Last night we had a lovely time. Friends came over for dinner, we drank a little vino, and enjoyed good conversation.
When everyone left, I started to tidy up while hubby took Bailie, our little white dog, and went to the bedroom to lay down and watch TV.
Fine by me. I could get more done that way.
Finally I'm ready to go to bed. I walk into our bedroom and what a cute picture; Bailie is snuggling next to hubby, curled up by his chest. Precious.
It's late and she hasn't been out for her "last time" potty break, so I say to her "Let's go outside and go potty". Funny how I include myself in that activity.
I reach for her.
She growls.
I draw back in disbelief.
Hubby looks surprised.
I reach again.
She growls again.
What is up with her????
I just reach out and pick her up saying, "NO! You are going outside and going potty right now!".
She goes out, does her stuff, comes back in, back on the bed snuggling with hubby in no time flat.
Hubby cuddles her.
I lay down and watch TV for a bit, O'Rielly is going to be on for his second go around, it's almost 11 o'clock.
As I am ready to drift off, hubby says. " This little dog has just made me love all animals."
"Okay honey" I think. The gentler softer side is coming out, nothing like a good Cabernet to make you feel all warm and gooey.
I watch Greta say goodnight and turn it over to Bill.
"Even squirrels" he says
"What? What did you say?" I ask
"I said she has changed my mind even about squirrels. I don't want to squish them anymore"
Okay, let me explain. He didn't really want to squish squirrels per se...just shock them a bit.
It all stems from a rather pesky rodent that outwitted every manufacturer of squirrel-proof bird feeders.
Hubby tried funnels on the poles that held up the bird feeders. Rocky the squirrel would bypass the whole funnel road block by finding a bush or tree limb that he could use to jump over to the feeder. Hubby sawed off tree limbs, it sounded like we were filming "Texas Chainsaw Massacre" in our backyard. No tree limbs? That didn't bother Rocky. He just climbed higher on the tree and then sailed down, like a flying southern squirrel. Can you see his goggles as you read this??
Hubby tried those bird feeders that flip over when a squirrel climbs on it. Somehow Rocky figured out how to stay underneath and get to the seed, while a squirrel cousin flipped it over.
We would see him scaling the fence heading for our feeders and hubby would jump up out of his chair and yell, "Here he comes!".
It was like a war zone.
The kids pooled their money on Father's Day and bought him a zapping bird feeder; it was supposed to deliver a small but effective electrical shock to squirrels. They had seen it at a local bird and seed store and knew that was the ticket for Dad.
Hubby assembles it, and gets the battery in and hangs it up. The theory is that a bird is small enough to land on the perch and can get to the seed without getting zapped. The squirrel on the other hand is too big for the perch and will also have to be on a metal plate and when he touches the metal plate and the perch --- ZAP! He gets a good jolt.
We lie in wait for Rocky.
Nothing.
The next day we wait for him.
Nothing.
Wait! Here he comes scampering down the fence rail.
He comes to the new feeder.
He looks at it, watching the birds.
He must be thinking "What have they come up with now?"
He approaches it.
We start getting excited.
This is finally it! Our birds will eat in peace! No more squirrels stealing all the seeds!
Rocky gets on the plate, NEVER TOUCHING THE PERCH, eats his fill and scampers off.
So you see... it is an amazing thing that Bailie has done. Hubby feels compassionate to all animals now.
Even the squirrels.
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Radar Man
So today all the kids came over to go swimming.
It was hot and muggy, and truthfully, all I could think about during church was floating on my new floaty in the pool. So much for focusing on the homily.
Kids all arrive and we eat first, (this family has its priorities). After lunch, we get ready for some water volleyball and then we hear it.... sirens going off.
EEEEEEEEEYAAAA EEEEEEEYAAAA
We live next to a golf course and the hole closest to us has one of the lightning sirens. If lightening strikes within 5 miles from us, it sounds. Gives us plenty of time to get out of the water before getting fried like pot stickers, or some sort of fried meat.
Hubby goes into his office to emerge with a proclamation, "It will be over in 18 minutes." It is 1:22 , so we figure he calculated when it would pass over us.
He goes back inside and time passes, kids are shooting the breeze, eating dessert now.
1:40 comes and it's still raining. It looks like it is getting worse.
Youngest daughter goes inside to ask him what's going on. "Isn't it supposed to be clear by now?" she wonders aloud.
His reply is that a small cell has sprung up but give it 5, maybe 10 minutes, and we will be happily splashing.
So we wait it out.
Outside.
Under umbrellas, in the pool house, and under towels.
Then it hits.
HAIL.
Where did this come from???
It's bouncing off the tables and chairs. I am scared to come out from under the big umbrella. Someone could get hurt out there. The kids under towels and around the table make a dash for the pool house. Youngest granddaughter screams.
"What's happening???" she wails.
Youngest daughter is inside. Apparently she is asking her dad for a weather update because she comes back to the door and yells out into the hail storm, "He says it will pass over in a few minutes."
Do you think we felt comfortable with that prediction?
Where is he anyway? Why isn't HE out here if it is almost over?
The hail is getting worse. I need to either dash to the already full pool house, or inside. Can't do it, one could get cut out there. Cut bad.
It finally dies down. Granddaughter runs inside and says "I'm not coming out! I'm going to play with my kitty cats." Smart kid.
The pool house crowd is safe and happy. There's a bathroom and a beer fridge in there. And did I mention it has A/C?
It slows to a drizzle and I head inside. Where is he? He is by the computer and I ask him "So when is it going to stop raining?"
He shakes his head and says, "In about 8 minutes. This should be the last cell going over us right now. They just kept popping up."
hmmm It does seem calmer out there.
But then again...
I dry off and go lay down and read for awhile.
The rain starts up again, it's pounding. The kids are all inside by now. They are watching "Hairspray" on TV.
It still is raining.
Finally everyone starts to go home. The day is a washout. Literally.
Hubby says " If y'all can wait a few more minutes this should pass right over us."
They keep on trudging to their cars. Good bye waves, kisses, and hugs are exchanged.
They all leave except for a few who are waiting on youngest granddaughter who doesn't want to go.
"Papa said it's going to stop" she cries. " I want to stay and play in the pool with Papa!"
I look at her and say "Come on, let's get you dressed so you can go home."
Where is hubby???
He is outside.
In the pool.
Sun is shining.
Birds are chirping.
It's hot and after rain muggy.
He yells out "Come on in! I told you it was going to blow over."
Youngest granddaughter yelps in glee and looks at me and says "See??? Papa is always right!"
I suppose so.
Even a stopped clock is right twice a day.
It was hot and muggy, and truthfully, all I could think about during church was floating on my new floaty in the pool. So much for focusing on the homily.
Kids all arrive and we eat first, (this family has its priorities). After lunch, we get ready for some water volleyball and then we hear it.... sirens going off.
EEEEEEEEEYAAAA EEEEEEEYAAAA
We live next to a golf course and the hole closest to us has one of the lightning sirens. If lightening strikes within 5 miles from us, it sounds. Gives us plenty of time to get out of the water before getting fried like pot stickers, or some sort of fried meat.
Hubby goes into his office to emerge with a proclamation, "It will be over in 18 minutes." It is 1:22 , so we figure he calculated when it would pass over us.
He goes back inside and time passes, kids are shooting the breeze, eating dessert now.
1:40 comes and it's still raining. It looks like it is getting worse.
Youngest daughter goes inside to ask him what's going on. "Isn't it supposed to be clear by now?" she wonders aloud.
His reply is that a small cell has sprung up but give it 5, maybe 10 minutes, and we will be happily splashing.
So we wait it out.
Outside.
Under umbrellas, in the pool house, and under towels.
Then it hits.
HAIL.
Where did this come from???
It's bouncing off the tables and chairs. I am scared to come out from under the big umbrella. Someone could get hurt out there. The kids under towels and around the table make a dash for the pool house. Youngest granddaughter screams.
"What's happening???" she wails.
Youngest daughter is inside. Apparently she is asking her dad for a weather update because she comes back to the door and yells out into the hail storm, "He says it will pass over in a few minutes."
Do you think we felt comfortable with that prediction?
Where is he anyway? Why isn't HE out here if it is almost over?
The hail is getting worse. I need to either dash to the already full pool house, or inside. Can't do it, one could get cut out there. Cut bad.
It finally dies down. Granddaughter runs inside and says "I'm not coming out! I'm going to play with my kitty cats." Smart kid.
The pool house crowd is safe and happy. There's a bathroom and a beer fridge in there. And did I mention it has A/C?
It slows to a drizzle and I head inside. Where is he? He is by the computer and I ask him "So when is it going to stop raining?"
He shakes his head and says, "In about 8 minutes. This should be the last cell going over us right now. They just kept popping up."
hmmm It does seem calmer out there.
But then again...
I dry off and go lay down and read for awhile.
The rain starts up again, it's pounding. The kids are all inside by now. They are watching "Hairspray" on TV.
It still is raining.
Finally everyone starts to go home. The day is a washout. Literally.
Hubby says " If y'all can wait a few more minutes this should pass right over us."
They keep on trudging to their cars. Good bye waves, kisses, and hugs are exchanged.
They all leave except for a few who are waiting on youngest granddaughter who doesn't want to go.
"Papa said it's going to stop" she cries. " I want to stay and play in the pool with Papa!"
I look at her and say "Come on, let's get you dressed so you can go home."
Where is hubby???
He is outside.
In the pool.
Sun is shining.
