Monday, January 31, 2011


If you've been paying attention you know that the dog has an unhealthy obsession with her mini basketball. An unhealthy obsession that we've encouraged, we named it Wilson. She will now run to find it when we say, "Where's Wilson?" It's 7 degrees outside, we're bored. "Hey?" I asked, "Should we be worried if we find a bloody paw print on that thing and it looks like a face?"
Wilson disappeared, I'm going to say Thursday. The entire family would take turns looking under things. Checking her usual hiding places and discussing at dinner, where the hell is Wilson? The dog didn't look upset but we kept the conversation quiet and referred to Wilson as "it" as we tried to figure out our next move. Can we trick her and buy a new one? Let's face it, we were more upset than the dog. Our new source of amusement went missing. WILSON!!!!!
Boy #3 and I, the stubborn ones, started to look again, Saturday I think. "The last place I saw it was in my room, on the bed." Because not only do I share a bed with a Restless Leg Syndrome/Sleep Apnea husband, but also a dog with her squeak toy.
Boy #3 started hitting the bed thinking it was under the covers somewhere, the dog watched with interest. "We're looking for Wilson, baby, we'll find him." She cocked her head to the side and walked off down the hall.
"You upset her mom."
"Look under the bed, she's fine."
Then, swear to God and all that's holy, the dog jumps up on the bed with Wilson in her mouth and gently lays him between her paws.
Boy #3 was talking to me but I wasn't listening. I just stood there with my mouth open, I was trying to speak but couldn't.
Then syllables started to come out of my mouth, "Wha, di, ha, ti?" I was trying to get Boy #3's attention. He popped up from under the bed and looked at me.
I pointed to Wilson.
Boy #3 was stunned, rocked to his core. "Where did that come from?"
"She just brought it in here, I swear."
"We looked everywhere for that."
"She came from the living room."
"Dad's in there."
We sprang to the doorway, momentarily getting stuck in the door jamb like a 3 Stooges movie and ran down the hall.
"The dog found Wilson, did you see where.................."
We stopped in our tracks, the husband was thumbing through a Victoria Secret Valentine's Day Flyer, he saw nothing, I'm sure of it.
"There's only one explanation mom, you know it and I know it."
I rubbed my temples and eyes, pinched the bridge of my nose and squeezed my eyes shut really tight.
"She's found a doorway to the second dimension."
"Yeah, I know, she's a very smart dog."

Friday, January 28, 2011

What color are you?

I almost got the crying baby out, then I put on my big girl panties and trudge through my next assignment:
Choose a color to write about. Use the thesaurus function on your software or a printed thesaurus at least ten times during this exercise. Work to focus your writing and write tight. Make the assignment no more than 250 words.
Inside the crayon box, the big one with 72 colors, the one that makes all the kids in your first grade class jealous, yep that one with the sharpener on the back, you will find me in the purple section. They call me lavender. I’m a free spirit that goes with the flow, wherever the wind takes me and boy do I smell good. People will stop me and say,
“Hey, I know you, don’t I? Where have I seen you before?”
“The lavender field off of Route 82.”
”Right! That’s it!”
It happens all the time. I don’t want to sound pretentious or anything but I have a calm, mitigating effect on people. I’m easy on the eyes and bring a smile to a face. Sometimes a face that’s had a particularly rough day at work, a face that’s belabored after a trying day with a family member or a face that’s sitting in front of a computer endeavoring to finish what they may think is a difficult task and they are stuck to their chair until they are done.
I roll with the punches and go on forever. You can see me wave ever so gently in the wind and then I can disappear, leaving you wondering what you just saw. Leaving you with a sense of contentment.
“What the heck? Was that a ghost or just a shadow?”
No it was I, and they call me lavender.

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

Please wait. Be back in 2 minute.

