The $5.00 swear jar

Text from Boy #2: Would you guys try really hard not to swear when we come over Sunday?
My text back: Did you swear in front of my grandson?
Boy #2: Yes.
Me: I'm on it.
I proceeded to inform the husband, Boy #1 and Boy #3 that there will be no swearing in the house from the minute my precious 2-1/2 year old grandbaby steps over our threshold to the minute he steps out. And we mulled it over for about half a day then reconvened to discuss our options.
I brought up practicing saying fudge, shoot and heck. Boy #1 said,
"I'm not saying fudge."
I responded,
"I have duct tape."
The husband came up with a brilliant plan,
"Let's make this interesting. We all put $5.00 in and whoever doesn't swear gets the $20.00."
We all agreed.
Sunday rolls around and we tell Boy #2 and Daughter-in-Law #2 about our plan and the money riding on it. This proved later to be a huge mistake. Because Boy #2 is the master of mayhem and has a level of high jinx most of us can only dream of. Long story short, he baited us. Boy #1 was out within the first hour. The husband lasted two hours. It was down to Boy #3 and me. Boy #3 has always chosen his words wisely. He guards them with care being the youngest of three boys, he learned at a young age to be careful what he said or he would be made fun of, mercilessly.
The day turned to early evening and I was starting to clean up. With my hands full I ask Boy #2 to help me,
"Just move that over so I can set this down."
He proceeded to move it and move it back. Then move it and move it back again, several times until I said,
"God damn.....it."
 His eyes danced around evilly, grinning from ear to ear,
"I got you. Ha! Gotcha."
Boy #3 exclaims,
"Mom swore? Did mom swear? I won!"
"But....I....wait a minute.......he baited me."

WHAT IS IT?

What the hell is that? I put the dog out this morning and noticed my light post was more crooked than usual. So I tried to fix it. It looks like hell. I thought there was a leaf on it so I grabbed it and it moved. I shit you not.

Look at it. What is it? Some kind of moth? Will it kill me? Just what fly's around my neighborhood in the middle of the night? If I saw that flying towards me I'd pee myself.
My first attempt to remove it from my light post was a failure. It's feet or claws were stuck. So already having touched it once, I took a step back to figure out this dilemma. If it falls it would be within the dogs reach and she would eat it, no question about that. Removing it would mean carrying it beyond her reach and touching it again. I was creeped out. What if it's poisonous? But it's white and fuzzy underneath. How bad can white and fuzzy be?
No choice, I took a hold of it's leaf wing and flung it in the air thinking it would fly away. Instead it plummeted to the ground. Son of a bitch. The dog could still get it. I touched it a third time and moved it to the other side of the driveway, in the grass. But it was in the sun. I then moved it under the truck in the shade. Four times I touched this thing so I am concerned as to it's origin.
Now I'm wondering if it needs water. WTF is wrong with me? I have to go check on it.
Holy crap it's gone. What a little trooper. Unless something ate it. I either saved it or feed something. And yes, I washed my hands with industrial cleaner.

Hey it's raining and I'm not complaining

Northeast Ohio is in need of a good rain. Today the heavens opened up and poured down on us. But it waited for me to bring in my groceries with the help of Boy #1.
The thunder came first, off in the distance. Growing closer with each grocery bag we grabbed. The high winds were next but we only felt a couple drops by the time we unloaded the car with this weeks provisions. We felt a sense of accomplishment, Boy #1 and I did. He told me,
"I'm taking a nap, this is good sleeping weather."
And I said,
"Just listen for the crackle of broken tree limbs."
And I pointed outside his window,
"Because your dad and I are a little concerned that the dead limb on top of that tree is going to come down. Sweet dreams."
I went to the kitchen to put away my stuff and things. I had to stop one time because my flower stand on the front porch blew over. Wow, thinking to myself, it's really windy and the rain is going sideways, we needed this.
With the grocery's put away it was time for me to sit and relax with my mocha. The one I stopped for on my way home. The one whose taste still languished on my taste buds. The one I got for free because I had 6 stamps on my card. The one that was still in the car.
I said some bad words and looked at my car with my hands in my hips. Mocha has a firm grasp on my life, there was no question about it, I was going out there. I have a large umbrella I use to use for the boys ball games, I was sure it would be sufficient for a quick run down the steps and opening my car door for that delicious brew.
I made a quick mental plan, I have to do that or I will trip on my own feet, and I opened the door. The insufficient umbrella almost flew out of my hands. Had I been the weight that I was before my hormonal imbalance I might have flown away, so yay menopause. Reaching the car I fumbled with the umbrella, which was sideways, and the car door. I decided it was better to be soaking wet than spill my mocha. I was swearing like a drunken sailor by the time I skipped up the steps because another flower pot was blown over. My hands were kind of full and that flower pot waited there for me to save it. I said the eff word. Don't tell my mom.
Once in the house, soaking wet, mocha in hand, umbrella secure, I took a sip of my uncontrollable addiction. It was worth it.

