Don't touch that.

I have to post this before I can finish my Christmas shopping. I've been given a deadline, by the husband who has suddenly become interested in my blog in a confrontational way.
I've been called out on my dead squirrel post and my defenses are up because I have yet to fully develop my thick writer's skin. I'm still under the false assumption that everyone loves my writing and agrees with everything I have to say. It's a nice little wall I've built around myself, although I welcome a brick being kicked out now and then. I can probably take it.
Back to the opposition and the negative review of not just the husbands but others, who shall remain nameless but you will be able to tell who they are because they will most likely not be able to contain their comments on FaceBook. As I sit typing I can see the spot where the dead squirrel is haphazardly covered with leaves on third base, most assuredly decaying in the unseasonably warm temperatures. I imagine, and I have a healthy imagination, it's covered in creepy, crawling creatures that feed on the dead. You can almost see a wave of germs seeping into the air and slowly spreading into the neighborhood. It lays there decomposing waiting for little Bobby and his friends to find it, poke it with a stick and start charging the neighborhood kids a dollar to see the dead thing on third base. If it was still on the street where roadkill belongs, it would be squished beyond recognition and it's remains would have been consumed by the vultures in the sky. That's how nature works with wild animals. I want to be clear, wild animals.
It is a mothers nightmare to think of her child poking dead things with a stick and dear God what if they touch it? Since they learned to reach out with the right and the left, we've told our kids,
"Don't touch that."
The fate of the world rests upon us moms teaching our offspring to leave dead animals untouched. They have dead germs. The kind of germs that spread out of control from little Bobby, the host, to all his little friends and then to their customers who paid a dollar to see the dead thing. These children take the dead germs home to their families and before you know it we have the Zombie Apocalypse, which I have been telling you for years is inevitable. I just didn't think it was going start across the street.
I hope this clears up any confusion on my roadkill theory.

From the Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude files, #4815162342

You wouldn't think that a couple of Chinese dry cleaning immigrants would be able to afford a half a year vacation. Apparently mine can. Once again I stopped for my 4 shirt and the strangers were there. This is a little unsettling for me. Here are my reasons:

1. These younger Dry Cleaning "fill-ins" seem to have a firmer grasp of the English language. The failure to communicate was the reason The Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude and Her became regular blog fodder. I miss them.

B. When or if they come back, will I have to retrain them on how to say and spell my name? It took about a year last time. I'm getting all misty just thinking of the old days when I tried to explain "Seese with an S" to them. The thought of starting that all over again, well it's exhausting.

So at my last visit I inquired again and the strangers told me,

"Uncle and Auntie decided to stay for Chinese New Year."

"When the hell is that?" I said with my inside my head voice, my outside my head voice said,

"Oh." Then I scrunged up my entire face and asked,

"When is that, exactly?" I thought everyone had the same New Year, I mean I get calendars with my Chinese take out and they coincide with my calendars at home.

"At the end of January." She informed me.

All right then, another month and a half with the strangers. One day in February I will walk into The Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dudes and he will be back there with the ominous shirt presses and she will be telling me 'have nice day'. All will be right with the world. I just hope I can contain my excitement when they get back, I miss them and their ongoing contribution to my blog.

This is a WTF situation

I hate to call it writers block, being at a loss for words, because it's my own fault. I'm easily distracted, there's bright and shiny lights outside now. All I needed to do though, was look past the pretty colors right out my front window to see the next post that had to be written.

The family and I looked out there this afternoon, scrunched our eyebrows together in udder disbelief, looked at one another and collectively said,

"Do you see what I'm seeing there?"

We all agreed it was something we never expected to see and that I should blog about.

"But where do I start?" I asked.

"A picture?" Boy #3 suggested.

"NO." The husband adamantly objected. I was already on my way to my camera, but stopped. I'll try to paint you a picture with my words.

The dog brought it to our attention with a low guttural growl, she was perched on top of the couch looking out the window with great interest. Boy #3 took a look.

"Huh."

Boy #2 took a look.

"Did that guy just hit that squirrel?"

"Yep." Boy #3 replied.

"What's he doing with it?

"Huh?" The husband took a look.

We have a "common area" across the street, one of several in the development and this guy picked up the squirrel he hit with his car and carried it over there.

"What the fff."

"Language!"

"Mom, this is a WTF situation. You have to say it here."

"Not necessarily, let's see what he does next."

"What the "freak"? He's burying it with leaves? Does he think no one can see him? It's daylight, it's 3:00 pm on the main road and there are people driving by and dogs barking. Who is this guy?"

"I should have my camera right now and film, not taking pictures, this is YouTube gold. It would have gone viral."

"NO." He's no fun, the husband.

The guy kept grabbing hand fulls of leaves and dropping them on the dead squirrel that he so lovingly dropped under a tree, where children play. Actually I think that tree was third base when my kids played over there.

"He's burying it on third base." Boy #2 said to Boy #3.

Yeah, it was third base when the boys used to play there.

Okay so the guy has his car parked on the side of the road causing traffic to slow, the neighborhood dogs and ours are barking, it's daylight and this guy decides that after he leaf buries the dead squirrel he needs to squat down to a puddle of muddy water and wash his hands.

"See this is why I carry the little bottle of cucumber/melon anti-bacterial hand sanitizer gel in my purse that you guys say stinks. I'll bet he wishes he had some of that now. You know to remove the smell of death from his hands."

It isn't like no one has never seen a dead squirrel in the road, it's a common occurrence. I guess this guy was trying to do the right thing? No? Or he's just bat crap crazy. Nevertheless I need to thank him for bringing kookamonga right outside my front window, I barely had to move to write this post.

Guest Blogger?

Farvel Cargo is looking for Guest Bloggers. I am having a hard time keeping up with my 2 blogs Farvel Cargo and View of Sue plus blogging for Skirt magazine. Along with trying to write a book and short stories seeking publishing. GAH!
So specifically I would like to open my blog up to new bloggers. If perhaps you've thought of starting a blog and are hesitant you can post here. Or if you just have a humorous story you would like to share.
All I ask:
- The post needs to be humorous, because this is a humor blog.
- You need to be on FaceBook, because once submitted on my blog it is immediately posted on my Wall via Network blogs.
- Once the post is on my Wall, "share it". Yes, all your friends will see it and I will get traffic to my blog.

Private message me on FaceBook or leave a comment here on this post if you are interested. This could be fun!