Would it be writing genius of me to combine a McDonald's post and a Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude post together or just all together crazy? Can it be done? Sure it can. Will it be good? I don't know.
So when last we spoke I told you the story, in 300 words or less, of my Egg McMuffin Friday. Being limited to 300 words or less because it was my assignment some things were left out of that morning. Some things that were probably best left unsaid, especially with it being my my first assignment and all. I used the word pee twice, had to change damn to darn and hell was in there too, I didn't need to bring up my bra strap like I'm going to now. Don't worry Erv, it won't be that bad, the entire post is not about your sisters bra.
On my way to McDonald's, remember scarf wrapped around my neck 27 times, big leather coat and gloves, I felt my bra strap slide down my shoulder. This was shortly after I left the house and I knew it would have to stay there, uncomfortably on my shoulder until I got to work. It was unsettling because there was no way to get to it. I began to wonder,
"Which bra did I put on this morning?" I keep the uncomfortable ones in the back of the drawer.
"Maybe one of my 'good' bra's has crossed over to 'uncomfortable' I hate when that happens."
I continued on my way to my glorious breakfast with my bra strap askew, glancing at my passengers side where the husband shirts lay in a heap waiting to be taken to the Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dudes. That is my after work errand, there's a better chance of seeing him in the evening and what better way to start off the weekend than with an encounter with Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dudes grin like a prison guard in a Chuck Norris movie? My Friday dragged on like most Friday's do and at 4:30 I made my escape. Checking to make sure the bra was is place before donning my winter wear.
"I have to check that bra when I get home." I made a mental note.
I arrive at my most favorite place in the world as a blogger, grabbed the husbands shirts and marched in. Huh, where is everyone? And when I say everyone, it's where are the two of them?
Oh, look there's a note being held down with a stapler right next to the cash register. "Please wait. Be back in 2 minute."
The angel on my right shoulder said, "You should stay and watch that cash register for dweedle dee and dweedle dum, it's only 2 minute." I waited. I waited longer than 2 minute when the devil on my left shoulder said, "Isn't it about time to go home and start your weekend? Seriously, I'm sure they have the cash register locked and who is going to mess with the Scary Asian Dry Cleaning Dude, would you?"
The little devil with the pitch fork had a point. Although he's probably the one that slid my bra strap down my shoulder this morning.

Friday, January 21, 2011

I’ll scrape those windows until my fingers bleed

Here is my first writing assignment. I had five beginning phrases to pick from, tell a short story with 300 words or less in five minutes. I submitted it and am awaiting the evaluation. I'm putting my thick skin on now. Mommy.
They called it a near miss, but I called it poor planning on my part. It was Egg McMuffin Friday, my reward for dragging my butt out of bed five days in a row and getting to work on time. Several things factor into accomplishing this goal, a quick shower, the dog taking a quick pee, a great cup of coffee, minimal conversation with the rest of the household, the contacts going in without incident, a good hair day, the moon in the seventh house and Jupiter aligning with Mars. When this happens, drive-thru here I come.
I had my one sided conversation with the quick peeing dog, “You be a good girl today, mommy has to go to work.” She cocked her head to the side, wagged her tail and conveyed to me that all would be well. Satisfied that she had the house under control, I wrapped my scarf around my neck several times, put on my coat and gloves, grabbed my purse and opened the door. “Son of ………….” I knew it was too good to be true, I was moving a break-neck Egg McMuffin speed, I had to have forgotten something. Snow. Four inches of freshly fallen snow. I looked back at the dog, “I forgot to start the car, now I have to scrape if I’m going to make it to my Egg McMuffin. It’s what? Fifteen degrees out there?” I thought of that delicious Egg McMuffin and the large piping hot mocha cappuccino with caramel, “I’ll scrape those windows until my fingers bleed, this is my reward darn it and I shall have it come hell or high water, or a frozen windshield.”

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

It just popped open on it's own

"You have to take my truck to work tomorrow, I'm taking your car in to get the trunk fixed."

