So Anyway...There I Was....

*Sunny Girl peeks out from her Happy Place and looks around for a sec....

2011-01-11T04:18:00.002-05:00

Humm...lessee....

Apparently our eyelashes aren't thick enough, so we need to buy medicine and/or some kinda cosmetic fix for that.

Some guy...a Captain in the U.S. Navy made smutty flicks for the troops aboard his ship. What's his name? Honors...? Hey...that's pretty funny!

OO. This isn't good. A man shot and killed a bunch of people and no one seems to know why. Looks like he was trying to assassinate some politcal girl. Wow. A lot of talk about that.

Because of this shooting, a couple of political boys are saying they are carrying guns to protect themselves. Really? What are they gonna do? Pull those guns after they've been shot? I don't get it. Even if they aren't dead after being shot, wouldn't they be in shock? Are they gonna have the wherewithal, if they aren't dead/unconscious, to be able to draw a bead and return fire? Protect themselves? I'm confused.

Hmmm. People are saying a woman named Sarah Palin said something about "cross-hairs" and "lock-n-load" so she's responsible for this other woman getting shot. But then, someone speaking for her said she didn't really mean those things relating to a gun. What she really meant was relating to a tool used for surveying land. Heh, heh. Sounds a little like "wardrobe malfunction". You know, what you saw or heard really wasn't what you saw or heard. No really. Because WE say it, you must believe it!

Now that I think about it, I saw this Sarah Palin on TV down in my burrow. I saw her hunting caribou for food. She must be using those terms from what she knows: she lives in a place where a bunch of people hunt. With guns. But I can't figure out why that makes her responsible for this guy's actions. I thought if someone commits murder, THAT person is responsible.

And while I'm thinking....heh.....thinking.....can't ol' Sarah say what she wants because of Freedom of Speech? Don't we still have that here in America? Don't we still have the right to bear arms? I know the intent of the right to bear arms was when our militia in the early years of this country needed arms to protect us from the British, but isn't that right still around? Did something change? If one person uses that "right" for evil, is someone else to blame?

I'm so confused and my brain hurts now from looking around and trying to think and figure this world out. I'm looking around now and I see my shadow, so I think I'll just go back underground; to my Happy Place where there are bunnies and funnies and laughter and leave all this important stuff to others who can figure it out.

I Gotta Get Me One'a Those.

2009-08-14T17:46:00.002-04:00

Funny, but I was just thinking today that I'd love to drive one of those lawn mowers. You know, the kind you sit on that has two arms....and they whip around real fast in a tight little circle. I bet it's like riding a Tilt-a-Whirl while mowing the grass. Rather like being an adult with permission to play. Because playing is not dignified, you know.

My neighbors are a delightful family from El Salvador. Being the only English-speaker in the building, they asked me to tutor their six-year old son. And so I did. Amazingly enough, and with much advice, help and love from my friends, the boy passed his kindergarten year with a little help from me and we've become friends. So when he knocks on my door and asks if I want to play, the answer is, of course...YES!

Tonight the boy knocked on my door with the familiar question. Honestly, I really wasn't up to riding bikes.....but then I saw it. The boy had a brand-new scooter!! Oh, maaaan...I've always wanted to ride one of those!

So off we went. We raced. I rode a pony. He rode a rocket. We shot each other with invisible ray-guns. Flames shot from the rear of his rocket as my pony put her shields up and avoided the oil slicks and water canon he shot at me. We made up the rules as we went along.

...and then he said it. "You wanna try?" The boy proffered his scooter. 'well duh!', the kid in me said. The adult in me hesitated. We were in public. That would be sooo undignified. The kid in me won out. MAN, can that thing move!! Then he said, "are you gonna get one? They're for little kids, but you could get one."

I'm gonna think about it. No guts, no glory, right?

We All Know Joe Pesci's Observation Of The Drive-Thru From Lethal Weapon 2

2009-08-14T15:38:00.002-04:00

....so this afternoon at lunch I drop off a script at the pharmacy then do a drive-thru at McDonalds. I really didn't think my order was that hard. Quarter Pounder with cheese with NO BUN. I enunciate, because I know this can throw people. Especially through a speaker. The order is read back. Great. Of course, back at work, I open the box which holds a bun with cheese and some pickles, onion, ketchup and mustard. Wow. Did they really think I was going to pay them 7 bucks and some change for this meal?