This is where the early morning chaos ensued

This morning was wet, damp and unseasonably warmer than one would think. A day that gave you the impression that it hadn't made up it's mind on what season it wanted to represent. So whatever one decided to wear while walking the dog would probably be wrong.
I really don't get much time to think of what jacket to put on in the morning for our walk because the dog is impatient, she will actually bark at me if I stay in the bathroom too long. We are out the door within 10 minutes after I roll out of bed.
We took a left at the end of the driveway, deciding on the condo route this morning. It's quiet back there and I can bounce ideas off the dog without too many people thinking I've lost it. I have lost it but I like to keep that to myself.
Everybody must have got up early today because I'm pretty sure I said good morning to about sixty-seven people......... okay 5 people. I have not run into the crabby woman lately, but I ran into another older woman who was dressed up and seemed to be waiting for a ride. This is where the early morning chaos ensued.
As we turned the corner and saw the woman waiting for a ride, I let out a cheerful,
"Good Morning."
Up ahead there was a woman in her pajamas, wrapped in a bright red robe and attached to her on a very long leash a big Dalmatian. So while my attention was on the woman waiting for a ride, I was also making a mental note of the big Dalmatian and the red robe lady, so was the dog.
The woman waiting for a ride nodded towards me and the dog and replied,
"Good Morning, that looks like a new dog in the neighborhood."
"Oh no." I said as I was walking by, "We just like to walk back here because it's so quiet."
That right there is funny when you think of it because it was anything but quiet. As I turned my head back to the road the Dalmatian began to lumber towards us dragging the red robe woman behind him. I grabbed my dog by the collar because she doesn't put up with any shhhh...... crap and she protects me. The dogs were face to face growling and barking. And the red robe woman was still trying to catch up with the Dalmatian. Being the smart ass that I am I said,
"Clearly you don't have control of your dog."
"No I don't." She replied. Doh!
Further up the road a man had his truck half in his driveway and half in the street, hindering the progress of the woman waiting for a rides.......... ride. She impatiently laid on her horn because I guess she thought we couldn't see her car barreling towards us. I ran across the street still grasping the dog by the collar, I was quite certain she wasn't going to stop. The horn was a 'get the hell out of my way I'm not stopping for nobody' warning. They must have been going shopping.
It all happened so fast, the chaos. I found myself thinking of pepper spray the rest of our walk. Wondering what the laws of carrying pepper spray entailed. This is the first time the dog and I have encountered a run away dog on a leash, but we've run into our share of unleashed big dogs. Can I squirt them in the face with pepper spray?

Lessons Learned the Hard Way

I can't remember the date or the year I just know it was summer. And it was Boy #2's turn to take the garbage out. So I asked him, you know, to take the garbage out. Two hours later I asked him again. And then what seemed like the sixty-seventh time I said,
"Take the garbage out now."
And I squinted my eyes and talked through my teeth, a trick I learned from my mother.
"But mom, it's dark out."
"Take a flashlight."
"But......"
"Don't go there with me, I've been asking you all day. No TV until it's out."
He took his time looking for a flashlight and I followed him where ever he went because the garbage was going out.
Once armed with his flashlight, he grabbed the bag of garbage and headed to the back yard, down the deck steps and toward the shed. I went on with whatever I was doing. One minute later I heard running footsteps on the deck, up the stairs, the doorknob jiggle a bit before Boy #2 burst into the kitchen. He was babbling incoherently, something about beady eyes and a growl. While he was trying to explain to me that there was a beast in our backyard a smell started to work it's way towards our house.
"Skunk? Are you serious? Everyone close the windows!"
The family jumped into action, slamming windows shut, running up and down hallways and stairs. Because we had no emergency plan should a skunk show up in our backyard. We ran around like chickens with our head cut off. Once we were all sure that every window and door was closed we assembled in the kitchen. Breathing heavily, we remained silent and our eyes darted around the room.
"I still smell it."
"Yes it's very strong, not like when your driving and you smell skunk. This close up skunk smell is much more powerful."
I looked at Boy #2 and said,
"You probably scared it away, it's probably more scared of you than you were of it. And you looked pretty scared, you should have saw your face."
We all had a good laugh as our eyes watered from the stench.
"By the way," I asked, "Where's the garbage?"
"I dropped it and ran, flashlight too."
I rubbed my stinging eyes and then my forehead,
"So you provided it with dinner and light to dine by?"
We all made our way to the windows in the back of the house, trying to get a glimpse of our smelly backyard monster. We could hear some cans clanging together and some shadows moving in the glow of the flashlight. But it remained unseen, leaving us with only our imaginations to wonder what was going on back there. I was sure I'd never get Boy # 3 out of the house ever again.
"Guess who's cleaning up garbage tomorrow and bringing the garbage cans into the garage?"
"Me." Boy #2 admitted.
"And why might that be sweetheart?"
"Because I didn't listen to you."
"Uh huh."
Another lesson learned the hard way.

Inferno Review for Brent

On a Saturday afternoon road trip the husband was asked to stop in a restaurant for a late lunch to see if it was worth the drive. Uh huh, we do stuff like that and take pictures, then I blog about it. What can I say, we're givers.
The Inferno claims to be a Gourmet Burger Bar. Right there I was scared.
"Inferno? Is it spicy? I don't like spicy."
I could tell the husband was concerned because he didn't answer me or he was ignoring me, he does that too.
Gourmet Burger Bar, let's dissect that.
Gourmet: The menu was filled with Burgers named after well know cities. I guess that is where they can claim gourmet.
Burger: Yes, there were burgers and lots of them.
Bar: Here's were they get tricky. There is a booze bar and a burger bar. You can order a Snickerdoodle Martini in a carmel lined glass, dusted with cinnamon and you can take your non-city named burger up to a burger bar and load it with whatever you want. See picture of my burger with mushrooms, melted cheese and lettuce. Pickles on the side and just waiting for me to squirt ketchup on it. The husband chose a pretzel bun, because he's adventurous. He said it was good.
So we give the food a thumbs up. It was delicious and not spicy.
Scenery: You could call it "Almost Hooters" the waitresses were dressed in black tank tops and Daisy Duke shorts. Of course there were Flat Screen TV's everywhere but, as the husband pointed out, only showing one collage football game and if you are "hip to pop culture" some other TV's were playing big hair 80's band videos. I hate Journey. You could only hear the 80's music not the football.
Price: Normally I don't pay attention to such things because if I do then the husband asks me how much of a tip he should leave. This sends my brain spiraling out of control into a Math coma. Math is hard. So I waited until we got home to ask him about the price and he said it was very reasonable. We did not belly up to the booze bar though, we had a long drive home.
So Brent, it's worth the drive.

From the Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude files, #7857-X3A

Good News, they are alive and well, vacationing in China, their home land. That's right I found out their ethnicity, Chinese. Shooting my Vietnamese Prison Guard in a Chuck Norris movie theory all to hell. I picked mother up for a day at the mall, she had Macy's gift cards burning a hole in her pocket. When we got in the car I told her we had to stop at the Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dudes. She was excited about this because it meant I would blog about him instead of her. Because shopping with mother is a trip. She knows my weaknesses and pounces on them.

So I looked at her and said,

"This doesn't mean you can spray me with 5 different samples of perfume. And limit yourself to one maybe two if you want a ride home."

"What about lotion?"

"That all depends on how much you want my head to hurt and if you want me to start Nursing Home shopping."

Once in the Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dudes parking lot I said,

"This guy hasn't been here in over a month, I don't know what's going on in there."

"Ask them where he is."

"I don't think they understand me."

I went in with my 4 shirt and $7 ah 20. Just as I suspected, strangers. I decided to try to break the language barrier and communicate.

"Are you under new management?"

And surprisingly the Chinese woman strung along a series of comprehendable sentences,

"No, uncle and auntie are vacationing in China to see their new grandchild. Be back in 2 month. That's seven dollars and twenty-five cents please."

Get right on out of here, not only did I find out they're Chinese, but they are old enough to have grandkids and my 4 shirt went up 5 cents.

The geek in me.