My trunk? Why that hasn't worked since summer, June I believe. I've adjusted my life in such a way that I don't need a trunk anymore. What will I do with a fully functional trunk?
It popped open while we were out of town, just popped open on it's own and it took the husband several tries to get it to stay closed. "Don't open that until I get it looked at." Yes that was June. I remember now. Are our lives that busy that we can't sit at a dealership wait for our car to be fixed? Apparently.
We went out of town again in September, suitcase in the back seat. While driving home the husband pulled over, "What?"
"The trunk just popped open."
"Get the hell outta here."
We got out of the car, "Hey, look there's your new shoes we've been looking for all this time." I was excited. "I never thought to look for them in the trunk, funny isn't it?"
"Hold the shoes, I'll close the trunk."
When he was satisfied the trunk was secure we continued on our way. "Don't open that until I get it looked at." Yes that was September.
Now my trunk is fixed because the husband sat at the dealership for an hour and a half. He took a vacation day.
I'll need to adjust my way of life for the better, I'm sure. I can put my groceries in the trunk now and I have a place to transport the dead bodies again. It's a win/win.

I have enrolled in a creative writing class which starts tomorrow, I'm very excited about it. I'm telling all that read my blog so I push myself to achieve greatness. I won't settle for anything else. But on the off chance I have a bad day I will post this picture of a baby crying on FaceBook and you can offer words of encouragement if you would like. I also have no idea how much time it will take out of my day so I'm not sure when I will be able to post. Be patient, I'm sure the posts will get much better.

Friday, January 14, 2011

One of these things is not like the other, one of these things just isn't the same.

Generally I like to sit by myself when I go to lunch, find a secluded table, eat and write. Problem was, I walked into McDonald's with a blank slate in my brain. 'I have to sit by someone weird.' I told myself. Eureka! A table full. A table full of a really out of place, over dressed, family, 3 generations of the entitled. And when I sat near them, they kicked it up a notch.

'Awesome, please try to impress me.' Inside voice. In fact my inside voice was going a mile a minute.

I quickly arranged my lunch tray. For some reason McDonald's has stopped asking me "for here or to go" and they automatically put my food in a bag. Then I say, "I was planning on staying is that okay?"
"Of course." And they put my bag of food on a tray. I look like a swindler trying to get out of the "for here" tax as I go find a table.

There was grandma and grandpa, mom and dad and two daughters. The daughters had a few years between them, the oldest never stopped texting and the chubby younger one loved every food that came up in conversation. Grandma and mom were bejeweled, made up, half a can of hair spray on each head and in designer clothes, their purses were probably expensive but I'm not schooled in the designer purse world, and every once in a while I could get a whiff of grandma smell. Dad and grandpa discussed at length a deli menu, "The sandwiches are this big. And the Matzah balls.............."

"I love Matzah balls." Chubby girl chimed in.

When the deli menu conversation was exhausted the dad started to try and impress the grandpa with his job. Grandpa didn't seem too interested which made dad try harder. The mom discussed dinner for the weekend, "I thought I'd make a pot pie tomorrow."

"I love pot pie." Of course you do.
One has to wonder why these people ended up in McDonald's when the could have gone to the deli that had sandwiches 'this big' and Matzah balls. It's going to bother me for a little bit. I hope I don't waste too many brain cells mulling this over.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

Someone! Please take the pork chops out of the freezer in the garage!

Forcast: Buckets of snow
Cause: Lake effect
Why: Cuz it's winter
Attitude: Pissy
I ran out of the house this morning knowing it would take me longer to get to work. So I hastily wrote a note and left it on the kitchen counter, "Some one! Please take the pork chops out of the freezer in the garage!" I grabbed my coffee and ran out the door. I didn't even sign it, "Love, mom." I was that stressed. So as I sit eating my lunch I'm really not sure if we are having pork chops or grilled cheese tonight. Bread! I need bread! I must stop for snow storm provisions.......again. Do we need milk? At this point who the hell cares. I'm so over these snow storms.

Anyway, Buckeye is enjoying it. She buries her nose in the snow and eats it.

It is now 9:00 pm, still snowing and we had pork chops.

Monday, January 10, 2011

Help, I've fallen and I can get up but would like some assistance

Anyone? No? Ouch.

See when a child falls, they bounce. When an adult falls, it's kind of like a thud. A child will completely forget they fell almost immediately especially if they are on their way somewhere. Now when an adult goes down with a thud they lay there for a while accessing the damage. And waiting for the rest of the household to come running to their aid. Except in my household.