I used to just order the whole sandwich to save myself from just this kind of hassle, but, see, here's the thing. The cheese sticks to the bun. Then you're left without your cheese and white bread crumbs stuck to the burger. This requires scraping. So the dilemma at the drive-thru is, ...do i want a QP with no cheese I gotta scrape, or should I risk it, hoping to end up with a glorious burger w/o the bun? Picky, I know...but I can't eat bread. And ordering fast food is only done on a rare occasion in the interest of time.

I save my sad sandwich and, with the receipt, I head out again after work. At the drive-thru PHARMACY, I pick up my volatile-mood-calming-meds. I show pharmacy guy my sandwich and tell him the story. He thinks this is funny and says, "yeah, well, that's why they are over there, and we are over here."
oooo you better hope this order is right, my good man. we ARE at the drive-thru here....I think to myself.
I hold up my volatile-mood-calming-meds to him and say, "they are lucky I don't care."

Across the street I go to Mcdonalds and walk into the restaurant. I can see this just won't work at the drive-thru. I will now shorten this story to say that it really was a tragic experience. Three employees and one manager later, I see them all standing with their gloved hands, heads bent over my sandwich, conferring with one another as they assemble a QP with cheese and no bun. They are discussing and shaking their heads in uncertainty as they make this foray into uncharted territory. For the world, they looked like 3 surgeons standing over a patient and sincerely struggling as if they'd never assembled a QP with cheese in all their lives. The "no bun" part really threw them.

It was so painful to watch that, from now on, I PROMISE, I will be eating scraped burgers.

Ah, Yes, One Step Closer To The Straightjacket And The Padded Cell....

2009-07-23T17:59:00.005-04:00

Wow, okay, so I haven't posted in 6 months. That's because I discovered I could fit everything I have to say in a status update on Facebook. It also took me that long to figure out how to import this blog to my FB page. Well, I've figured it out. I still haven't much to say, so I thought I'd update you on my sleep thrashing. It is getting ridiculous.

As I said before, I'm not aware I'm doing this but I wake up to total destruction of the bed and sometimes anything near the bed that happens to be in the way of this phenomenon. I'm not sure when this started, but I've decided it's most likely the result of the FM. I lie too long in one position and the painful trigger points are causing me to flop around like a fish out of water. It's the only thing I can think of, short of asking someone to sit up all night to watch me and take notes....and that ain't happenin'. Neither is a video camera.

Waking up is always interesting. I'd just gotten used to the fact that the bedding, including the bottom sheet are strewn all over the floor, but lately I've been waking up across the bed as well. One morning with my head and pillow on the nightstand...another morning, my head on the floor and my body on the bed. I finally had enough when I woke up across the bed facing the headboard and wondering who moved my bed next to the dresser. Really. I thought that.

So today I saw a long pillow in a catalog and ordered it. A really really really really long pillow. Eleven feet long. It's billed "for FM patients" and it wraps around your entire body for support, much like the wee-tiny ones they use on preemies in incubators at the hospital. Either it's gonna work, or it will be just one more thing to sleep-pummel and land on the floor in tatters. I sure hope the workmanship is good.

I Really Need To Learn To Use Smaller Words

2009-01-30T11:44:00.002-05:00

"Hi, I'm with Direct Energy...."

"Hi, I don't want to be solicited."

"Oh, I'm not soliciting, I'm just signing people up....."

"I still don't want to be solicited....."

"Um, yes ma'am. Have a good day."

I'm not sure which is worse...being solicited or being called Ma'am.

Wisdom Trumps Experience.

2008-12-27T14:07:00.003-05:00

"HOW does an American WWII veteran reach 83 yrs old and not know Rock, Paper, Scissors?!" , I asked my stepfather in amazement.

"I don't know. I've seen it, but never knew the game."

"Ok, fine, here's how it goes. You only need to know 3 things", I say demonstrating with my hand the shapes it needs to make and explaining the meaning of each one.

And off we went. We made decisions the whole Christmas weekend in this manner.

READY? ONE! TWO! THREE!.....Cool! I win ownership of the remote control!

ONE! TWO! THREE! Dang! Guess I gotta say grace at dinner.

ONE! TWO! THREE! Sweet! I get a shoulder rub.

So last night at 11 p.m. Stepdaddy says to me, "time to put the rabbit away."

"Oh, right. Forgot."