The geek in me would not let me continue my shopping until I took this picture. A glorious PEZ collectors item that is Lord of the Rings. It's on my Christmas list. As you can see it's fifteen dollars and something cents, which apparently is unbeatable. I think the price is a little high when you take into account all the characters that are not represented. But it's still a lot of PEZ.
Also staying on the road of geekdome for the entire weekend, I plan to watch the new show Once Upon A Time. This may end up on my other blog, View of Sue if I can remember the password to post there. It's suppose to be about storybook characters that fall upon a curse from Snow White's Evil Queen. They are brought out of Storybook land and into the real world and they can't leave there town called Storybrook and they can't remember who they are and time stands still............see every time I try to explain it to someone in the house they look at me with guarded concern and seem fearful of my sanity. But that's a good thing, I like to keep them on their toes. It's on in 15 minutes.
Don't forget to check with each other before you buy my Christmas present, I only want one. I will compile a list for the rest of you.

Damn my ancestors for choosing this God forsaken frozen tundra we call Northeast, Ohio

Did you know that there are people down south that are walking on the beach without shoes or socks in their bathing suits? Hmmmm? It's not fair. Damn my ancestors for choosing this God forsaken frozen tundra we call Northeast, Ohio. It's about 53 degrees out there and raining.
Yes, I'm home from the sunshine state, Florida. It was 88 degrees when we left. My tan is peeling off and I have socks and slippers on, the husband is wrapped in a blanket on the couch, we have yet to adjust to the real world. Oh and the car ride, that's a long drive. We are walking around like a couple 80 year olds. Dear God, my back.
I'm not sure when I will begin cooking again, I've grown accustom to people bringing me food, taking away my dishes and giving them money for it. I know that won't work here, "they" have to be hungry, we only left them with a gallon of milk and a loaf of bread. Tough love, they fended for themselves. My only stipulation was to take care of the dog. We left her a new bag of dog food, two boxes of biscuits and $10.00 with a sticky note on it saying, "DOG FOOD MONEY".
Since she was alive, well feed and showed no visible signs of distress when we got home "they" received real souvenirs instead of hotel soap. We also bought a bushel of oranges which we let them eat too. One was sick when we left and the other sick when we got home. So we have that to look forward to. Great to be home, really.

Poolside from Florida

I know it's been some time since last I posted, I've been vacationing hard. But now I have another "by the pool" post because I'm in Florida by the pool. Me and Panama Jack aka the husband are poolside. Those of you who know the husband might find it hard to believe that he's poolside. Let me paint you a picture because he forbids pics. I must tread carefully.

Since my molecular structure allows me to become golden brown with very little effort and just the aid of the sun, it's that big yellow thing in the sky for those of you up North that won't see it until April-ish, packing our beach bag today was a challenge for me and Whitey. He burns, peels and then burns again. We've been at the pool for less than an hour and I think I need to spray him down with SPF 70 again. He walked out of the bedroom with his button up, collared, flowered, tourist shirt and his swim trunks on, completing the look, sunglasses and flip flops.

I asked him where my husband was and what he did with him? Was he okay and who is it that is accompanying me to the pool today. While we've been poolside he's been excellent company and whoever he is I really don't mind sharing my corner of pool space with him.

It's the other people that have become quite annoying. They haven't shut up since we got here and I have no idea what language they are speaking. We pretty much understand none of our neighbors. The ones next store to us speak French, at least I thought it was French. But the husband, who took French in high school and says it's Portuguese. Since I've never heard Portuguese I can't argue with him. We agree on the Germans and the Mexicans. And these loud annoying people at the pool right now, we're guessing some kind of Arabic, because they have a dark molecular structure too. They don't need sunscreen. So really right now the husband is sticking out like a sore thumb. He's as bright as the sun, a ray of sunshine, if it is truly him. Whoever he is I am enjoying his company.

So the Florida Gulf Coast has seemed to become a beacon to the non-English speaking vacationers. With every car that pulls into the parking lot we've made a game of guessing what language comes out of their mouths.

A texting log of Day 1

The following is a text log of our first day of travel:
9:40 am: My text to Boy #1 and Daughter-in-law #1 - On the road. We have driven 1 mile and still getting along.
Daughter-in-law #1 - Yay I can't wait to see u
My text to Boy #1 and Daughter-in-law #1 - Preliminary plans are being made on first rest stop. Have to pee. Words have been exchanged on stopping for breakfast.
Boy #1 - LOL still in ohio
My text to Boy #1 and Daughter-in-law #1 - In WV. Didn't get breakfast. Dad said I haven't annoyed him yet and he thought I would have by now. He's getting on my nerves.
Daughter-in-law #1 - LOL ur making good time
Boy #1 - LOL he talkin 2 much
Boy #1 - How do you like the WV mountains
My text to Boy #1 - Sorry for the delayed response found an antique shop. WV mountains are beautiful.

This is when we lost contact with the world in the West Virginia mountains. When I got my signal back I added Boy #3 to the texting conversation.

My text to Boy #1 and Daughter-in-law #1 and Boy #3 - We are now at the yelling at each other point but laughing about it. The GPS is trying to drive us off a bridge because dad called her a bitch right at the start of our trip. We are now using the google map that I'm reading. I'm scared.
Boy #3 - Thats a great way to start a vacation lol

The GPS bitch just told us to turn right into a mountain. She hates us. She seems to be trying to lull us into a false sense of security and then pulling a quick right turn. I'm on to her.

We were making good time, about 50 miles away from our agreed area to get a room but hit a bumper to bumper stand still traffic jamb. Damn.
7:00 pm - We are uncertain as to what state we are in. At some point we missed the "Welcome to North Carolina" sign. The GPS lady really has us rattled.

Having a great time wish you were here!

Raising Aging Parents 101

If dad says he can get to the Emergency Room of his choice several cities away, like over a half hour away, faster than an ambulance, then he can. Get in the car and shut up you're wasting time and it's raining outside, just get in the car. So I got in the car and called Erv.

"I'm in the car, they won't call 911." He swore a little bit and said he'd meet us there. I don't know at what age the parents must become before they let their children start calling the shots but I can tell you, we're not there yet, me and Erv. In the car Erv called me again, "You make sure when you get there to tell them mom's having chest pains, they'll take her right away."
Me: "She is having chest pains."
Mom: "No, I'm not having them right now."
Erv: "Let me talk to her."
Mom: "No, I don't want to talk to him."
Me: "She doesn't want to talk to you."
Erv: "Tell them she's having chest pains."
Me: "I plan on it, really."
Holy Mother of God the drama. Once on the freeway the rain became heavier thank goodness for the car ahead of us, we could at least see his tail lights. That was until he pulled under a bridge to wait it out. Dad continued. He's going to give me a heart attack, isn't that ironic? Did I mention there was hail too?
Once mom was ushered to an Emergency Room holding tank, Exam Room M, I went to wait for Erv. We discussed our stubborn parents while tests were being done and I held on to mom's overnight bag. We've been through the drill many times before and knew chest pains meant a 24 hour observation stay.
To understand this picture you will need the aid of a previous post. It will explain our unnatural fear of infection. But if you're pressed for time, we clean hospital rooms that loved ones are staying in to make sure they are really, really clean. But mom forgot her bleach soaked rags when she packed her overnight bag. This is when the four of us stuck our heads together and improvised. We stuffed a rubber glove full of bleach wipes we found in a official looking container on the counter. That's Erv holding it and that's my dads shoulder in the chair on the left, they are so alike.
When we arrived in the 24 hour observation room and the nurse left, we frantically started to wipe down the room while mom sat in her bed pointing to things we forgot. You might as well do something with all that nervous energy.
The 24 hour observation and tests determined some kind of blockage so we moved to the Cleveland Clinic and a whole new room to clean. Some time in between the drive to the Emergency Room and wonderful outcome of one artery being opened up with three stints, I rifled through the closets and drawers in moms room and found these, taught Dad how to use a digital camera and convinced him to leave his cell phone on even when he isn't going to make a call, showed him where the 911 emergency button is and told him to use it when necessary. I'm literally dragging them through the 21st Century.