Birds are chirping.
It's hot and after rain muggy.
He yells out "Come on in! I told you it was going to blow over."
Youngest granddaughter yelps in glee and looks at me and says "See??? Papa is always right!"
I suppose so.
Even a stopped clock is right twice a day.
Wednesday, June 18, 2008
The Wonderful Power of Chili
Last night we went over a friend's house for dinner. I was looking forward to it because anything she makes is always fabulous.
She had made a white bean chili with andouille sausage and chunks of chicken simmered in the crock pot. Delish.
Whenever we eat chili with friends that possibly might have not heard the story, hubby tells the tale of the stripper and the chili.
I always find it amazing that he even remembers that evening, apparently it made quite the impression.
It goes like this....
When we were first married, within the first year, he was invited to a bachelor's party. He says I didn't know the guy that invited him well enough to have made a judgement call on what kind of event it was going to be, oh but I surely did.
This guy was an idiot.
He went around TELLING people he was going to have a "first-rate" party with strippers and everything. (who knows what the "everything" referred to!).
Well my poor innocent little hubby didn't need to go to something like that and I distinctly remember asking him to politely decline the invite.
I am sure it was because he didn't want to hurt this fellow's feelings that he refused.
Or else he was trying to establish his dominance early on in the marriage.
Something like that anyway.
"Okay" I thought.
"Fine" I thought.
"Whatever" I thought.
"Oh he'll go alright" I muttered.
So, for dinner the night of the party, I cooked for him. How can you go to a party where there most likely will be alcohol without any food in your tummy? You could get sick right? I made a big ole pot of chili. Spicy chili. Lots of beans. Lots of spices. Toss in some onions. Add some green peppers. He ate a bowlful, then another. I sat back and smiled, from the joy of seeing him enjoying the fruit of my labors, I am sure.
He goes to the party.
He comes home a couple of hours later, before the "entertainment" starts.
His stomach hurts.
He rushes to the bathroom.
"I shouldn't have eaten all that chili!" he wails.
I smile.
I hear baked beans are a blast.
She had made a white bean chili with andouille sausage and chunks of chicken simmered in the crock pot. Delish.
Whenever we eat chili with friends that possibly might have not heard the story, hubby tells the tale of the stripper and the chili.
I always find it amazing that he even remembers that evening, apparently it made quite the impression.
It goes like this....
When we were first married, within the first year, he was invited to a bachelor's party. He says I didn't know the guy that invited him well enough to have made a judgement call on what kind of event it was going to be, oh but I surely did.
This guy was an idiot.
He went around TELLING people he was going to have a "first-rate" party with strippers and everything. (who knows what the "everything" referred to!).
Well my poor innocent little hubby didn't need to go to something like that and I distinctly remember asking him to politely decline the invite.
I am sure it was because he didn't want to hurt this fellow's feelings that he refused.
Or else he was trying to establish his dominance early on in the marriage.
Something like that anyway.
"Okay" I thought.
"Fine" I thought.
"Whatever" I thought.
"Oh he'll go alright" I muttered.
So, for dinner the night of the party, I cooked for him. How can you go to a party where there most likely will be alcohol without any food in your tummy? You could get sick right? I made a big ole pot of chili. Spicy chili. Lots of beans. Lots of spices. Toss in some onions. Add some green peppers. He ate a bowlful, then another. I sat back and smiled, from the joy of seeing him enjoying the fruit of my labors, I am sure.
He goes to the party.
He comes home a couple of hours later, before the "entertainment" starts.
His stomach hurts.
He rushes to the bathroom.
"I shouldn't have eaten all that chili!" he wails.
I smile.
I hear baked beans are a blast.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
This Line is Shorter
So we go to Sam's yesterday. That conjures up a picture in your head without typing another word; long lines, crowded aisles, people who don't have their sh*t together when it is time to pay, or people whose cell phone rings as they are being checked out and they answer it! ARGHHHH
One day I may get shot. Or beat up. I swear I am going to let someone hold it for being so blasted rude to others. It just seems it's an "all about me" or an "I'm more important than everyone else in the world" mentality.
We go to Sam's because they have chaise lounges for our patio at a good price. We already have a row of lounge chairs out there for when all our kids come over, and yet hubby wants more. I get it, but am thankful they are stack able. It's beginning to really look like a resort, more than a backyard.
Hubby had to get a flatbed to cart the chairs around the store. You should have seen him taking the corners, he almost took out a few folks.
We get everything we need, and more, and head over to the line. Every line had more than three people in it except one, it had only two. One lady was paying and another lady, though her cart was full, looked alert. It's really important you get behind an alert person at Sam's or you could be there all day. Hubby wanted the line over from this line, I said "No, let's get in line over here" motioning to the shorter line.
He maneuvers the flatbed over a line.
The lady that is checking out? Well she gets her receipt then starts questioning some of the prices.
The other line edges forward.
The cashier calls for a manager. Everyone waits.
The other line edges forward.
The manager comes over and discusses it with the lady. Lady leaves, next person in line please.
The alert lady, who has a full cart, starts being checked out, her phone rings and she doesn't help the cashier move her items over.
The other line edges up. We would have been being checked out by this time if we had been in the other line.
Finally, all the items are scanned, and it's time to pay. What's this? She pulls out a checkbook!
She writes the check.
The other line moves forward, we would have been walking to our car by now.
The cashier calls for a manager.
"What's the holdup?" asks the ex-alert lady.
"We have to call for manager approval for anything over $300." replies the cashier.
"For goodness sake! Why didn't you tell me that?" ex-alert lady exclaims.
We wait for a manager.
The line next to us has new people that we didn't see in the store whizzing through the check out now. I purposefully try to not meet hubby's gaze. But it's like a magnet, it just snaps my head around and I look at him. He's smiling. He doesn't have to say a thing. And thank goodness he doesn't.
The ex-alert lady now decides to pay for her purchase with a credit card. Whatever. Just move on out of here lady.
We finally get up there, we are in and out in a couple of minutes. Our Sam's card is out, our debit card is out, no problems.
Next time he's picking the line.
One day I may get shot. Or beat up. I swear I am going to let someone hold it for being so blasted rude to others. It just seems it's an "all about me" or an "I'm more important than everyone else in the world" mentality.
We go to Sam's because they have chaise lounges for our patio at a good price. We already have a row of lounge chairs out there for when all our kids come over, and yet hubby wants more. I get it, but am thankful they are stack able. It's beginning to really look like a resort, more than a backyard.
Hubby had to get a flatbed to cart the chairs around the store. You should have seen him taking the corners, he almost took out a few folks.
We get everything we need, and more, and head over to the line. Every line had more than three people in it except one, it had only two. One lady was paying and another lady, though her cart was full, looked alert. It's really important you get behind an alert person at Sam's or you could be there all day. Hubby wanted the line over from this line, I said "No, let's get in line over here" motioning to the shorter line.
He maneuvers the flatbed over a line.
The lady that is checking out? Well she gets her receipt then starts questioning some of the prices.
The other line edges forward.
The cashier calls for a manager. Everyone waits.
The other line edges forward.
The manager comes over and discusses it with the lady. Lady leaves, next person in line please.
The alert lady, who has a full cart, starts being checked out, her phone rings and she doesn't help the cashier move her items over.
The other line edges up. We would have been being checked out by this time if we had been in the other line.
Finally, all the items are scanned, and it's time to pay. What's this? She pulls out a checkbook!
She writes the check.
The other line moves forward, we would have been walking to our car by now.
The cashier calls for a manager.
"What's the holdup?" asks the ex-alert lady.
"We have to call for manager approval for anything over $300." replies the cashier.
"For goodness sake! Why didn't you tell me that?" ex-alert lady exclaims.
We wait for a manager.
The line next to us has new people that we didn't see in the store whizzing through the check out now. I purposefully try to not meet hubby's gaze. But it's like a magnet, it just snaps my head around and I look at him. He's smiling. He doesn't have to say a thing. And thank goodness he doesn't.
The ex-alert lady now decides to pay for her purchase with a credit card. Whatever. Just move on out of here lady.
We finally get up there, we are in and out in a couple of minutes. Our Sam's card is out, our debit card is out, no problems.
Next time he's picking the line.
Friday, June 13, 2008
It's Only My Hair (aka where my granddaughter gets it from)
Today was my hair appointment.
Love my hairdresser, love her work, been going to the same salon for three years, so why do I feel the need to reintroduce my hair to her at every visit?
“I’d like it short, but not too short, more than a trim, but I don’t want someone to think it’s been cut, more like it’s neater” I say.
“Okay, got it.” She says “You still like the color?”
“Yes, it’s great. But do you think you can add more blonde here?” I say pointing to my sides.
“Sure I can” she patiently replies.
“How about a bit more lowlights here” as I point to the front.
“Sure, but I thought you liked the color?” she asks.
“Oh I do! I just thought maybe it needed a little something different.”
“Alright, well let’s get started” she replies.
I sit there reading quietly as she adds foil to my head. I swear I am tuning into a radio station because I can faintly hear “La Bamba”.
When all the foils are in, another lady leads me back to “the bowls” depositing me in the capable hands of the bowl girl.
Hair glosser is applied, a plastic bag covers my hair and ears.
“Cajun shrimp?” I hear a voice ask me.
“Excuse me?” I ask. Is someone taking my lunch order?
“Cajun shrimp?” I realize it’s the lady sitting next to me.
“Cajun shrimp?” She asks again, motioning toward my toes.
