventure" around over here.  While we are on the subject of Claire, here's what happened yesterday.  I was sitting her at my computer, and kept hearing her voice.  I knew her dad had left to go walk their dog, and usually she goes, too.  Maybe it was too cold and wet for her yesterday--don't know.  So, on and on I hear her voice calling "Dadeee......Dadeee...".  Then it's quiet and she begins to call "Momeeee......Momeee".  This goes on for about 5-10 minutes, and then the tone of her voice changes.  I immediately jump up and look out the window to find her all alone standing in our front yard by one of the big trees, about to cry.  I ran out the front door and called to her....I didn't want to just run grab her for fear I'd scare her even more.

When I called her name, she looked at me relieved that I knew her, and starts walking towards me with her arms out.  I scooped up that baby chile' and hugged her to pieces, while we walked over to her house.  Her front door was w-i-d-e open and her mom had no clue she'd opened the door herself, and gone out.  Claire was in her footie pj's, no coat, and her little feet were wet and her body was cold, but otherwise, she was all smiley. 

Her mom was unglued until I told her, laughing, the same thing had happened to me with Benji.  He was outside with Bruce and me, and each of us thought the other one had him, until a lady from the church came marching over asking if we'd "lost" a toddler.  Benji had crossed a busy street, in diapers, a t-shirt and tennies, and just gone over to see what was shakin' at the church baseball game.  I liketa died.