I'm not an Alarmist but I am a Thinker

I am quite certain that by the time winter nears it's end, in Northeast Ohio that's April, I will be insane, but in a good way. Just remember I don't get out much and my posts lately are about me and the dog on our walks. So my imagination runs off on it's own at times and once I lose my grip on reality posts like this happen. I'm not apologizing, just warning you. Erv thinks I need to seek professional help.

_______________________________

I know what they're up to but I just don't know why. Obviously they are blocking off all our exits. "They" being the florescent yellow shirted "construction" workers and "our" being us, the community, the unsuspecting people of our development. Construction is in full force in our development. There are only two exits/entrances in and out of here. The dog and I have noticed an over abundance of detour signs the last few months. It has our spidey senses up a couple notches:
1. I think "they" are trying to confuse us with all the detours, one day the road closed sign is here the next it's there. Has no one noticed the hoops we are jumping through?
B. It's only a matter of time before they block both exits and feign ignorance. Then the florescent yellow shirts get switch with hazmat suits and were sitting ducks.
This means we will have to get out of here on foot and I'm not ready to shed my flip flop wearing days yet. I don't have a pair of hiking boots to wear when we head for the hills. I suppose I'll have to go doomsday shopping this weekend if there's still time.

From the Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude Files #6,152

I don't know where the hell he is, I don't know. The last two times I've stopped in for the husbands 4 shirt Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude hasn't been there and to make things worse she hasn't either. There have been different Asians in there each time. I blame the husband. He's decided to go with polo shirts this summer and I don't think he's going to make the transition back to dress shirts for the winter. He seems quite comfortable. So he's wearing a dress shirt once, maybe twice a week. Cutting down my visits to the Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dudes to barely two times a month.
With the huge language barrier I can't ask the "other Asians" WTF? Where are .......? I don't know their names. It's a dilemma, a worrisome dilemma. This could be the final chapter in the Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude Files. They are a constant source of blog fodder. I can walk into that Dry Cleaning establishment and walk out with an instant post. If my beloved, nameless dry cleaners are gone for good these new people better have something weird going on.

Next post, who the hell knows

There were a string of unfortunate circumstances that lead to the dog not getting her morning walk four days in a row. Which led to her unruly walk this morning. She doesn't understand "people problems" nor does she care to, it's all about her you know.
So I was ever so gently coaxed out of bed by the princess a half hour earlier than I would have liked. Actually I would have liked to get out of bed long enough to blow my nose, take a Tylenol Severe Sinus Pressure Caplet and drift of into an antihistamine induced sleep for the rest of the morning. But that was not to be. I did tell the dog while pointing to the window about the rain but she was relentless.
I got dressed, grabbed my phone, umbrella and the dreaded poop bag. It wasn't going to be a long walk but was sure to be eventful. Juggling a dog with pent up in the house to long issues and an umbrella was going to be a rude awakening, add a bag of poop and that's when the party begins.
I suppose it's her little way of trying to drag me out of my world of worry. You can't help but laugh at yourself as you walk down the street in the rain with the dog dragging you to an unknown destination, trying not to injure yourself with your umbrella as you take care of what she obviously has been saving up for me.
Next post, who the hell knows.

She's a known squirrel killer

The problem is the dog isn't a big fan of frolicking creatures that nature brings us to brighten our days. With the temperature cooling to the degree of "let's open the windows" Fahrenheit, we let the breeze and the crickets lull us to sleep. And in the morning we hear the birds chirping bringing us out of our slumber. It really is a sunshine and lollipops kind of atmosphere and adds a peaceful calm to the household.
But when a couple of geese decide to park themselves across the street from the house and squawk at irregular intervals, mayhem ensues. Since the dog is a known squirrel killer, she has an overwhelming sense of power when it comes to her turf. Her turf is basically the street we live on, if anyone dares walk their dog past our house she will let them know in no uncertain terms that they are intruding. She also has a white hot hate for skateboarders.

Wild animals really piss her off. They wander the neighborhood without boundries, she's jealous. So my morning and early afternoon consisted of squawks and barks, barks and squawks. The geese wouldn't leave until they were good and ready and now the dog is spent, sleeping it off on my bed, barely able to keep her eyes open. The know squirrel killer missed her mid-morning nap.

The Winn Dixie or Bust

Being a born and bred Northeast, Ohio native I can tell you that I am 92% sure that I have never visited a Winn Dixie. If I have, it was when I was young and on a family vacation. I may have been dragged in by my mother when we went south but in the recesses of my mind I cannot see a Winn Dixie in any corner of my brain. I may have blocked it out completely because when we were on a family vacation if I wasn't in the pool, I wasn't happy. I'm pretty sure I was a royal pain in the ass if we weren't swimming.
Our grown up vacation is getting closer, 5 weeks. We'll be in Florida to visit Boy #1 and Daughter-in-Law #1. Since the big trip is getting closer, plans are starting to form. I spoke with Daughter-in-Law #1 two days ago and told her that our hotel has a little kitchenette. And before I could say "groceries" she began to sing the praises of The Winn Dixie. She's taking me there to stock up my hotel kitchenette because, according to Daughter-in-Law #1, it's awesome. I'm stoked. Five weeks away from vacation and I already have a place to go. I've also requested to have breakfast at an I-Hop. Again, whether it's early Alzheimer's or I've led quite a sheltered life, I've never been to an I-Hop. Years ago before Lewis Black became popular I saw him on Comedy Central talking about going to the International House of Pancakes and decided I needed to go.

Jokes.com
Lewis Black - College Horse
comedians.comedycentral.com
Lewis Black Comedians Stark Raving Black Videos

I hope this video works I couldn't find it on YouTube, I might have to just give you the link.
So to recap, I will be in Florida in five weeks visiting the Winn Dixie and an I-Hop and I hear there's a beach around there somewhere too.

An idiomatic term for a claustrophobic reaction

I do believe I'm getting an early jump on:

Cabin fever it is an idiomatic term for a claustrophobic reaction that takes place when a person or group is isolated and/or shut in a small space, with nothing to do, for an extended period (as in a simple country vacation cottage during a long rain or snow). Symptoms include restlessness, irritability, paranoia, irrational frustration with everyday objects, forgetfulness, laughter, excessive sleeping, distrust of anyone they are with and an urge to go outside even in the rain, snow or dark. The phrase is also used humorously to indicate simple boredom from being home alone.

Although I display none of the symptoms above I feel them coming on earlier than usual. Oh and I'm starting to talk to myself.