“Oh! Yes, it’s Cajun Shrimp by OPI.”
“Thought so. Me too” pointing at her toes.
The bowl girl comes back to rinse the glosser.
Now for the chemical treatment that is supposed to soften your hair and even has sunscreen in it.
An hour later, yes ONE HOUR LATER, I am led back to the chair for the cut. This has been a very productive reading session, I’ve made it through at least 80 or 90 pages of my book.
I sit down at my hairdresser’s station with my wet just been glossed and chemed hair. My hairdresser comes back and pulls a comb out of a drawer.
“I part my hair over here.” I helpfully say.
“Same as before?” she replies
Hmmmmmmm…. I think. Do I detect a tone?
“I like a bit of a bang but not too much”.
“Okay” snipping away.
I don’t think she heard me, but she does have scissors in her hand and it's near lunch time, maybe she’s hungry.
The blow dryer goes on and there is no way I can hear her or vice versa.
She’s done, she fluffs, and snips a bit more, and this time she’s really done.
It’s perfect!
She knows me so well!
Love my hairdresser, love her work, been going to the same salon for three years, so why do I feel the need to reintroduce my hair to her at every visit?
“I’d like it short, but not too short, more than a trim, but I don’t want someone to think it’s been cut, more like it’s neater” I say.
“Okay, got it.” She says “You still like the color?”
“Yes, it’s great. But do you think you can add more blonde here?” I say pointing to my sides.
“Sure I can” she patiently replies.
“How about a bit more lowlights here” as I point to the front.
“Sure, but I thought you liked the color?” she asks.
“Oh I do! I just thought maybe it needed a little something different.”
“Alright, well let’s get started” she replies.
I sit there reading quietly as she adds foil to my head. I swear I am tuning into a radio station because I can faintly hear “La Bamba”.
When all the foils are in, another lady leads me back to “the bowls” depositing me in the capable hands of the bowl girl.
Hair glosser is applied, a plastic bag covers my hair and ears.
“Cajun shrimp?” I hear a voice ask me.
“Excuse me?” I ask. Is someone taking my lunch order?
“Cajun shrimp?” I realize it’s the lady sitting next to me.
“Cajun shrimp?” She asks again, motioning toward my toes.
“Oh! Yes, it’s Cajun Shrimp by OPI.”
“Thought so. Me too” pointing at her toes.
The bowl girl comes back to rinse the glosser.
Now for the chemical treatment that is supposed to soften your hair and even has sunscreen in it.
An hour later, yes ONE HOUR LATER, I am led back to the chair for the cut. This has been a very productive reading session, I’ve made it through at least 80 or 90 pages of my book.
I sit down at my hairdresser’s station with my wet just been glossed and chemed hair. My hairdresser comes back and pulls a comb out of a drawer.
“I part my hair over here.” I helpfully say.
“Same as before?” she replies
Hmmmmmmm…. I think. Do I detect a tone?
“I like a bit of a bang but not too much”.
“Okay” snipping away.
I don’t think she heard me, but she does have scissors in her hand and it's near lunch time, maybe she’s hungry.
The blow dryer goes on and there is no way I can hear her or vice versa.
She’s done, she fluffs, and snips a bit more, and this time she’s really done.
It’s perfect!
She knows me so well!
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Happy To See Me?
This morning I met a girlfriend for coffee at Earth Fare. We are both coffee addicts, even get the shakes when we don't drink several cups before 9 AM.
She has this Topsy Turvy contraption she wants to use. It's the thing that's advertised on TV where you can grow tomatoes upside down.
Outside of Earth Fare, they have several different type of plants for sale. Everything from flowers to herbs to vegetables. The tomato plants were at least a foot and a half tall and had tomatoes already growing on the vine.
She stoops down and starts looking at the plants. Out of maybe a dozen, she picks the perfect one. As she gets ready to walk in the store with it, I notice something, uhmmmm a little odd about this particular plant and mention it to her.
"Did you see the tomato?"
"Yes, it's nice." She replies.
"But did you look at the tomato?" I insist.
"Yes it'll be perfect in my Topsy Turvy."
"Look at it! It has a tomato penis."
"What???" she exclaims.
" A penis. It has a tomato penis."
She looks at it and this huge grin comes across her face.
It's a boy!!!!
She has this Topsy Turvy contraption she wants to use. It's the thing that's advertised on TV where you can grow tomatoes upside down.
Outside of Earth Fare, they have several different type of plants for sale. Everything from flowers to herbs to vegetables. The tomato plants were at least a foot and a half tall and had tomatoes already growing on the vine.
She stoops down and starts looking at the plants. Out of maybe a dozen, she picks the perfect one. As she gets ready to walk in the store with it, I notice something, uhmmmm a little odd about this particular plant and mention it to her.
"Did you see the tomato?"
"Yes, it's nice." She replies.
"But did you look at the tomato?" I insist.
"Yes it'll be perfect in my Topsy Turvy."
"Look at it! It has a tomato penis."
"What???" she exclaims.
" A penis. It has a tomato penis."
She looks at it and this huge grin comes across her face.
It's a boy!!!!
Wednesday, June 11, 2008
What Have You Done For Me Lately
After 20 years with Hubby we know all the steps to our word dances.
This morning I was outside cleaning up the pool area, rearranging things, mopping the floor in the pool house, and looking at everything through “what needs to be cleaned next?” glasses.
The patio deck is a little darker in some places, notably under the planters and table. A good pressure washing is in order. I could call someone to come and pressure wash the deck but why? We own a pressure washer, Hubby can clean it can’t he?
Hubby was outside performing a “catch and release” on a turtle that had somehow got trapped in our skimmer so what better time to bring up pressure washing?
“Honey, the patio is in need of a good cleaning. Could you pressure wash it?”
He replied, “Sure honey, I could.”
“Okay, when?”
“I said I could, I didn’t say I would.”
Suddenly I get it, visions of trading shells and animal hides swirl in my head.
“Okay, would you do it?”
“Sure, I would, we can work something out,”
“Okay, for what?”
“Well I would like to play golf on Saturday and Sunday”.
Now he already plays golf on Sunday. We are really only talking about Saturday. And plus he plays with a group of guys that tee off at the crack of dawn.
Upside: 1.) He gets exercise, 2.) I get to sleep in, 3.) The deck is pressured washed
Where’s the downside?
“Okay honey, that’s fine” I sigh.
He walks away pleased with his bartering skills.
GOTCHA!
This morning I was outside cleaning up the pool area, rearranging things, mopping the floor in the pool house, and looking at everything through “what needs to be cleaned next?” glasses.
The patio deck is a little darker in some places, notably under the planters and table. A good pressure washing is in order. I could call someone to come and pressure wash the deck but why? We own a pressure washer, Hubby can clean it can’t he?
Hubby was outside performing a “catch and release” on a turtle that had somehow got trapped in our skimmer so what better time to bring up pressure washing?
“Honey, the patio is in need of a good cleaning. Could you pressure wash it?”
He replied, “Sure honey, I could.”
“Okay, when?”
“I said I could, I didn’t say I would.”
Suddenly I get it, visions of trading shells and animal hides swirl in my head.
“Okay, would you do it?”
“Sure, I would, we can work something out,”
“Okay, for what?”
“Well I would like to play golf on Saturday and Sunday”.
Now he already plays golf on Sunday. We are really only talking about Saturday. And plus he plays with a group of guys that tee off at the crack of dawn.
Upside: 1.) He gets exercise, 2.) I get to sleep in, 3.) The deck is pressured washed
Where’s the downside?
“Okay honey, that’s fine” I sigh.
He walks away pleased with his bartering skills.
GOTCHA!
Tuesday, June 10, 2008
Who's Walking Who?
So I go out to dinner with friends tonight. It was so hot today when you walked outside your skin blistered. All I could muster an appetite for was salad. And wine. It's never too hot not to have wine.
Oh, I was proud of myself tonight. I ordered off the menu. As is. Yes that's right, as is. My usual order goes something like "I'd like the steak with the green beans. But hold the green beans and give me the spinach instead. And instead of steak, make it a chicken breast. Oh, and the bread, can you toast it?" Hubby just rolls his eyes and my girlfriends laugh yet probably roll their eyes too when I look away.
Hubby took our youngest daughter out tonight for dinner. Her first week on her own and we are her dinner plan$ all week. Smart girl.
I get home and he is busy at his desk and I see that he is using the online banking. Fun, fun, fun. I just keep on walking. Don't want to open myself up for questions in that realm.
"Has the dog been out?" I ask.
"Nope"
"Okay, I'll take her out"
She hasn't been out for a few hours and I KNOW she has to go. We go outside and she sits and stares at me. She's not moving.
"Bailie, go potty" I plead.
Nothing. She doesn't even look at me. What the heck?
I did it to myself. I got her used to going on a walk to do her "duty". The week at the beach has given the neighbor's yard a break and I really didn't want to start that up again.
I pick her up and move her to the pine straw.
"Go Potty" I forcefully urge.
Nothing. Unless you count a baleful stare.
Well for gosh sakes. I can't go to bed when I know she has business to do.
"Want to go for a walk?"
She jumps up and all 6 pounds run to the door.
On goes the harness and leash, I grab the blue potty bag as she leads me out the door.
Somehow I am able to get her to walk on the other side of the road. Three houses down - success. And not even on the car dealer's yard!
She immediately turns and heads back home.
How picky. It's like she has to go to a CVS or something.