When I am home at Mommy's, the rabbit lives on the porch. He doesn't run away, he just makes his home there and in the interest of his safety from the nocturnal creatures that roam the night, he gets locked into his cage from 11 p.m. when Stepdaddy goes to bed until about 5 a.m. when Stepdaddy gets up. He willingly does this chore since my normal bedtime is 9 p.m. and I don't get up until around 8 or so. When I am home, the boy gets the run of his fenced off world indoors and there is no lock down time for him, so he's a little put out when we go to Mommy's, but oh well. At least he gets to remain free for as long as he does because Stepdaddy is so good to him.

So there we were at 11p p.m. last night. I was still up because T.V. was too good to put down, so Stepdaddy reminded me of the chore.

"Ok, you wanna put him away?"

"No, he's your rabbit."

"I know, but he likes it when you put him away."

"Then he's going to stay out on the porch all night."

"Fine! READY? ONE! TWO! THREE!" I held up my 'rock' for him to see and looked to see his hand held out and his middle finger extended.

.....out into the cold December night I went to fetch my rabbit.

I'm Having Trouble Envisioning Spitting Amish.

2008-11-16T15:39:00.003-05:00

My first quilting class. Who knew you could sew your finger to the back?

"It's okay, honey, you'll get a callous there."

Oh Yeah! That's why I signed up! I hear the guys totally dig callous-ey finger tips.

"And if you get blood on your quilt ladies, just spit on it right away and that should take care of it!"

She's kidding, right? RIGHT??!

Should I decide to throw my work in frustration, the quilting hoop will give it a nice frisbee effect.

Never A Dull Moment Crossing The Street Around Here

2008-11-03T17:15:00.004-05:00

Walking to work means simply crossing the street, but my imagination is always challenged by the detritus scattered about the street, gutters and lawns. I mean, really, what is happening when I am asleep, because I will see stuff lying around that hadn't been there the day before, making me wonder what in the heck it was I missed.

Here's a working list of some of the stuff. It is by no means exhaustive:

CD players
beer bottles
those tiny 1-shot liquor bottles
purple latex gloves used by first-responders
condoms
money

I could go on, but you get the idea.

Ok, I can see booze bottles being thrown out of car windows as they pass by...

Latex gloves? How'd I sleep through the sirens and flashing lights? Who died out front? Condoms? Used condoms? What. People are having sex while driving down a 35 mph street? Tossing them out the window when they're done? Can't see it. Having sex on my front lawn right by the police station? This one has me puzzled.

And I couldn't begin to tell you where the rest of the monster is in the above picture. The rest of him is probably a couple blocks down. The road-kill around here is enough to make you want to stop in the middle of the road and take it's picture.

It Sounded Good On Paper...

2008-11-01T18:48:00.003-04:00

The most dangerous chocolate cake recipe in the world!

5 MINUTE CHOCOLATE MUG CAKE
1 Coffee Mug

4 tablespoons all purpose flour (that’s plain flour, not self-rising)

4 tablespoons sugar

2 tablespoons baking cocoa

1 egg

3 tablespoons milk

3 tablespoons oil

3 tablespoons chocolate chips (optional) some nuts (optional)

Small splash of vanilla

Add dry ingredients to mug, and mix well . Add the egg and mix thoroughly.

Pour in the milk and oil and mix well.

Add the chocolate chips (if using) and vanilla, and mix again.

Put your mug in the microwave and cook for 3 minutes on high.

The cake will rise over the top of the mug, but don’t be alarmed! (..yyyyeeahhh....)

Allow to cool a little, and tip out onto a plate if desired.
EAT! (this can serve 2 if you want to share!)

And why is this the most dangerous cake recipe in the world? Because now we are all only 5 minutes away from chocolate cake at any time of the day or night!

Warning: You Are About To Wade Through Sentimental GLOP! TURN BACK NOW!!

2008-10-22T17:04:00.006-04:00

We all know of music that has the ability to touch that something inside of us. I don't care what genre. There are many songs, melodies, etc. that have the ability to grab hold of us and evoke emotions, images, etc. You know what I'm talking about. But today it happened at a very inconvenient time. In the produce section of the grocery store. I was picking up carrots for the boy at lunch today. A mundane task. A mundane mood. La Dee Da....and then I heard it. A song I had'nt heard in almost 30 years. The surrounding noise almost drowned it out, but there it was. The ghostly strains of a song that evoked emotions in me. I couldn't quite remember it. What was the bridge? I caught myself almost loudly shushing people around me, so desperate was I to grab hold of this song before it disappeared again. I wanted to look it up when I got home. What was that title?