They took my car away or I'd shop. Something to do with gas spewing out of Boy #3's car. Isn't that funny how all of a sudden his car becomes inoperable once I become unemployed? And I can't seem to find my shoes. Something is going on around here and I don't like it. Maybe I should take a nap, I don't think I've had my nap today.

Being a freelance writer is hard work, all you do is write. I write all day, except for when I'm dehydrating bananas. You know for the Zombie Apocalypse? You have to travel light remember. See my last post if you don't know what I'm talking about. It's the next post down, you're not getting a link just scroll. The problem with these dehydrated bananas is that they are really good. I'm eating them as fast as I make them. I'm going to have to start making them everyday. But I don't have a car. Gah.

What day is it?

Oh, this Twinkie thing, it ain't over yet.

Finally I got to watch Zombieland. This is kind of, sort of a movie review and has no business being on the is blog. But only 2 people read this one, so I'm thinking even less read View of Sue, I haven't posted there since May.
But I have an unhealthy fixation on Zombies and feel compelled to warn the world or the 2 people that read my blog, of impending doom.
Since I don't believe in coincidences, my frightful weekly trip to WalMart has lead me to the realization that we haven't much time. Learn these rules and know them well:

1. Cardio
2. Double tap
3. Beware of bathrooms
4. Wear seatbelts
6. Cast iron skillet
7. Travel light
8. Get a kickass partner
12. Bounty paper towels
15. Bowling Ball
17. Don't be a hero
18. Limber up
21. Avoid strip clubs
22. When in doubt, know your way out
29. The buddy system
31. Check the back seat
32. Enjoy the little things

I do know how to count to 10, this is a list from a Zombieland website. The character, Columbus has a list of zombie survival rules he came up with that helped him survive the zombie apocalypse hence becoming one of the very few survivors in America. Not all rules were mentioned, these are the ones that were.
Woody Harrelson plays Tallahassee and this is where I got spooked. Tallahassee is in search of a Twinkie, throughout the whole movie he's looking for the last Twinkie in America. The rest of the world is just not mentioned in this movie. They are either going through their own zombie apocalypse, continent by continent or the good ol' U.S. of A is on their own as usual.
Let's get back to the Twinkie. I finally get these boys of mine to watch Zombieland with me after we got rid of the husband for the night. He had to work late but refuses to watch Zombie movies, he's going to be the first to fall prey I fear. I thought it would be funny to buy a box of Twinkies while shopping today. Aisle after aisle I filled my shopping cart with the essentials, bread, milk, Pepsi, a head of lettuce, dog treats, Peach Daiquiri with alcohol in it that you just freeze and enjoy, cheese, hamburgers, and the list goes on for a weeks worth of food. All the while keeping an eye open for Twinkies. I doubled back and back again, "Where's the effing Twinkies?"
I've come to the conclusion that people are stock piling Twinkies, coincidence, I think not.
This is Reminderville, Ohio saying good night.

The unmistakable sound of chaos ensuing in the kitchen

There is always a small sense if loss when you break a dish or a glass while you are in the kitchen doing said dishes. It's an "Oh damn it, now I have to clean up shards of glass" moment. And sometimes "Damn there goes the set" moment.

Close your eyes and picture, if you will, the very top shelf of dishes. Got it? Okay. I was unloading the dishwasher and I reached up to put a glass bowl away, everything on this particular shelf was glass, can you see where this is going?

One of the little dohickeys that holds up each corner of the shelf popped out sending the entire contents of the shelf careening down to my head, the counter top, inside of the dishwasher and then onto the floor.

"Oh damn it, now I have to clean up shards of glass."

Taking into the fact that I've had several small accidents this summer, I'm starting to fear for my life.

The unmistakable sound of chaos ensuing in the kitchen aroused the attention of the husband. He rushed in and took a bowl off my head, then paused. I don't know if he just didn't know where to start or was taking in the scene unable to comprehend what had happened. Once he saw my face I believe he regained control because he started throwing broken pieces in to a bag, fast. He was avoiding my inevitable reminiscing of the broken pieces. Because everyone knows that the top shelf holds objects of things not often used or the "good stuff." He was diffusing a situation, which he's very good at. He turned the conversation into that damn dohickey and where the hell was it?

I'm not certain of just how much I lost during the kitchen chaos. I suppose I'll find out when I go to reach for something up there and realize it's missing. Also I'm walking around barefoot today so I'm sure my next post will be that of how I stepped on a piece of glass I missed when I was cleaning up shards of glass.

Bringing funny back

I think I got it back. I emerged out of my hermit-like existence today, if only for an hour, but out of the house and away from my computers. Thank you Harry for the link, it helped more than you will know. Things drop in your lap when you need them, this I steadfastly live by because they are the gentle nudges towards your path in life.

Less than a week of being jobless and I expected the money to come pouring in, patients my precious. Yes, I've already begun to talk to myself, but just one extra voice in my head and I think that one has always been there anyway.

My joblessness is explained here on http://www.skirt.com/. FaceBook had a reminder on my wall to fill in my place of employment, so today I filled it in. Unpublished Freelance Writer and I made myself the President/CEO.

While I write I've also decided to get back into eBay, so anything that has dust on it around here is getting listed. I also have those T-Shirts I made but I'm having trouble with the link where you can vote for it. I'll be working on that. Ebay and the T-Shirts are on the left column of this blog.

My list of writing pieces is growing. The next one to write is, honest to God, hand on the bible, when I was ask for my ID at WalMart. I was innocently buying a sinfully delicious Peach Daiquiri frozen slush mix, which reminds me I have to go buy a case of them, and the young man ringing me up asked for my ID. And he was serious, really. I pretended to be hard of hearing so he had to say it again, louder.

What is now known as the knee incident

If we'd all adhere to basic driving laws of the road then I wouldn't have a bathroom counter filled with various wound paraphernalia, damn it. If drivers in their SUV's would realize that their windows are tinted a tad and a person on a bike cannot necessarily see if they are being "waved through" then I wouldn't be screaming in the husbands ear as he pours peroxide on my knee, damn it.

It's totally half the SUV drivers fault that the rest of my summer is ruined. I will take partial blame for carrying a beach bag and a can of Mountain Dew while riding my bike on my way home from the pool. But if the indecisive driver would have just, you know, made a decision at the stop sign, I would not have had to stop abruptly and wipe out my knee. It's a mess and I'm not going to look good at the pool or in shorts the rest of the summer, damn it. It's unbecoming, a bandaged up knee, you know.

Cat fight at the pool but no Russians

Well I had other plans here at the pool today but when you have two girls arguing behind you, invading your every waking thought then they must be made fun of and made fun of they will.

If you are going to argue with each other and mom on the cell phone to audible levels as such that every one at the pool can hear, I believe your words are up for grabs.

I think a friendship may be crumbling right behind my back. One of them is trying to explain that "plans change" and the other one is trying to explain "her side of the story". Now one is on the phone trying to find a way home. It's a small community, walk off your frustration honey.

Thank you God for the bazillionth time for giving me boys.

Can I just go off topic here for a minutes? A family just walked in and was pool-ready as soon as they dropped their stuff. They must be reading my blog or they are as pool savvy as I am. Bravo pool savvy family. There is hope for all humanity, I've righted the world.

The girls have quieted a tad or they are getting drowned out by all the people that have been filtering in. Or someone is actually drowning them to shut them up. I have to admit the thought crossed my mind. Either that or just bang their heads together. Banging heads together works with boys. Does it work with girls?