I think hubby thinks I am not on to him and his tricks. He is watching "Deadliest Catch". There is alot of "Look at that!" and "Jesus!" exclamations coming from the front room.
A few minutes ago I heard " Man! Oh Man! How lucky that guy is!" I walked over there and asked him who was lucky. Apparently he saw some commercial with a level with bubbles. I don't get it. He has a level, one with a laser. And it's not like I am going to let him use it anyhow. He and I have an understanding about hanging stuff up, I have to be almost in another state before he can hang pictures or shelves. Unfair you say? An over reaction? Well c'mon over and look at the "first try" holes under the shelves. It's better when middle son hangs up stuff for us.
Hey.. maybe I'll get him the bubble level!
Oh, I was proud of myself tonight. I ordered off the menu. As is. Yes that's right, as is. My usual order goes something like "I'd like the steak with the green beans. But hold the green beans and give me the spinach instead. And instead of steak, make it a chicken breast. Oh, and the bread, can you toast it?" Hubby just rolls his eyes and my girlfriends laugh yet probably roll their eyes too when I look away.
Hubby took our youngest daughter out tonight for dinner. Her first week on her own and we are her dinner plan$ all week. Smart girl.
I get home and he is busy at his desk and I see that he is using the online banking. Fun, fun, fun. I just keep on walking. Don't want to open myself up for questions in that realm.
"Has the dog been out?" I ask.
"Nope"
"Okay, I'll take her out"
She hasn't been out for a few hours and I KNOW she has to go. We go outside and she sits and stares at me. She's not moving.
"Bailie, go potty" I plead.
Nothing. She doesn't even look at me. What the heck?
I did it to myself. I got her used to going on a walk to do her "duty". The week at the beach has given the neighbor's yard a break and I really didn't want to start that up again.
I pick her up and move her to the pine straw.
"Go Potty" I forcefully urge.
Nothing. Unless you count a baleful stare.
Well for gosh sakes. I can't go to bed when I know she has business to do.
"Want to go for a walk?"
She jumps up and all 6 pounds run to the door.
On goes the harness and leash, I grab the blue potty bag as she leads me out the door.
Somehow I am able to get her to walk on the other side of the road. Three houses down - success. And not even on the car dealer's yard!
She immediately turns and heads back home.
How picky. It's like she has to go to a CVS or something.
I think hubby thinks I am not on to him and his tricks. He is watching "Deadliest Catch". There is alot of "Look at that!" and "Jesus!" exclamations coming from the front room.
A few minutes ago I heard " Man! Oh Man! How lucky that guy is!" I walked over there and asked him who was lucky. Apparently he saw some commercial with a level with bubbles. I don't get it. He has a level, one with a laser. And it's not like I am going to let him use it anyhow. He and I have an understanding about hanging stuff up, I have to be almost in another state before he can hang pictures or shelves. Unfair you say? An over reaction? Well c'mon over and look at the "first try" holes under the shelves. It's better when middle son hangs up stuff for us.
Hey.. maybe I'll get him the bubble level!
Monday, June 9, 2008
Show Me Where it Hurts
Today was my appointment to find out the results of the MRI.
My preference is to have my appointment as early in the morning as possible. You get up, take a shower, go to the doctor. No stopping in between to jog a few laps or weed the garden.
Clean is good.
I get there early and they move me right through the series of waiting rooms. It's never just one main waiting room, you have to check in and given the all clear to proceed to the inner sanctum, the second waiting room.
Once there, I barely read a couple of pages in my book when the nurse calls me to the back. I felt pretty good this morning, my back wasn't hurting and I felt happy. I'm a morning person, a happy as a clam morning person.
I sprung up and was heading toward the nurse when I noticed the only other person in the room, a lady around 70 or so with a back brace, looking at me. Her eyes were saying "What are YOU doing here?" My steps slowed down, I developed a limp, I think I groaned a bit.
I get back in the room and am reminded that not only will I get my MRI results, but have a nerve test conducted. Okey dokey.
The doctor comes in. Every time I look at him I want to card him. He looks so young yet there is a certificate on the wall that claims that he is a Doctor of Osteopathy.
He review the MRI with me. I have a small bulge between my S1 and L5. He emphasizes "small". The nerve test consists of a computer hooked up to electrodes. I swear that's what it looked like to me. He tells me "I am going to stimulate the muscle with electrical impulses first and then test the nerve". He starts fiddling with his cords and pads and I say "How are you going to test the nerve?"
"Stick a mumble in it".
"What? Pardon?"
"Stick a needle in it."
"What kind of needle? An acupuncture needle?"
"Yes, a needle similar to that."
Okay - he's the doctor, but I still brace myself.
The electrical muscle test stuff went fine. Kinda weird watching your muscles shake or jerk without you doing a thing. I was entertained.
Then the nerve test.
So I'm laying there. He says "POKE" and jabs a needle near my ankle.
"Hey!!! That hurts" I yell out, startled to say the least.
He ignores me.
"POKE" he shouts
"Wait a minute, that hurts!"
He pauses and says "It feels like an ache right?"
It takes a second to review that in my mind.
"Just so you know, it's not an ache, it feels like you are smashing down on a new bruise."
He continues.
For some, apparently masochistic, reason, I still like this guy.
He finishes with the front and I turn over. After the shocks, he says, "Okay I am done shocking you, now turn over for the poking."
Okay - he said it.
I didn't.
I could let it go.
But I don't.
My leg is smarting. I'm a bit peeved about that.
"Well you must be real fun on a date." I say, chuckling.
"Oh I don't take my kit with me when I go on dates" he replies.
Touche Doc.
My preference is to have my appointment as early in the morning as possible. You get up, take a shower, go to the doctor. No stopping in between to jog a few laps or weed the garden.
Clean is good.
I get there early and they move me right through the series of waiting rooms. It's never just one main waiting room, you have to check in and given the all clear to proceed to the inner sanctum, the second waiting room.
Once there, I barely read a couple of pages in my book when the nurse calls me to the back. I felt pretty good this morning, my back wasn't hurting and I felt happy. I'm a morning person, a happy as a clam morning person.
I sprung up and was heading toward the nurse when I noticed the only other person in the room, a lady around 70 or so with a back brace, looking at me. Her eyes were saying "What are YOU doing here?" My steps slowed down, I developed a limp, I think I groaned a bit.
I get back in the room and am reminded that not only will I get my MRI results, but have a nerve test conducted. Okey dokey.
The doctor comes in. Every time I look at him I want to card him. He looks so young yet there is a certificate on the wall that claims that he is a Doctor of Osteopathy.
He review the MRI with me. I have a small bulge between my S1 and L5. He emphasizes "small". The nerve test consists of a computer hooked up to electrodes. I swear that's what it looked like to me. He tells me "I am going to stimulate the muscle with electrical impulses first and then test the nerve". He starts fiddling with his cords and pads and I say "How are you going to test the nerve?"
"Stick a mumble in it".
"What? Pardon?"
"Stick a needle in it."
"What kind of needle? An acupuncture needle?"
"Yes, a needle similar to that."
Okay - he's the doctor, but I still brace myself.
The electrical muscle test stuff went fine. Kinda weird watching your muscles shake or jerk without you doing a thing. I was entertained.
Then the nerve test.
So I'm laying there. He says "POKE" and jabs a needle near my ankle.
"Hey!!! That hurts" I yell out, startled to say the least.
He ignores me.
"POKE" he shouts
"Wait a minute, that hurts!"
He pauses and says "It feels like an ache right?"
"What do you mean "right"? Haven't you ever had this done?"
It takes a second to review that in my mind.
"Just so you know, it's not an ache, it feels like you are smashing down on a new bruise."
He continues.
For some, apparently masochistic, reason, I still like this guy.
He finishes with the front and I turn over. After the shocks, he says, "Okay I am done shocking you, now turn over for the poking."
Okay - he said it.
I didn't.
I could let it go.
But I don't.
My leg is smarting. I'm a bit peeved about that.
"Well you must be real fun on a date." I say, chuckling.
"Oh I don't take my kit with me when I go on dates" he replies.
Touche Doc.
Sunday, June 8, 2008
A Day of Rest
Not much happened today.
Hubby played golf this morning and I played hookey from Church. Being Catholic , I felt guilty about not going. I'm over it now though.
I needed a morning to myself. No one here, no one calling me, just all by myself.
HA HA HA ---that's what I thought I wanted.
There wasn't any food in the house, for I had planned on going today to Earth Fare.
Thank goodness for oatmeal you can make with water, and Weight Watchers cream cheese that keeps an unusually long time which was perfect on my mini wheat bagel.
Hopped in the shower, and was able to get to Earth Fare as they were opening at 9. It took me an hour to shop; I get mesmerized by all the organic offerings. Everything sounds either healthy or fancy. A pretty label and well crafted name can part me from my money. Jalapeno hummus, butternut risotto, and mushroom sage steak sauce, jumped in my cart. We are going to have some creative dinners this week.
As I am unpacking the groceries, youngest daughter called. She is moving out this weekend to her own place, last night was her first night in her new digs so this morning I really had the house to myself (or so I thought).
She wanted to let me know she, and middle daughter, and middle daughter's boy friend, were on their way over to pick up another load of stuff. Middle son was on his way over with his pickup to help move the big furniture. Within minutes the house was full again.
Do you cringe like I do when anyone, but especially your family, moves furniture up or down the stairs? To say it worries me is an understatement . It drives me nutty. " The walls! Watch out for the walls!" I will cry out. And it's mandatory to cover everything with blankets or quilts just in case something touches a wall and chips the paint.