The husband wasn't feeling well, I made him some hot tea and took a look at the blanket he had wrapped himself in. This is the "living room" blanket, the one we keep handy if we need it. It's also right there for the dog to destroy at her leisure. She has a thing for blankets, especially comforters. I'm certain she thinks we have any endless supply, but we are starting to get low on the ones the kids use to have on there beds. It was time for a new "living room" blanket so I went to the closet. And since I'm a FaceBook addict there is crap all over the place and on my way out of the spare room I tripped over the collage frame I've been meaning to fill with pictures. I almost regained my balance but stepped on the colorful, sports themed comforter and down I went, with a thud of course.

I lay there waiting for something to start to hurt, the shoulder was first, see that went into the wall and then I slid down from there. I'm happy to say I didn't hit my head, so no brain damage, thank God. I began to swear, moan, say ouch, the only movement in the house was the dog trying to find a way over me to get down the hallway. I was sure she was going to get help. The husband was right at the end of the hall in his recliner watching football oblivious to my plight. I could be dying here, unconscious and in a puddle of blood and he'd be wondering if I was going to make him a sandwich.

I got up on my own and managed to walk down the rest of the hall carrying the damn blanket. "Here."


"I got you a new blanket and fell in the hallway."

"I didn't ....."

"I know you didn't."

Things are starting to hurt today, but I think I'll survive. I'll probably start wearing a helmet in the house since I know now I'm on my own and have to protect my brain but also embarrass my family.

Friday, January 07, 2011

When the damn diabetic makes pudding in the wrong bowls

"I see we're throwing caution to the wind again, ay?" A little Canadian lingo there. The husband looked at me with his 'one eyebrow up' look. "I thought you were going to bed."
"You are making a mess. I can't go to sleep knowing there will be pudding splattered everywhere when I wake up. Is that chocolate pudding dripping down between the dishwasher and counter? This is going to be worse than I thought. You're making vanilla too?"
Most people are going to bed at 11:00pm ish and not clanging around in the kitchen but that's when the damn diabetic makes pudding in the wrong bowls.
"So you're making parfaits then? How can you not stir neatly? Why does half of it have to be on the counter? Look at my counter, look at it."
A 10 second stare down began. And we started to speak to each other in hush tones, with our eyes squinted and our teeth clenched, "I'll clean it up, go to bed."
"I can't go to sleep knowing you may go into a diabetic coma. That's something that's needs to be addressed quickly and every one's in bed."
"I'm only having one in this small glass."
"Then you will save one for me for lunch tomorrow?"
"I'm going to bed."
"Good night."

Tuesday, January 04, 2011

I might need a dog therapist

I took the dog for a walk yesterday, she needed to get out of the house. She doesn't seem to be doing stir crazy well. We exchange Christmas cookies with our next door neighbors and Buckeye and their dog, her boyfriend, exchange gifts. Now, we have banned squeak toys from our house, we just don't see the point. After raising three boys with annoying, noisy toys we put our foot down with the squeaks.
Her boyfriend presented her with a squeak basketball. We let it go because when she opened it the fun ensued. Maybe being stuck in the house during the blessed holiday season has messed with her head slightly because she grabbed the ball, it squeaked and she freaked. She heard the squeak and stopped in her tracks with a WTF look on her face. This went on for days, a continued amusement for the entire family. Then her attitude toward the ball started to change. She started to carry it around with her everywhere, ever so carefully so's not to squeak it. It was never out of her sight, becoming an object of her affection. It was now hers and her boyfriends baby. When Erv, and you never trust Erv, came over on New Years Day, she carried her ball/baby and cried the whole evening. Trying to find a place to hide it so Erv wouldn't get it. She brought it to bed with us that night and we, of course rolled over it several time during the night to awake with a start to a squeak. It's too late to ban this ball, she has an unhealthy obsession with it. Stir crazy I tell you. The boys are having their fun with her, they squeeze it when she's not looking and she comes running. "Where's your baby? Get your ball!" But they don't have time to take her for a walk. Huh.
"Mom, she thinks it's her baby."
"Did you get a picture?"
"We have to take a video, put it on YouTube."
This is when I stepped in to introduce reason and logic into the situation.
"We have to name it Wilson."