With the girls incisive yapping quelled, I was able to get to the matter at hand, check on the Russians. I didn't hear anybody say vodka so it was safe to say the pool was Russian free today, at least while I was at my post.

Monitoring suspicious behavior at the pool continues

Someone has to do it and I've taken it upon myself to keep an eye on things while I lay here tanning and swimming.

I think one of the Russians are here and I have eyes on her don't you worry. She's a very large woman and she's been in the pool the entire time I've been here. Over two hours in the pool, she's going to wrinkle up pretty good. I think she's exercising.

Since I've had her under surveillance she started off circling the perimeter of the pool, no doubt on a scouting mission. Who does she think she's fooling? Now she's walking back and forth, from one side of the pool to the other, she got in the way of my laps. Actually some Americans got in the way of my laps too. I wanted to say to them all,

"Hey! I'm swimmin' here!"

Pardon my digression.

I made sure when in close proximity of the exercising Russian, I made eye contact. At least I think I did, we both had sunglasses on. She also had on a baseball cap. Suspicious? Damn straight. I'm going to have to come back here tomorrow now, just to keep an eye on things.

But now I must get going and give up my surveillance post, I have to get over to WalMart and check up on the morons. My work is never done.

Fun filled family freakin day at the pool

I'm not here to judge, I'm just here to pass along my infinite wisdom. And when I'm done with this post you will stop and say,

"Wow, she's so smart."

I'm an expert at going to the pool. I've been going to the pool since I was a kid. My grandmother use to take Erv and me, she'd sit and people watch with her bright red lipstick on so her lips wouldn't get sunburned and she wore a big floppy hat. And when we'd say,

"Grama! Watch this!." She would.

That's where I would like to start, then we'll talk sun screen. Here's the thing, when your kids are in the pool and they say,

"Hey mom/dad/grandma/grandpa! Watch this." Five times in a row, look up from your cell phone and watch whatever stupid thing they are doing so the rest of us don't have to listen to, 'Hey mom/dad/grandma/grandpa! Watch this.' Five times in a row. You know what? Just put your cell phone away and keep on eye on you children at all times. Those "lifeguards" are paid minimum wage.

Now the sun screen. This is going to make so much sense to you when I'm done. Put the sun screen on your children before you get to the pool. I can't stress this enough. When you come to the pool with more than one child and they still need sun screen slathered on them, do yourself a favor and just let them burn. I continue to be amazed at parents that file into the pool for a fun filled family day and they stop their children from jumping in with the rest of the kids. Why? Because before they can have any fun they have to be disappointed, start crying and be yelled at by their stressed out mom.

"You can't go in that pool until I put sun screen on you, WAIT!"

While you struggle with one child the others are inching their way towards the waters edge. You are not going to be able to catch them because your hands are full of sunscreen and the partially gooped kid thinks he's done when you go to catch the ungooped ones. The gooped one is slippery now you'll never get him back. See the chaotic situation you and you alone created? Tell me slathering them up at home doesn't make sense.

There is so much more I can teach you but I don't want to come off as preachy. Just remember one other thing, teach them how to play Marco Polo and I will hunt you down like a rabid dog.

Rocket Ships, Aliens, Mother Ship and Benedryl

You can't just say a rocket ship drove by my house and not have proof to back it up. So guess what? A rocket ship drove by my house today.

This is further proof that my neighborhood has run amok. That rocket ship is filled with unsuspecting, poor saps that think they are on a summertime joy ride. We will probably never see them again. I'm sure they will be beamed up to the Mother Ship if they haven't already.

There is something suspicious going on at the pool too. Friday, after work, I ran, literally ran to the pool for some time in the sun because I believed the internet weather channel. I believed them when they said it would be partly cloudy all weekend. Today, Saturday was beautiful. But back to Friday, I got to the pool and no one was in my "spot". Being a creature of habit or slightly OCDish I freak out if I have to set up my stuff in a different spot, so life was good to me that Friday afternoon or so I thought.

I stay up too late on the week nights, because of writing, so by Friday I'm tired. I fell asleep in my spot and was wakened by a itchy painful bite of a flying alien bug. I swatted it off my leg and went for a swim. Came back to commence the tanning process, the other side. This is when I started to wonder why I could see my cheek. My left cheek under my left eye was starting to protrude. I moved my face muscles and it hurt, the area around my left eye did. I gathered my stuff and went home while I could still see. On the bike ride home my left leg started to hurt and I could see several welts. Damn it they got me.

Upon further inspection when I got home I discovered the left side of my face was swollen and it hurt to walk. In the morning the swelling had gone down but everything hurt. The sun was also shining brightly. Somebody had to go to that pool and show that bug who was boss so I was there when it opened. And now I have a swollen ankle. The aliens have successfully injected me with their GPS nanobots and I'm afraid will abduct me at any time. It was nice knowing all of you, maybe they'll let me keep posting up there on the Mother Ship.

If it wasn't for being hopped up on Benedryl all weekend I don't know how I'd make it.

Hey mom! When's the last time I had a tetanus shot?

"Mom?"

"I heard you." I heard him, Boy #3. I was just stalling.

"When?"

"Didn't I stop being responsible for you when you turned 18? What are you now 19 ish?"

"Well back when you were responsible for me, did you keep some kind of records on my health and well-being?" he says as he takes off his blood soaked sock.

"Whoa, wait." Both of my hands did the big time out there kid, "Whoa, where are you putting that sock? Put it in the garbage."

"But..."

"Garbage! You better clean that out good and you're going to need a tetanus shot."

"But when is the last time...............?"

"If you can't remember, then it's time for one." I have no idea where his immunization records are, not a clue.

"You can't remember?"

"Honey, I can't remember your name most of the time. Why do you think I gave you a number?"

I sent him off for a tetanus shot and while he was gone decided to look for records saying that he exists. While I didn't find his immunization records I did find mine, huh. It appears I'm in need of a tetanus shot.

I can't see, I just can't see

I waited long enough, Blogger is not going to retrieve my lost post, I must recreate it. That sucks.
I think it all started at the eye doctors, yes, I remember. When she puts that eye glasses making contraption in front of your face and says, "Does it look better now or now, now or now?" That is the only time I can actually see. Once she gives me the contacts that are suppose to make me see the world in a whole new light, it goes downhill from there.
And just so we are clear, not seeing clear, but clear on the fact that Erv got bifocals before me, one week before me, so I'm aging better than him obviously.

"Here's what I'm going to do," says my eye doctor. "Your left eye's astigmatism is worse, I'm going to adjust that and the astigmatism in you right eye is hardly there anymore."

"Wha.."

"I'm going to give you a regular lens for the right eye with a bifocal. With the left eye you will still have the lens for reading and the right eye will be for seeing far but you'll have that extra help to see close up."

"Okay." She kept saying I was going to see, so I agreed with her.

"Go put these samples in and make a follow up exam, any problems call me before Monday, I'm going on vacation."