This morning I decided to give them all a gift, no looney bossy paint chip fearing mom. A nice tall glass of iced tea, a lounge chair OUTSIDE, and a phone call to one of my best friends kept me away from the action.
And even without my nagging, the walls came away unscathed.
They left, and about an hour later hubby comes home from golf ready for lunch. After a turkey sandwich and cantaloupe, I start getting antsy.
Yep, I did, I went over to visit her. It was quiet around here, he was watching golf, and the little white dog was laying on her pillow not moving a muscle unless someone yelled "treat!"
They were all there, middle son hanging up pictures for her. And oldest daughter was on her way over to go with her to Sam's to buy frozen chicken breasts and laundry soap. You're growing up when you want to spend your afternoon at Sam's.
To say I had a glimpse of a life without me around would be accurate.
They'd be okay. Their "issues", I saw this past week while on vacation, are really my issues.
They are able to work things out when I give them a chance and not try to make them do it my way which must be the better way because it's my way. I'm learning to let go I suppose.
When I got home to hubby, we looked at each other wandering what to do next. Okay, we did have the house to ourselves.
A little while later we looked at each other wondering what to do next.
We ordered the uncut version of "American Gangster" with Denzel Washington. Do you know that it is 175 minutes? THREE HOURS! We paused it several times, even paused it while I made dinner. Watching it in a movie theatre would have done a number on my bladder.
The pool looked inviting after dinner so I jumped in for a float. On a floaty. I'm not a swimmer but I sure can use a float, kicking just enough to keep me from bumping into the walls.
Hmmm--- it's kinda quiet around here...
Maybe I'll grill some burgers tomorrow night and invite the kids over for dinner.
Hubby played golf this morning and I played hookey from Church. Being Catholic , I felt guilty about not going. I'm over it now though.
I needed a morning to myself. No one here, no one calling me, just all by myself.
HA HA HA ---that's what I thought I wanted.
There wasn't any food in the house, for I had planned on going today to Earth Fare.
Thank goodness for oatmeal you can make with water, and Weight Watchers cream cheese that keeps an unusually long time which was perfect on my mini wheat bagel.
Hopped in the shower, and was able to get to Earth Fare as they were opening at 9. It took me an hour to shop; I get mesmerized by all the organic offerings. Everything sounds either healthy or fancy. A pretty label and well crafted name can part me from my money. Jalapeno hummus, butternut risotto, and mushroom sage steak sauce, jumped in my cart. We are going to have some creative dinners this week.
As I am unpacking the groceries, youngest daughter called. She is moving out this weekend to her own place, last night was her first night in her new digs so this morning I really had the house to myself (or so I thought).
She wanted to let me know she, and middle daughter, and middle daughter's boy friend, were on their way over to pick up another load of stuff. Middle son was on his way over with his pickup to help move the big furniture. Within minutes the house was full again.
Do you cringe like I do when anyone, but especially your family, moves furniture up or down the stairs? To say it worries me is an understatement . It drives me nutty. " The walls! Watch out for the walls!" I will cry out. And it's mandatory to cover everything with blankets or quilts just in case something touches a wall and chips the paint.
This morning I decided to give them all a gift, no looney bossy paint chip fearing mom. A nice tall glass of iced tea, a lounge chair OUTSIDE, and a phone call to one of my best friends kept me away from the action.
And even without my nagging, the walls came away unscathed.
They left, and about an hour later hubby comes home from golf ready for lunch. After a turkey sandwich and cantaloupe, I start getting antsy.
Yep, I did, I went over to visit her. It was quiet around here, he was watching golf, and the little white dog was laying on her pillow not moving a muscle unless someone yelled "treat!"
They were all there, middle son hanging up pictures for her. And oldest daughter was on her way over to go with her to Sam's to buy frozen chicken breasts and laundry soap. You're growing up when you want to spend your afternoon at Sam's.
To say I had a glimpse of a life without me around would be accurate.
They'd be okay. Their "issues", I saw this past week while on vacation, are really my issues.
They are able to work things out when I give them a chance and not try to make them do it my way which must be the better way because it's my way. I'm learning to let go I suppose.
When I got home to hubby, we looked at each other wandering what to do next. Okay, we did have the house to ourselves.
A little while later we looked at each other wondering what to do next.
We ordered the uncut version of "American Gangster" with Denzel Washington. Do you know that it is 175 minutes? THREE HOURS! We paused it several times, even paused it while I made dinner. Watching it in a movie theatre would have done a number on my bladder.
The pool looked inviting after dinner so I jumped in for a float. On a floaty. I'm not a swimmer but I sure can use a float, kicking just enough to keep me from bumping into the walls.
Hmmm--- it's kinda quiet around here...
Maybe I'll grill some burgers tomorrow night and invite the kids over for dinner.
Saturday, June 7, 2008
Get in the Car and Buckle Up
We're home.
We had to check out by 10 AM. That meant 9 adults, 2 children and one dog had to; eat breakfast, get dressed, make up beds, gather up linens, load the dishwasher, clean out the fridge, load up vehicles, and return keys all by 945. Oh, and find several pairs of wayward flip-flops.
And we did it.
We should get a medal.
There were four pots of coffee involved.
Sure hope I locked the door.
Once we got on the road it was clear sailing. Up until we had to change the DVD for our youngest granddaughter from "101 Dalmations" to "Rapunzel". That involved a little teamwork on hubby's and my part. Okay, I am not a whiz at DVD's, setting clocks, or anything involving a timer. But I could see.
I know you're thinking "Who was driving?" He was driving.
Okay, hold on, it's just that he had on his sunglasses, not his reading glasses, and I wear my readers all the time because you never know when you might be in the middle of nowhere trying to change a DVD at 55 mph and need to see the little screen between the steering wheel and glove box. (do they still call it a glove box?)
Anyhow, we pop out "Dalmations", easy enough, and insert "Rapunzel".
There's alot of choices. And there's alot of arrows, and why are there two menu options?
He presses something and it gives us audio choices. That's not it.
I press something and it tells us we can't make selections while driving. We concede it might be safer to pull over, and it's not like it's going to let us do anything until we put the car in park anyway. We see an empty church parking lot and he pulls in the Yukon.
There was a reason our granddaughter was in the car. There was a reason we were in a CHURCH parking lot. Not that words were exchanged, no, we used glances and looks instead.
"Okay," he says "Let's get out the book."
He must see no hope at all if he is resorting to reading the directions. Two touches later, "Rapunzel" was rolling. How simple!
After all this activity, I have to go to the bathroom. Normally I tell him about 20 minutes from the drop dead time. Gives him plenty of time to pass a few exits. But it just comes over me and I need to go. Now.
"Oh, there's a CVS!" I exclaim "Pull over and let me go in there."
I have this thing about bathrooms. I will use when backed into a corner, Mc Donald's bathrooms, they are usually cleaner. But by far I prefer to go to bathrooms at drugstores; Walgreen's, Rite-Aid, or CVS. I mean, who thinks of going there just to use the bathroom?
They do let the public use their bathrooms, but you can tell about 95% of the bathroom traffic is from employees. They have potpourri in their bathrooms. And good toilet paper, and floral scented hand-soap. Yup, I scored comfort and cleanliness when I saw a CVS.
I did have a "Duh" moment coming home. That sometimes happens.
I have another thing, this one about fruit and veggie stands. I hate to pass them up without stopping and getting something. We saw a big sign for fresh local corn and he knew I wanted to stop. It was pretty packed in there, lots of produce lovers. I found the corn bins and looked for the bags. There were only plastic bags available. I don't know about you, but my corn always rips the plastic bags. I end up trying to fold the plastic around the corn and "package" it to get it home. I was hoping that they had paper bags by the register. I asked her if they had any paper bags for the corn.
She looked at me and said "Silk side down."
That's it, that's all she said.
It was like daybreak, you know the sun coming up and angels trumpeting the arrival of a new day.
Silk side down!
We were so hungry by the time we got into town, that we pulled into Sonic for lunch. Sonic has half-priced drinks from 2 to 4 PM every day so if I am out and about I drop by for some tea. But that's a drive-thru mission. This is eating, so we have to pull in a stall and place an order. Do you know you can pay for it right there at the menu? There's an ATM-like slot and it takes all kinds of plastic, why carry cash?
The menu has a lot of choices, we finally figure out what we want and he pushes the "Place Order" button.
We wait.
And wait.
And still we wait.
I get out of the car and get the dog some water for her bowl and we still are waiting.
I ask hubby to push the button again.
He looks at me and says, "See how the button is red? That's because I pushed it. So they know we are on-line and waiting."
"On-line?" I wonder.... well all I know is that they aren't asking us what burger we want so there's a problem.
"Push the button again." I suggest a little more forcibly that the first time I asked.
He doesn't say a word, just makes a sound between a sigh and a strangle and leans out the window and pushes it.
"Welcome to Sonic. How may I help you?" a chipper voice booms from the speaker.
He slowly says " A coincidence."
Whatever.
So we order, eat, and then decide to have one last vacation fling and order ice cream.
He pushes the button.
We wait.
And wait.
I look at him.
He looks away.
I cough.
He pushes the button again.
"Welcome to Sonic. How may I help you?"
What a coincidence.
We had to check out by 10 AM. That meant 9 adults, 2 children and one dog had to; eat breakfast, get dressed, make up beds, gather up linens, load the dishwasher, clean out the fridge, load up vehicles, and return keys all by 945. Oh, and find several pairs of wayward flip-flops.