I quickly stepped to the next aisle causing a woman to ram her cart into the heels of another shopper. Whoops. Sucks to be you. Sorry. I hurry on. More snatches of the song.....

Yes, I hear it now. Lets see....I was 9 years old when this song came out. Why am I feeling the same emotions now as I did back then? How could a 9 year old possibly relate to this song? Was it the melody? The gravelly longing in the voice? Perhaps. I'm not going to dissect myself psychologically here, but for some reason, the same emotions and images of yearning and loneliness appeared inside me.

...Please come to Boston for the spring time.

I'm stayin' here with some friends and they've got lots of room.

You can sell your paintings on the sidewalk

By a cafe where I hope to be workin' soon.

Please come to Boston.

She said, "No.

Would you come home to me?"

The beginning of this song somehow grabs my soul, puts wings on it and begins to take off....I'm no longer in the grocery, but on a Boston sidewalk in the Springtime.

Please come to Denver with the snow fall.

We'll move up into the mountains so far

That we can't be found.

And throw "I love you" echoes down the canyon

And then lie awake at night until they come back around.

Please come to Denver.

She said, "No.

Boy, would you come home to me?"

....sigh...I feel the cold wind on my face....a longing ache grows within me.....

By the time I get to the U-Scan check-out aisle I'm inwardly cursing the machine for telling me too loudly to SCAN MY CARD....SHUT UP!! SHUT UP!! I CAN'T HEAR!!

Then the coda hits:

Now this drifter's world goes 'round and 'round

And I doubt that it's ever gonna stop,

But of all the dreams I've lost or found

And all that I ain't got.

I still need to lean to

Somebody I can sing to.

THAAAT did it. Oh, but he's not done yet.

Please come to L.A. to live forever.

California life alone is just too hard to build.

I live in a house that looks out over the ocean.

And there's some stars that fell from the sky

And livin' up on the hill.

Please come to L.A.

She just said, "No.

Boy, won't you come home to me?"

I am standing stock still holding up the line because I am soaking in this song that has my emotions a roiling miasma that I'm quite sure was visibly oozing out of me all over the floor. So strong were the emotions in me at that point, I was sure people could see the gloppy goo all around me. The final note of the song is keening; lonelier than the howl of a wolf.

Clean-up in the U-Scan Checkout Aisle.

Go ahead. Click the link and listen for yourself.

Dave Loggins - Please Come To Boston - 1974 - DJ Single

Weekend At Mommy's

2008-10-13T20:09:00.004-04:00

Ah, yes, another blissful weekend at Mommy's. As I was once again getting ready for bed (read: tearing it apart so I could be comfortable) I told her my sleep-thrashing was becoming more bizarre.

"Oh yes?" said she as she began clearing the nightstand of her pretties so I wouldn't break them again in my sleep.

"Yes," I say. "One morning I woke up with my pillow and head on the nightstand and the fabric on the lamp shade was in shreds."

"WHY??"

"How do I know? I'm asleep. When I wake up in the morning, the mystery is there before me."

Luckily for me I didn't sleep-destroy anything while I was there but was quite amused on the morning I left as I watched her make my bed.

I don't make my bed. Never have. Mommy's never been too tough on me about it, but on the mornings I leave I always offer to strip what's left of the bed or make it up, whichever she prefers. If she wants to wash the sheets, she'll let me strip it, but doesn't let me help make it because of....um....shall we say.....my lack of bed-making skills. She finally dropped the pretense of 'letting me make my bed' because she always had to go behind me and re-make it, hence we don't even pretend anymore. She just makes it. So I lay on the other bed and watched her make the bed for my next visit. I was amused because she wasn't so much making it as she was putting it back together like a puzzle.

"HOW", she exclaimed in exasperation, "Did you get the bedspread upside down?? Now I know why you never make your bed...it's not a chore, it's a whole project!"

Sigh....it's a mystery for the ages, mommy....it's a mystery.

Weekend At Mommy's And The Livin' Is Easy

2008-10-13T19:58:00.004-04:00

Nowhere is there safety and contentment as when in Mommy's arms.

My Veracity Is Saved By The Chicken!

2008-10-04T16:19:00.004-04:00

AH HA! AH-AH-AH-HAAAAA!!!! SEE? SEE? I wasn't making it up!!

Today as I delivered my papers, I came to the property line where I remembered that this was where I'd tripped over that chicken last week. One does not forget the place one trips over a chicken. As I looked up, I saw the little bugger through the branches. So I readied my cell cam and came around the bush, and VOILA! Chicky turned on his little chicken heels and RAN. So I give you a picture of a chicken butt.