Here's the thing I couldn't see and the other thing, kind of funny when you think of it, I had to renew my driver's license in less than a week.
"I can't see." I explained to the eye doctors office worker.
"We can get you in Wednesday at 10:00 am."
"Nope, I work."
"How about Saturday at 8:30 am?"
"Nope, I sleep."
"Ma'am, she's going on vacation."
"Okay, I guess I just won't see until my follow up exam, precious."
The next day I called again and explained that I couldn't see and the doctor said if I had any trouble to call, I'm having trouble and lots of it. She put me on hold, came back and said the doctor will have a new set of trial lenses waiting for me to pick up. I couldn't see with the newer ones either. WTF! I put my old contacts in and took my chances at the DMV. I was asked if my address was the same, height, weight of course my weight is the same as when I was 16, duh.
"Will you move over to the eye exam please? Right eye first, okay read line 4 on the right side."
"L P H E"
"Good, remember to let me know when you see the flashing lights."
"Oh, I saw them, sorry I forgot."
"Read line 3 on the right."
"H T S I" and I waved my Spirit Fingers when I saw the light.
"Good, let's go to the left eye, read line 4 on the left."

I waved my Spirit Fingers and squinted, "Okay here's the thing."

"Mono vision?"

"Yeah, how did you know?"

"We get you kind of people all the time."

A message to my children

And when I say children I don't just mean the numbered Boys, this is for the daughter-in-law, the girlfriends and the one that calls me mom, I'll call him Nick. Mother's Day is Sunday and since you all did so well with my presents for Christmas, I wanted to make sure you didn't blow it for Mother's Day and my Birthday for that matter, which is the following Saturday. I really made out pretty good at Christmas didn't I?
All of you have jobs, some of you have more than one job, money should be no object. I know that gas prices are on the rise but if you just drive less this month you should be able to make this a Mother's Day to remember.
Did I mention that if I averaged out the time I was in labor with Boy #1, Boy #2 and Boy #3, it would be about 12 hours each?
See me or call for my list. Remember mommy loves you.

"Take Away Your Driver's License Conglomerate"

If I couldn't be a writer, if for some reason I had to stop pursuing my dream, I would then create a job for myself and I'm sure I could get people to sign up with me. We would be the "Take Away Your Driver's License Conglomerate."

From Post Office to bank to McDonald's (don't judge me) I was almost hit by a car twice. A time period of less than 10 minutes, cause I drive fast. These two people didn't even look my way and I wasn't even using my invisibility cloak. They just didn't see my medium size CAR.

What would happen in a situation such as this if I were the leader of the "Take Away Your Driver's License Conglomerate" is I would immediately slam my portable siren on the roof of my car, just like Starsky and Hutch, and take off after them, in a high speed chase if necessary. I imagine we would need some stinking badges. We, meaning those I have recruited. Isn't it wonderful, you are a part of a plan that I'm making up as I go along, you're watching it unfold before your very eyes? It's always good to have a back up plan and my brain cells are firing on all cylinders today.

Along with our portable sirens and stinking badges we will carry compact, heavy duty shredders, for the drivers license's we will be confiscating. We will shred them on the spot, drop their car keys down the nearest sewer and tell the ex-driver to call a cab. That'll teach 'em, that'll teach 'em good. Who's with me?

___________________________________________

Yes, I get very cranky when I almost get in a car accident because the driver isn't paying attention.

Pop

Let me explain my absence. "Advanced" Creative Writing Class has been wonderful but also time consuming. I'm learning a lot, writing a lot and writing some more. Personal essays seem to be my thing and for some reason when I sit down to write an assignment it comes out serious, go figure. I thought I was a goof-ball writer but found I have a serious side of writing that is screaming to get out. I can't stop the words, they just keep coming. But I told my sister-in-law I'd make her laugh today. The last time I posted something on http://www.skirt.com/, I made her cry, so I owe her a laugh.

______________________________________

Boy #1 moved to Florida this past weekend. Actually that's how I made Debbie cry, writing about this. But that's the direction we're going, south. Along with all the unwanted advice we gave Boy #1 and Daughter-in-law #1 before the big move, I also added,

"Now Boy #1, don't you come home to visit and call Pepsi a soda. You are a born and bred Northeast Ohioan, we say pop."

"I would never say soda."

"Damn right."

"I promise."

"No other part of the country calls it pop but us, nobody in the world does but us and we're damn proud of it, ya here?"

"Yes ma'am. Pop. Pop, pop, pop."

"That's mommy's boy. Now this is what I want you to do. You get yourself settled in Florida and then you convert the entire state into saying pop."

"I can do that. I'll keep a list."

"Yes, very good, a list. That's the way to think."

"They'll never know what hit them."

"And if it works......"

"It will work."

"We can send the other two off to different states."

"Diabolical."

"Downright diabolical."

I have this ball bouncing around in there, smacking the sides of my skull and rolling around my brain rendering me an idiot

I know I have a lot of male commentors so there's a good chance you missed my post at www.skirt.com, it's a woman's online magazine that has politely accepted my request to blog for them. So what did I do? I posted about boy stuff. I'm just a rebel and I'm never, ever, ever gonna be any good. Now go read this post so you can follow along with the rest of this one. So I guess I have a "Bracket" now?

Apparently "it" is starting again, tonight. The madness I mean. If I have one more guy explain the crazy world of Brackets to me again my brain will explode. You know how it is when you really don't give a flying crap about a particular subject? Or your brain is too busy to process useless information. Or no matter how hard you concentrate you're just never going to get, oh say the Flux Capacitor, Quantum Physics or March Madness NCAA College Basketball Brackets.
The information that is being forced into my brain, because I was foolish enough to listen to the guy at work and fill out a bracket, cause it's free, is giving me brain damage. This information is going in and I think because I can't process it, has formed into a ball of useless knowledge. Without the ability to understand the bracket concept or just not wanting to, I have this ball bouncing around in there, smacking the sides of my skull and rolling around my brain rendering me an idiot.
How much longer does the Madness last? I use my brain almost everyday and have become very fond of it, I'd really like to keep it intact as much as possible. I've got myself closed in my office at the moment. Eventually I'll have to use the facilities. Do I have to avoid my family all weekend?
The guy at work, the one that started this, I have him under control. He doesn't speak of it. Would you like to know why? Cause I'm kicking his ass, that's why. He's going down. He's probably out of it already. A girl is beating him, me.

When things go missing

"Why is the dog's tongue blueish/green?"
This snapped Boy #3 to attention and he crawled into the dogs little house. All you could see were his butt and his feet.

Can we just go off topic for a minute? Of course we can, it's my blog.
The fact that Boy #3 dove into the doghouse cannot be ignored. Both of his older brothers were in the vicinity and they could have easily gave him a swift kick in the butt and locked him in. Like they've done before. I really don't know how Boy #3 survived his childhood. Anyway my baby exhibited bravery far beyond the call of duty. I just needed to point that out.

He emerged from the doghouse with a chewed pen, only half of it.
"Ah, that explains the discoloration. See if you can find the other half. Please let it be in there."
Once again he emerged, "Dad, here's you spare keys. I found the rest of the pen."
"I guess it's time to get rid of that old comforter in there, she has it ripped to shreds, too many hiding places."
The dogs sanctuary, her little place to go unwind after a long hard day of neighborhood watching, is where our old comforters go to die a slow painful death. She's a comforter killer, sometimes she gets them before their time is up. She has a thing for the stuffing, she guts them.
When things go missing her house is the first place we look, it use to be Boy #2's room. His room is the second place we look for all things lost. He's a non-returner, a keeper of all, he loses things. The husband has him putting up a deposit on the tools he borrows and I didn't feel the least bit guilty sending him out in the cold late at night to buy me tape so I could finish my Christmas wrapping. He's got to have about 27 rolls of tape in his room somewhere.