And we did it.
We should get a medal.
There were four pots of coffee involved.
Sure hope I locked the door.
Once we got on the road it was clear sailing. Up until we had to change the DVD for our youngest granddaughter from "101 Dalmations" to "Rapunzel". That involved a little teamwork on hubby's and my part. Okay, I am not a whiz at DVD's, setting clocks, or anything involving a timer. But I could see.
I know you're thinking "Who was driving?" He was driving.
Okay, hold on, it's just that he had on his sunglasses, not his reading glasses, and I wear my readers all the time because you never know when you might be in the middle of nowhere trying to change a DVD at 55 mph and need to see the little screen between the steering wheel and glove box. (do they still call it a glove box?)
Anyhow, we pop out "Dalmations", easy enough, and insert "Rapunzel".
There's alot of choices. And there's alot of arrows, and why are there two menu options?
He presses something and it gives us audio choices. That's not it.
I press something and it tells us we can't make selections while driving. We concede it might be safer to pull over, and it's not like it's going to let us do anything until we put the car in park anyway. We see an empty church parking lot and he pulls in the Yukon.
There was a reason our granddaughter was in the car. There was a reason we were in a CHURCH parking lot. Not that words were exchanged, no, we used glances and looks instead.
"Okay," he says "Let's get out the book."
He must see no hope at all if he is resorting to reading the directions. Two touches later, "Rapunzel" was rolling. How simple!
After all this activity, I have to go to the bathroom. Normally I tell him about 20 minutes from the drop dead time. Gives him plenty of time to pass a few exits. But it just comes over me and I need to go. Now.
"Oh, there's a CVS!" I exclaim "Pull over and let me go in there."
I have this thing about bathrooms. I will use when backed into a corner, Mc Donald's bathrooms, they are usually cleaner. But by far I prefer to go to bathrooms at drugstores; Walgreen's, Rite-Aid, or CVS. I mean, who thinks of going there just to use the bathroom?
They do let the public use their bathrooms, but you can tell about 95% of the bathroom traffic is from employees. They have potpourri in their bathrooms. And good toilet paper, and floral scented hand-soap. Yup, I scored comfort and cleanliness when I saw a CVS.
I did have a "Duh" moment coming home. That sometimes happens.
I have another thing, this one about fruit and veggie stands. I hate to pass them up without stopping and getting something. We saw a big sign for fresh local corn and he knew I wanted to stop. It was pretty packed in there, lots of produce lovers. I found the corn bins and looked for the bags. There were only plastic bags available. I don't know about you, but my corn always rips the plastic bags. I end up trying to fold the plastic around the corn and "package" it to get it home. I was hoping that they had paper bags by the register. I asked her if they had any paper bags for the corn.
She looked at me and said "Silk side down."
That's it, that's all she said.
It was like daybreak, you know the sun coming up and angels trumpeting the arrival of a new day.
Silk side down!
We were so hungry by the time we got into town, that we pulled into Sonic for lunch. Sonic has half-priced drinks from 2 to 4 PM every day so if I am out and about I drop by for some tea. But that's a drive-thru mission. This is eating, so we have to pull in a stall and place an order. Do you know you can pay for it right there at the menu? There's an ATM-like slot and it takes all kinds of plastic, why carry cash?
The menu has a lot of choices, we finally figure out what we want and he pushes the "Place Order" button.
We wait.
And wait.
And still we wait.
I get out of the car and get the dog some water for her bowl and we still are waiting.
I ask hubby to push the button again.
He looks at me and says, "See how the button is red? That's because I pushed it. So they know we are on-line and waiting."
"On-line?" I wonder.... well all I know is that they aren't asking us what burger we want so there's a problem.
"Push the button again." I suggest a little more forcibly that the first time I asked.
He doesn't say a word, just makes a sound between a sigh and a strangle and leans out the window and pushes it.
"Welcome to Sonic. How may I help you?" a chipper voice booms from the speaker.
He slowly says " A coincidence."
Whatever.
So we order, eat, and then decide to have one last vacation fling and order ice cream.
He pushes the button.
We wait.
And wait.
I look at him.
He looks away.
I cough.
He pushes the button again.
"Welcome to Sonic. How may I help you?"
What a coincidence.
Friday, June 6, 2008
We're Out of Milk
So this morning hubby gets up and gets me a cup of coffee to sip slowly in bed as I wake up. He's a good guy.
It's 630 and we are probably the only ones awake.
As he goes out the bedroom door, I ask him to take the dog out. She knows I'm talking about her and gets up and moves as far away from me as possible. I will admit she does look comfortable snuggled on the bed, she may even be contemplating going back to sleep. I would too if someone had rubbed my belly and cooed; "What a cute girl!" and " Oh, that's a good stretch" and let's not forget the little kissy sounds.
Well maybe not fall asleep right away....
He brings the coffee back upstairs and announces there is only a half gallon of milk left.
That's a big deal for this clan.
We need about a gallon for breakfast, a cow would be nice.
He volunteers to go to the store. The thing is, he is ready right now. He could get his keys, get in the car and drive to Piggly Wiggly without being stared at as he walks in the store.
It would take me at least 30 minutes to get ready and then I still would have to figure out what to do with my wild beach hair. He looks good rumpled, and sexy with that gray stubble.
Not fair. Not fair at all.
We go downstairs and he starts to look around the kitchen and asks me if we need anything else. Our middle daughter is up and wants coffee creamer. And we also need bottle water. He says okay and starts to head out.
"Oh yeah," I shout after him "and lunch meat."
He stops.
He turns.
He walks back into the kitchen.
He looks at me and says " You know that's four."
Oh yeah..eeek... four items.
Now I have to make him a list. For he has a three item retention limit.
Middle daughter looks at us oddly.
"Were you going to ask him to get a certain flavor of creamer?" I ask.
"Yes, it has to be Carnation brand French Vanilla".
"Good luck on that." I laugh
She tries to find a notepad and a pen but can only find crayons and Bounty. Even Bounty will tear when you try to write on it with a crayon.
She gives up. She looks down and realizes how long it will take her to get ready. She shrugs and says whatever, throws on a sweatsuit and goes out the door in about 5 minutes.
Wish I could do that.
But I drink my coffee black.
And I can eat toast.
I chuckle as I kick back and enjoy the quiet.
It's 630 and we are probably the only ones awake.
As he goes out the bedroom door, I ask him to take the dog out. She knows I'm talking about her and gets up and moves as far away from me as possible. I will admit she does look comfortable snuggled on the bed, she may even be contemplating going back to sleep. I would too if someone had rubbed my belly and cooed; "What a cute girl!" and " Oh, that's a good stretch" and let's not forget the little kissy sounds.
Well maybe not fall asleep right away....
He brings the coffee back upstairs and announces there is only a half gallon of milk left.
That's a big deal for this clan.
We need about a gallon for breakfast, a cow would be nice.
He volunteers to go to the store. The thing is, he is ready right now. He could get his keys, get in the car and drive to Piggly Wiggly without being stared at as he walks in the store.
It would take me at least 30 minutes to get ready and then I still would have to figure out what to do with my wild beach hair. He looks good rumpled, and sexy with that gray stubble.
Not fair. Not fair at all.
We go downstairs and he starts to look around the kitchen and asks me if we need anything else. Our middle daughter is up and wants coffee creamer. And we also need bottle water. He says okay and starts to head out.
"Oh yeah," I shout after him "and lunch meat."
He stops.
He turns.
He walks back into the kitchen.
He looks at me and says " You know that's four."
Oh yeah..eeek... four items.
Now I have to make him a list. For he has a three item retention limit.
Middle daughter looks at us oddly.
"Were you going to ask him to get a certain flavor of creamer?" I ask.
"Yes, it has to be Carnation brand French Vanilla".
"Good luck on that." I laugh
She tries to find a notepad and a pen but can only find crayons and Bounty. Even Bounty will tear when you try to write on it with a crayon.
She gives up. She looks down and realizes how long it will take her to get ready. She shrugs and says whatever, throws on a sweatsuit and goes out the door in about 5 minutes.
Wish I could do that.
But I drink my coffee black.
And I can eat toast.
I chuckle as I kick back and enjoy the quiet.
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Snakes on a Tree
Today we went to the Serpentarium. Yes, you read that right, snakes. Lots of snakes.
Black snakes, corn snakes, rattlers, pythons, all sorts of snakes.
Snakes in enclosed glass boxes, snakes in logs, snakes in water, snakes in the grass, and snakes in trees.
That last one gave me the heebie jeebies. That's me above, eyeing the snake tree with trepidation.
Imagine this, a tree with snakes draped over the branches, curled up in knots, and slithering up and down the trunk.
You think "Snakes on a Plane" made you flinch??? Walk next to a snake tree and visions of snakes falling on your head will make you scoot along at a quick pace.
Saw a young guy in the snake pit picking up eggs. I asked him if he had found a nest. He said "No, these are probably from the black racer, she sits on a branch and just drops her eggs."
I looked at him and said "Really?"
He replied "Yeah, she isn't exactly know for her mothering instincts".
What an understatement.
I think I'll tell my offspring that it's a big plus for them that I hung around and just didn't plop 'em out saying, "Good luck, have a nice life."
I watched "Snakes on a Plane". What a waste of two hours of my life. But I did cover my chest as I walked by the snake tree. Some things leave an impression and makes certain "parts" tingle.