Along Came a Spider

Dangling from my shower ceiling a Daddy Long Legs decided to scare the living crap out of me just as I started washing my hair. Panic set in immediately. My first thought,
"This is going to be a great blog post if I get out of this alive."
I cupped my hands trying to collect enough water to throw at it. Which was somewhat effective as it was hit by a few drops and scurried back up to the ceiling. But still in the shower with me and my time was running out as the shampoo suds started to impair my vision. With one hand I wiped my eyes and the other trying to direct water towards the perv spider, I managed to get it to crawl past the shower curtain perimeter.
I finished washing my hair while watching the creature slowly make its way along the corner where the ceiling and wall meet. Never closing my eyes, they are blood shot at the moment and they sting. I might go blind but I never took my eyes off him.
Then he stopped and hung right above my towel.
"Oh, it's on now you bastard. Land on my towel and I will get right out of this shower and spray you with hairspray."
He must have understood me because he scurried back up and continued along the wall. Without the aid of my contacts or glasses he started to blur or I was really going blind. Whatever it was, I couldn't see him anymore, which was a little unsettling.
The rest of my shower was quick and I never closed my eyes, this could explain why they are swollen and red. I shook out my towel anyway because you can never be too careful. If fact I shook everything that could be shook in that bathroom except for the decorative towels on the towel rack that falls down if you touch it. No spider, can't find him. I was going to spray him with hairspray anyway. Yes I lied to him. So now instead, I have to burn the house down after I'm done writing this.

OMG! I'm blogging!

Explaining my absence from blogging will take too long. Let's just say I got side tracked volunteering my time and I'm technically challenged.
Now that being said, here is why I'm a moron.
Innocently sitting around on a Sunday afternoon doing nothing and when I say doing nothing, I was doing it better than anyone in the house which is why, I suppose, I was picked by Boy #3 to 'just sit in his truck and pump the brakes'. And it was only going to take a 'half hour tops'.
The kid was doing a brake job on his truck and needed to bleed the brake line. So I was told to pump the brakes three times and hold on the third. I didn't even have to put shoes on for this.
So I hear under the truck,
"Ready when you are mom."
"Okay. 1, 2, 3 hold."
"Again."
"1, 2, 3 hold."
"Again."
"1, 2, 3 hold."
"One more time."
"Okay. 1, 2, 3 hold."
"Now the other side."
"Okay."
So we did it again. The thing is that I wasn't told and had no idea that I was pumping air out of the brake line. When told to hold at 3 even though I felt the peddle give a little I held it in place. This is where problems started and tempers flared. The husband was involved now strictly for observation.
After a test drive Boy #3 returned and we had to do the 1, 2, 3 hold again. Which still didn't work because I was clueless. I had absolutely no idea I was inadvertently sabotaging my baby's effort.
After Boy #3 threw a few things around and was generally frustrated, the husband suggested to start fresh the next day since Boy #3 had the day off.
Day 2:
"Ready when you are mom."
"Okay. 1, 2, 3 hold."
"Again."
"1, 2, 3 hold."
"Again."
"1, 2, 3 hold."
"One more time."
"Okay. 1, 2, 3 hold."
"Now the other side."
"Okay. But let me ask you something."
"Yes."
"If I feel the brake give on the third time do I keep pushing it down?"
"Yes." And the 'yes' had a duh sound to it.
"I didn't do that yesterday."
The kid, who loves his mother with all his heart, looked at me sideways, rubbed his grungy hands over his face and said,
"That may have been the problem. Are you pushing the peddle down all the now?"
"Yes."
"Good."
The brakes were done in a half hour tops. Test drive successful. The husband filled in on the problem, me, and I will be teased about this starting around 6 pm this evening until the end of time.