I guess you can say we had a productive Sunday. The dog only ingested ink, not plastic, she has a new pillow in her house, the husband has his spare keys and Boy #3 didn't get locked in the doghouse. I don't ask for much.

Still Winter Zombies

Northeast Ohio has four seasons, Almost Winter, Winter, Still Winter and Construction. We are, at this moment, in the intolerable season of Still Winter. It's the season that tries man's soul, separates the men from the boys, the season of despair, children literally bounce off the walls in complete and utter boredom, women crying in the streets, it's the season we go bat crap crazy.
March 10, 2011 and we have yet another winter storm looming in the distance. It is poised to strike at 8:00 pm this evening. We seasoned Northeast Ohioans after being fed this information, go about our day in a zombie-like state. It is futile to complain. Bring it.
Back in the season of Winter we would run to the store after hearing news of the impending doom and stock up on provisions. Not now. Now we will eat our young if we have to, we are Still Winter Zombies after all.
"Snow?"
"Yes, snow."
"More snow?"
"Approximately 4 to 12 inches, depending on where you live."
"It's been raining for 3 days, more snow?"
"Yes, snow."
I've started talking to myself, out loud.
"The floods, what about the floods?"
"I imagine they will still be there when this new snow melts."
"In particular, the flood at the beginning of our development precious. The one that has plagued our commute to work and such."
"That will most likely become a sheet of ice, making our ride into work interesting, tricksy, you might say."

I do believe I'm at the bat crap crazy stage now but I'm trying to keep it under wraps. I had a 15 minute conversation at work today about pencils, that can't be good. But who wouldn't want to hear about the best pencil ever made? The Dixon/Ticonderoga, I never knew it was the best, I listened with interest.

Remember to feed the dog, we'll be back Sunday

Since it's our money and not theirs until we are dead, the husband and I ran off for the weekend and chipped away at the kids inheritance. I very much miss the days when the boys were young but you can't beat packing one suitcase, carrying it to the door, looking back at whoever might be listening and say, "Remember to feed the dog, we'll be back Sunday." It's a high that you really can't explain unless you've traveled with children. Neither of us threw up and we never had to threaten anyone that we would "pull this car over right now."

Taking these weekend trips are for us and us only, so there are no souvenirs involved either. We don't want to spoil them. They have come to rely on mom's ingenuity, free stuff. On this trip I scored eye makeup remover, a couple tea bags, a hot chocolate pack, hand lotion, a still wrapped in cellophane cup and coffee cup, a coffee package specially made for hotel coffee makers, a pack of creamer and a small pack of salt. These will be dispersed among my children. I brought home some matches but at the ages of 24, 21 and 18, I still don't trust them with a pack of matches and probably never will.

Which button, which button?

"I just don't understand. There's a POWER button and an ON/OFF button and I turn it on by pushing the POWER button?"
"No. Mom how many times.....?" Boy #3 is exasperated.
Standing in front of the fairly new TV like I always do with the remote when I try to turn it on, I consult my offspring, the exasperated one.

"You push the ON/OFF button."

"Oh that's right, I always forget. I don't want to push the wrong one because then I really don't know which one of these five smaller ones to push to fix it, you know......" Boy #3 had retreated to his room during my confusion. That's alright, it's not like I don't know where he lives.

Most of the time I just leave the TV on now so I don't have to turn it on, especially if no one's home. That's why I have the memory lapse's.

Boy #1 came over Sunday, out of the corner of my eye I could see him point the remote towards the TV.

"Nooooooo." I dove in front of the TV just like a Secret Service Agent taking a bullet for the President. "Which button did you push?" I looked at the TV and the screen was blank. "Which button, which button?"

"Did you take your little green pill today?"

"I have to get your brother involved now, he's losing his patience with me."

"You don't know how to turn on your own TV?"

I smacked him on top of his head with the remote and called his brother.

"This is...there's got to be....what the hell? Why is this so difficult."

"I'm going to look up how to program it."

"Would you please, this is disconcerting."

"Don't use your big writing class words with me. What does that mean?"

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I had so much fun in my Writing Class that I'm taking another, starting March 16. I think I've learned a lot, I'll be knocking your socks off very soon.

These are the comments I have to deal with when Relax Max gets behind on his reading.

Relax Max, you are guest posting whether you want to or not.

Relax Max said...
Monday morning promised. Sue began her Creature on the Wall post confidently. Monday morning promised...What the hell did Monday morning promise, she thought, sucking idly on her McDonalds “Fake Frappe”, screwing up her face as she pondered the promise of Monday. Sue had something in her eye and looked squintily in the rear view mirror at herself, jerking the wheel back to the right at the blast of the passing truck’s airhorn, almost dropping the cup in the process. Monday, Monday, so good to me. Monday, Monday, it was all I hoped it would be. Oh Monday morning, Monday morning, couldn't guarantee, that Monday evening you would still be here with me. Paula reached over and turned the radio down. She squinted and threw Victor a glance. A squinty glance. But it missed and bounced off the windshield. Victor’s grin got wider and wider until finally it was big enough for her to grab. She shook Victor by the grin until his eyes crossed.Paula looked at the rabbit in the cage and thought of the pound. Do they take rabbits at the pound? She wondered. In her swaggering wondering 30-something way. She dozed off. Paula was wakened by the sound of screeching tires and gravel hitting the underside of the vehicle. Paula had forgotten she was the one driving. “Whew!” Paula thought to herself, no longer swaggering. “I almost got my first big break!” Victor was no longer grinning widely. Victor’s eyes were no longer crossed. Victor’s seat was wet. Pee, she thought. Victor looked at her blankly, still floating somewhere in the outer reaches of car crash purgatory. “Could you please pull over, Paula? I need to change my drawers.”Paula was fully awake now. Both white-knuckled hands gripped the steering wheel like a starving Sudanese child might grip an Egg McMuffin. “Please wait. Be back in two minute.” Victor got out and slammed the door behind him. The trunk popped open. As she waited, Paula’s good eye swaggered up to the billboard at the side of the road. “McGreggor’s Dairy Farm, 3 miles ahead” is said in big red letters. “And Chinese rabbit hutch” some vandal had scrawled below in small blue letters. “Sweet Baby Jesus.” Paula began to pray in earnest, deep in the twilight zone now, feeling less in control of her Monday now than Mo Gadahfi. Where the hoary frack was that idiot cameraman? Paula suddenly felt empty and alone. As alone as a diehard Cleveland Indians fan sitting in the bleachers at Progressive Field during the World Series. “Carrots? Carrots?” moaned the ghostly old beer vendor as he cast a Jacob Marley eye on the rabbit in Paula’s lap. Monday, Monday, can't trust that day. Monday, Monday, sometimes it just turns out that way. Oh Monday morning, you gave me no warning of what was to be. Oh Monday Monday, how yould could you leave and not take me?

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This is an actual comment, just one comment. I copied and pasted it from just one comment. He's long winded but visiting his blogs is worth it.

Carity2011

Britishspeak

The Slap & Tickle

Thank you Relax Max for your guest post.