They also had alligators. Big ole fat alligators. Seems they feed theirs daily when most wild alligators eat once a week. Thank God, hopefully they won't lunge at kids thinking "Chicken!".
I have been to several places that have alligators and I have yet to see alligator poop.
Don't they poop? Where is it? Have you ever seen it? It's a mystery I tell you.
I couldn't wait to get out of that place and back to the beach. You don't see snakes on the beach.
If you do, please keep it to yourself.
It was a long day for our middle son and hubby. The heat was getting to them at the Sepentarium. Something about a hangover coupled with heat and humidity that will make you feel putrid.
Not that they drunk alot, but at midnight hubby was still downstairs. I'm sleeping and I hear "BAM" and then "I got you! I win! Who's the man??"
They had conducted their annual armwrestling championship. One year hubby won't take the prize and the torch will be passed. But until then, he gloats and crows and enjoys the competition.
Visions of them armwrestling, ummm, a little inebriated?, on the glass top table had me frozen in bed for a sec.
Reminder - We are renting this house.
We don't own it.
We luckily have renters insurance for the week. I see the deposit winging away.
"So.. where did you wrestle?"
"What do you mean?" As he lazily opened an eye.
"Which table did you use?"
"Which one do you think?"
After numerous Jack and Cokes he stills wants to play games? This man that smells like the rum cake we eat on Christmas Eve?
I sit up in bed and loudly exclaim " Did you sit at the glass top?"
"Do you think I'm stupid?"
Arghhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Black snakes, corn snakes, rattlers, pythons, all sorts of snakes.
Snakes in enclosed glass boxes, snakes in logs, snakes in water, snakes in the grass, and snakes in trees.
That last one gave me the heebie jeebies. That's me above, eyeing the snake tree with trepidation.
Imagine this, a tree with snakes draped over the branches, curled up in knots, and slithering up and down the trunk.
You think "Snakes on a Plane" made you flinch??? Walk next to a snake tree and visions of snakes falling on your head will make you scoot along at a quick pace.
Saw a young guy in the snake pit picking up eggs. I asked him if he had found a nest. He said "No, these are probably from the black racer, she sits on a branch and just drops her eggs."
I looked at him and said "Really?"
He replied "Yeah, she isn't exactly know for her mothering instincts".
What an understatement.
I think I'll tell my offspring that it's a big plus for them that I hung around and just didn't plop 'em out saying, "Good luck, have a nice life."
I watched "Snakes on a Plane". What a waste of two hours of my life. But I did cover my chest as I walked by the snake tree. Some things leave an impression and makes certain "parts" tingle.
They also had alligators. Big ole fat alligators. Seems they feed theirs daily when most wild alligators eat once a week. Thank God, hopefully they won't lunge at kids thinking "Chicken!".
I have been to several places that have alligators and I have yet to see alligator poop.
Don't they poop? Where is it? Have you ever seen it? It's a mystery I tell you.
I couldn't wait to get out of that place and back to the beach. You don't see snakes on the beach.
If you do, please keep it to yourself.
It was a long day for our middle son and hubby. The heat was getting to them at the Sepentarium. Something about a hangover coupled with heat and humidity that will make you feel putrid.
Not that they drunk alot, but at midnight hubby was still downstairs. I'm sleeping and I hear "BAM" and then "I got you! I win! Who's the man??"
They had conducted their annual armwrestling championship. One year hubby won't take the prize and the torch will be passed. But until then, he gloats and crows and enjoys the competition.
Visions of them armwrestling, ummm, a little inebriated?, on the glass top table had me frozen in bed for a sec.
Reminder - We are renting this house.
We don't own it.
We luckily have renters insurance for the week. I see the deposit winging away.
"So.. where did you wrestle?"
"What do you mean?" As he lazily opened an eye.
"Which table did you use?"
"Which one do you think?"
After numerous Jack and Cokes he stills wants to play games? This man that smells like the rum cake we eat on Christmas Eve?
I sit up in bed and loudly exclaim " Did you sit at the glass top?"
"Do you think I'm stupid?"
Arghhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Wednesday, June 4, 2008
Curse You Reader's Digest!
The little white dog sleeps with us.
The first few months we boasted to all how she didn't sleep with us, she was crate trained and we were in control. She, the dog, let us think that for a few months before she showed us who was really boss. Her.
Every night when it's bedtime, she comes over to the bed and stands there waiting for the human elevator to come and lift her up to her sleeping quarters. Her snuggle time is limited to how long she deems it necessary to placate us before she trots off to the nether regions of the bed to settle in for the night. If additional snuggle time is bestowed on us, it's due to a) it's cold or b) she's scared.
Last night she was scared at 1:16 AM.
She jangled her collar until I woke up, scratching her neck with her backside in my face until I woke up. Lovely.
Why is she here? It's not cold. Then I heard it.
shuffle shuffle ...slap
What?
I looked around and didn't see anything. It was dark so no surprise there. I start to drift off, shuffle shuffle... slap slap
I sit up. What was THAT??? I get up and look on the deck - it's dark out there. Maybe a possum? I turn on the light expecting to hear something squeal and run off. Nothing. I go back to bed. The white dog is looking at me. "Well?" I look at her thinking fine time to have a Maltese. Where's a German Shepherd when you need one.
Shuffle shuffle...slap
All I can think about is every True Life Drama I have ever read in Reader's Digest. Remember those? The stories of wild animals attacking families as they sleep in their beach house, kids getting kidnapped, mad sea turtles going on a rampage. All the weird whacko stories of unconceivable things happening to unsuspecting people.
So I get up and check out the house...
Why am I checking out the house and not the hubby you ask? Waking the dead is easier.
You have to convince him that getting up is important, and necessary. Not gonna happen. A maniacal killer could be coming at him with a knife screaming "Cowabunga!!!" and he would barely stir until after the first blows. Well unless you get romantic, he wakes up for that. I weigh my choices and decide that the level of terror is not quite high enough for me to wake him up just yet.
I open the door and am assailed by the thunderous roar of a multitude of snorers. How does anyone around here get a good night's sleep? I cock my ear to the right and hear my oldest son playing what a think is a tuba. To the left our middle daughter is playing a cello. A night-time symphony in surround sound.
I explore the house anticipating a crime scene around each corner. Nothing.
I go back upstairs and settle back in. Maybe I scared whatever it was off.
The dog looks at me. I have a feeling she thinks she sent me out on a mission.
I feel used.
I settle back in bed.
Now I have to go to the bathroom.
As I sit there, the wooden shutter slats is moved by the wind.
shuffle shuffle ..slap
I'm going back to bed.
The first few months we boasted to all how she didn't sleep with us, she was crate trained and we were in control. She, the dog, let us think that for a few months before she showed us who was really boss. Her.
Every night when it's bedtime, she comes over to the bed and stands there waiting for the human elevator to come and lift her up to her sleeping quarters. Her snuggle time is limited to how long she deems it necessary to placate us before she trots off to the nether regions of the bed to settle in for the night. If additional snuggle time is bestowed on us, it's due to a) it's cold or b) she's scared.
Last night she was scared at 1:16 AM.
She jangled her collar until I woke up, scratching her neck with her backside in my face until I woke up. Lovely.
Why is she here? It's not cold. Then I heard it.
shuffle shuffle ...slap
What?
I looked around and didn't see anything. It was dark so no surprise there. I start to drift off, shuffle shuffle... slap slap
I sit up. What was THAT??? I get up and look on the deck - it's dark out there. Maybe a possum? I turn on the light expecting to hear something squeal and run off. Nothing. I go back to bed. The white dog is looking at me. "Well?" I look at her thinking fine time to have a Maltese. Where's a German Shepherd when you need one.
Shuffle shuffle...slap
All I can think about is every True Life Drama I have ever read in Reader's Digest. Remember those? The stories of wild animals attacking families as they sleep in their beach house, kids getting kidnapped, mad sea turtles going on a rampage. All the weird whacko stories of unconceivable things happening to unsuspecting people.
So I get up and check out the house...
Why am I checking out the house and not the hubby you ask? Waking the dead is easier.
You have to convince him that getting up is important, and necessary. Not gonna happen. A maniacal killer could be coming at him with a knife screaming "Cowabunga!!!" and he would barely stir until after the first blows. Well unless you get romantic, he wakes up for that. I weigh my choices and decide that the level of terror is not quite high enough for me to wake him up just yet.
I open the door and am assailed by the thunderous roar of a multitude of snorers. How does anyone around here get a good night's sleep? I cock my ear to the right and hear my oldest son playing what a think is a tuba. To the left our middle daughter is playing a cello. A night-time symphony in surround sound.
I explore the house anticipating a crime scene around each corner. Nothing.
I go back upstairs and settle back in. Maybe I scared whatever it was off.
The dog looks at me. I have a feeling she thinks she sent me out on a mission.
I feel used.
I settle back in bed.
Now I have to go to the bathroom.
As I sit there, the wooden shutter slats is moved by the wind.
shuffle shuffle ..slap
I'm going back to bed.
Tuesday, June 3, 2008
It's Only Hair
My youngest granddaughter is 5 years old, soon to be 16. Oops! Did I say that? I meant 6.
After sunning all day at the beach, she comes into my bathroom, while I am in the shower, to take a bath and get ready for dinner. You would have thought she was headed to the prom.
When she gets out of the shower, it's all about the hair. Already. At 5.
It's very helpful that I had 3 daughters and am used to hair emergencies.