An open love letter to Nyquil

My dearest Nyquil,
You wonderful, magical, green elixir of slumber juice. I love you. At the moment I felt the plague creep into my body I went to you, in my medicine cabinet. But alas, you were not there. I was a fool to think I could go on without you. But I did.
For days I suffered until I could take it no more. I searched for you in the personal care aisles of WalMart. There you were waiting for me. My trembling hand reached out to you and gently placed you in my shopping cart. We made to the checkout line and bells went off as my cashier swiped you. The fact that you must be 18 years old to take you home made you all the more alluring.
You are the only one that can set my snot on fire. You are the only one that can knock me on my ass in mid-sentence. You are the only non-narcotic drug for me. That night I slept, better than I had in days. Although I awoke in my neighbors back yard, I was fully rested. Thank you my darling Nyquil. We shall never part again.

Guess what's in the package

When I came home from shopping today I grabbed the mail. There was a package in there. Huh. I didn't remember ordering anything. I deduced that it had to be for Boy #3. I wrestled my mail, my cup of mocha, some of my groceries and said package into the house. Upon further investigation, actually looking at the recipient label, it had daughter-in-law #2's maiden name on it. Huh. She had lived here at one time so it wasn't a big surprise.
After unloading this weeks provisions, extra provisions, in case it never stops snowing, I called daughter-in-law #2. Boy #2 answered,
"Why are you calling my wife and not me? Don't you care about me anymore?"
My response,
"I do care about you, I love you. I just overlook you now because you harbor my beloved grandson and I received a package for your wife."
In the background I could hear grandson #1 babbling and cartoons on the TV. Boy #2 asked me,
"A package? What's in it?"
"Well it isn't see through and I didn't open it. But it's in an envelope."
"Who's it from?"
"Uhhh, it just says VS."
"B what?"
"V as in Victor, S as in Sam."
"C what?"
If you know this kid of mine, then you know this would have gone on forever but I nipped it in the bud,
"I know you're doing this on purpose, tell your wife I have a package over here."
I must have been on speaker because I heard daughter-in-law #2 ask,
"What's in it?"
Boy #2 asked me what it felt like. I really had no particular plans for the rest of the day so I played 'guess what's in the package'. I started to feel up the envelope,
"Okay, I want to say it's clothing because it's soft. But wait. There's a hard thing in there, like a wire. It's U-shaped. Oh there's another one. Could it be under-wire? I think it's a bra. It's a bra. There's a bra in this package."
And I heard daughter-in-law #2 say,
"Oh that's right, I remember ordering it now."
Boy #2 said,
"VS as in Victoria Secret?"
"Yep."
Who doesn't love a good mystery? I told boy #2,
"I'll have your brother drop it off after work one day this week."
"Yeah mom. Have my brother drop off my wife's bra."

Mo Fo No No Na Na Ha Ha Ho Ho Sue's Writing Challenge

I'm challenging myself, so writer friends, don't freak out. I haven't been writing. I could go into a whole litany of excuses but I will spare you.

The dog and I haven't been going on our morning walks for about 2 weeks now. I blame myself. I blamed the holidays, the rainy weather and my sinuses. Today we marched out the door.
Into the snow and ill equipped. It's just a light snow here in Northeast, Ohio, you can still see the grass poking through. So I wore my regular shoes. I found out they have no traction whatsoever. I pulled some muscles. Also, I inadvertently impaired my hearing and peripheral vision.
You have to bundle up when walking in the snow or you'll freeze your ass off. And speaking of asses. That homeless man on The Day After Tomorrow was right when he said to stuff your clothes with newspaper and plastic bags to keep warm. When the dog pooped and I took the plastic bag out of my back pocket, my right ass cheek felt an instant chill.
I also had a hood on, then wrapped a scarf around my neck, high enough to cover my mouth and flipped up my collar. This resulted in muffled hearing and the peripheral vision problem. So when a woman that lives in one of the condos behind my house said,
"Good morning."
My response was,
"Ahhhh!"
Didn't see her, didn't hear her coming. Didn't see the squirrels until the dog started to run after them, which caused me to slip because my shoes, not boots, had no traction.
I'll be going through my closet this afternoon looking for boots that don't leak, don't make my socks bunch up and of course, traction. Because the dog and I will be marching out the door tomorrow morning and the rest of the weeks to come. Unless it's really windy, below 20°, or raining.