So she gets out and dries off and immediately surveys my inventory of combs and brushes and finds it sorely lacking, for I have only one brush and one comb. And the brush isn't even round.
"Nina, (that's what she calls me), do you have a curling iron?" she says eyeing my brush dubiously.
"No Honey, I don't use a curling iron. But I do have a great hair dryer". Well you can tell that isn't gonna cut it, I better think quick.
"Why would you want a curling iron? No one uses them anymore, they are so passe". I try to be flippant about it - apparently it works because she doesn't even ask what passe means.
"Well do you have clips? You could dry my hair, flip it up on the sides and clip it with pretty little butterfly clips".
"I replied, "This isn't Walgreens. What you see is what you get, here's a rubber band."
Her little mouth sets in a firm line. She is still determined to walk out of here like she was done up for a photo shoot.
"Nina, this isn't working. It's so PLAIN!"
"Do I look like a hairstylist? Am I wearing a smock? Is my hair even remotely like anything you have ever seen in a magazine? Here have some hair gel, I know how to scrunch."
As I get older I have realized two truths; you can humor yourself out of almost any situation, and if you can't, bribery is not going to send you to Hell.
Humor is not cutting it so I work move to stage 2 - bribery.
"Hey, lookey here, I have some eye shadow. How about if you drop the whole hair thing and I will let you use some eyeshadow?"
"What color do you have?"
"I have golden brown and grey."
" I want gold. Can you make a pony tail?"
Sure I can.
After sunning all day at the beach, she comes into my bathroom, while I am in the shower, to take a bath and get ready for dinner. You would have thought she was headed to the prom.
When she gets out of the shower, it's all about the hair. Already. At 5.
It's very helpful that I had 3 daughters and am used to hair emergencies.
So she gets out and dries off and immediately surveys my inventory of combs and brushes and finds it sorely lacking, for I have only one brush and one comb. And the brush isn't even round.
"Nina, (that's what she calls me), do you have a curling iron?" she says eyeing my brush dubiously.
"No Honey, I don't use a curling iron. But I do have a great hair dryer". Well you can tell that isn't gonna cut it, I better think quick.
"Why would you want a curling iron? No one uses them anymore, they are so passe". I try to be flippant about it - apparently it works because she doesn't even ask what passe means.
"Well do you have clips? You could dry my hair, flip it up on the sides and clip it with pretty little butterfly clips".
"I replied, "This isn't Walgreens. What you see is what you get, here's a rubber band."
Her little mouth sets in a firm line. She is still determined to walk out of here like she was done up for a photo shoot.
"Nina, this isn't working. It's so PLAIN!"
"Do I look like a hairstylist? Am I wearing a smock? Is my hair even remotely like anything you have ever seen in a magazine? Here have some hair gel, I know how to scrunch."
As I get older I have realized two truths; you can humor yourself out of almost any situation, and if you can't, bribery is not going to send you to Hell.
Humor is not cutting it so I work move to stage 2 - bribery.
"Hey, lookey here, I have some eye shadow. How about if you drop the whole hair thing and I will let you use some eyeshadow?"
"What color do you have?"
"I have golden brown and grey."
" I want gold. Can you make a pony tail?"
Sure I can.
Monday, June 2, 2008
Some Cereals Are Just for Girls
This morning was cereal morning. The girls that had food detail today, had set out several types of cereal and some muffins for breakfast.
My daughter-in-law and hubby were downstairs when I came down seeking some java assistance to begin my day.
Let's see which cereal would I eat... Honey Nut Cheerios? Froot Loops? Honey Bunches of Oats or Curves? I chose the Curves. The lady on the box sure looked happy, jumping up in exhilaration - she probably already had her coffee.
The cereal was so good I asked hubby if he wanted some. He looked at me over his glasses and said "No". In a way like I was asking him if he wanted to shave his legs or do something totally against his grain.
"Why not?" I asked.
"Because that's girl cereal" He replied.
"Girl cereal?"
"Yes, it's a girl cereal".
"Okaaaaayyyyy" (drawing the word out very slowly and deliberately) "What would be a guy's cereal?"
My daughter-in-law says "Wheaties." Hubby says "Yeah! Wheaties!"
"Or Raisin Bran" he adds.
And another "girl's" cereal?
She's quickly replied (must've already had her coffee), "Special K".
Now the sad part is this, I get it. I totally get it.
Curves is for girls.
My daughter-in-law and hubby were downstairs when I came down seeking some java assistance to begin my day.
Let's see which cereal would I eat... Honey Nut Cheerios? Froot Loops? Honey Bunches of Oats or Curves? I chose the Curves. The lady on the box sure looked happy, jumping up in exhilaration - she probably already had her coffee.
The cereal was so good I asked hubby if he wanted some. He looked at me over his glasses and said "No". In a way like I was asking him if he wanted to shave his legs or do something totally against his grain.
"Why not?" I asked.
"Because that's girl cereal" He replied.
"Girl cereal?"
"Yes, it's a girl cereal".
"Okaaaaayyyyy" (drawing the word out very slowly and deliberately) "What would be a guy's cereal?"
My daughter-in-law says "Wheaties." Hubby says "Yeah! Wheaties!"
"Or Raisin Bran" he adds.
And another "girl's" cereal?
She's quickly replied (must've already had her coffee), "Special K".
Now the sad part is this, I get it. I totally get it.
Curves is for girls.
Sunday, June 1, 2008
Butter is a Condiment
Well we're all at the beach. No one got lost getting here, got into a fight, or fell off the balcony. Yet.
To encourage family bonding, hubby and I thought we would get all the kids to chip in for food and each day there would be different "cooks" who would be responsible for breakfast and dinner and cleaning the kitchen that day. Pre-planning skills are desirable since you go to the grocery store the night before for the food for the next day. The only one I thought might need a little "help" in that area was the second day's team; Hubby and our youngest son. Let's face facts; no girls on that team. Could be a plus when deciding what to cook, but not what is needed in order to complete the task.
To them, things like spices, cooking oil, foil, are not necessary items to get the job done, but instead, perks.
I doubt hubby even knows where I keep the spices at home or even what exactly constitutes a spice except for salt and pepper, and possibly cinnamon. And let's not even mention herbs.
So here's my thinking... they might need some help. Maybe a few suggestions on what to get, at least the basic necessities; bread, milk, etc...
The first time I started listing items he said "I thought you were bringing everything except what we are cooking?" I replied "Yeah, I'm bringing the condiments " and rattled off mayo, mustard, ketchup.. and that's when it happened. I was waved off! Yes, waved off! Said he "got it".
Still, I was concerned. Talk about your OCD personality, well it's me. Talk about a laid back one, and you're painting a picture of him. Yet it works for us. So on the way here in the car where he can't escape, I start in again, "You might want to get some bread, milk." and then I'm waved off, AGAIN!!! I only listed two items! He was getting a little perturbed at me and said " I GOT IT!" in a bit louder voice than the first time. Okay ----- thinking maybe I can write a list and stick it in his wallet by the cash. At least I won't be there when he finds it. How can this not be helpful? I am mystified.
So they go to the store and bring home bags of groceries. After they fill up the fridge and cupboards, and leave the room, I go and check it out... bread, milk. He listened! I am elated!
This morning they get up and start cooking, scrambled eggs, sausage, bacon, and toast. I ask where's the butter?
He looks at me.
He is still looking at me.
What??
He says " You said you were bringing the condiments! Why didn't you tell me you didn't bring any butter?"
Now I know.
Butter is a condiment.
To encourage family bonding, hubby and I thought we would get all the kids to chip in for food and each day there would be different "cooks" who would be responsible for breakfast and dinner and cleaning the kitchen that day. Pre-planning skills are desirable since you go to the grocery store the night before for the food for the next day. The only one I thought might need a little "help" in that area was the second day's team; Hubby and our youngest son. Let's face facts; no girls on that team. Could be a plus when deciding what to cook, but not what is needed in order to complete the task.
To them, things like spices, cooking oil, foil, are not necessary items to get the job done, but instead, perks.
I doubt hubby even knows where I keep the spices at home or even what exactly constitutes a spice except for salt and pepper, and possibly cinnamon. And let's not even mention herbs.
So here's my thinking... they might need some help. Maybe a few suggestions on what to get, at least the basic necessities; bread, milk, etc...
The first time I started listing items he said "I thought you were bringing everything except what we are cooking?" I replied "Yeah, I'm bringing the condiments " and rattled off mayo, mustard, ketchup.. and that's when it happened. I was waved off! Yes, waved off! Said he "got it".
Still, I was concerned. Talk about your OCD personality, well it's me. Talk about a laid back one, and you're painting a picture of him. Yet it works for us. So on the way here in the car where he can't escape, I start in again, "You might want to get some bread, milk." and then I'm waved off, AGAIN!!! I only listed two items! He was getting a little perturbed at me and said " I GOT IT!" in a bit louder voice than the first time. Okay ----- thinking maybe I can write a list and stick it in his wallet by the cash. At least I won't be there when he finds it. How can this not be helpful? I am mystified.
So they go to the store and bring home bags of groceries. After they fill up the fridge and cupboards, and leave the room, I go and check it out... bread, milk. He listened! I am elated!
This morning they get up and start cooking, scrambled eggs, sausage, bacon, and toast. I ask where's the butter?
He looks at me.
He is still looking at me.
What??
He says " You said you were bringing the condiments! Why didn't you tell me you didn't bring any butter?"
Now I know.
Butter is a condiment.
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