I'm pretty darned pleased with myself about now.

Guess You'll Just Have To Take My Word For It

2008-09-27T17:02:00.007-04:00

...As we all know, the weirdness just seems to find me. God's idea of humor, I guess. I tell Him, "if you're gonna keep bringing weirder weirdness my way, you're gonna have to knock it off because I'm becoming less credible by the day".

Okay, fine. Here goes....

...So anyway....there I was.....delivering my weekend papers when I tripped over this chicken.....

Yes, I have a paper route on the weekends.

Yes, I deliver in the 'hood, complete with heat-seeking helicopters, sirens, bodies and drug dealers......

.....and.......chickens.

I swear. It really was a chicken. It was black and white speckled with a red comb and orange feet and it went BA-GOCK!! when I tripped over it.

So then I say out loud to no one...."Cool!"

Then I think.....blog post!

Then I think....I better get a picture on my cell phone because no one will believe this. So I turn around and aim the phone and the chicken is walking away.....fast.

Long story short.....there I was.....running around someones yard, neon-orange-strapped paper carrier bag around my shoulders, cell phone stretched out at arm's length.....chasing a chicken that refuses to stand still for his picture.......

Notice, I have no picture.

You can't make this stuff up.

Location, Location, Location!

2008-09-21T15:52:00.004-04:00

This would be the view out of my window. Welcome to the 'hood. Bless him, Father, he's one of Yours.

But Mo-oom-eeeeee! All My Friends Are Doing It!!

2008-08-17T12:19:00.004-04:00

Mommy tells me I'm a "quarter horse in a mile race....you never finish anything!" While this is not entirely true I really cannot protest. I simply tell her I like to sample life. I think this is more accurate. I find something that looks interesting and I want to try it. I partake of whatever the hare-brained idea du jour is and when I am satisfied I merely move on to the next bright idea I come up with. I'm not interested in becoming expert in anything. I get bored, I move on. Next.

Mommy wouldn't mind so much, I don't think, if she weren't invariably dragged into my hare-brained schemes when they become a problem. She's the one who ends up having to help clean up my messes.

The last bright idea I had was to go to Brazil. I ended up with malaria and seven years later I am still paying the price and so is she. I remember visiting one weekend and when she couldn't get me up for church, the next thing I know she's popping a thermometer in my mouth then she and step daddy are pulling me out of bed, dressing me and transporting me to the nearest ER. Inconvenient. It all went downhill from there. So 7 years, many missed days at work and one bankruptcy later, I'm at the place where mommy is having to do my finances for me. The fibromyalgia, triggered by the malaria has altered my life in such drastic ways, it is unfathomable. The brain fog has left me unable to do the simple math necessary to handle money so she budgets it for me. Great system. I email her my pay stub and back comes the bi-weekly budget. Great for me. Sucks for her. But hey, my checking account is so far in the black I'm lovin' life. I've never had so much money in my life. I simply do what's on the paper because if I don't I know I'm in for what I call a "Budda-caliber lecture." Budda was our pet name for her father and that man could lecture like no body's business (read: beat a dead horse). This threat is enough to make me toe the line.

Even better, I've discovered in recent days that removing gluten from my diet has brought my health back to the place where I can stay full time at work and bring in a full paycheck. I now have enough energy to not only put in a full day's work, but some energy left over for my brain to come up with new ideas. Mommy is not happy. When I announce a new idea, I can feel the tension coming over the wires. At these announcements her reaction is to go through emotional stages much like a death causes the stages of grief. First there's the tense silence as the information is absorbed. Then fear. Then protest: all the reasons why it's a bad idea. Then anger. Then fear again. Then the realization I'm gonna do it anyway despite her objections. Finally acceptance; hoping for the best.

So I've learned I really must be wise in how I spring my ideas on her. The latest is a doozie. I thought it best done over the phone so she couldn't kill me. I was talking with a co-worker who is looking for a motorcycle because she wants to learn to ride with her husband and brothers and friends. I've never been interested in learning such a thing, but the more she talked, the more the idea grew into beautiful proportions in my mind. Yeah....yeah....I could see me doing that. It's not the stigma it was before....a woman riding a motorcycle....the stereotypes are no longer there.....oh yeah...I can feel the wind in my hair now.....hmm...I bet it would feel like flying....I can feel the sunshine all around me....

Then reality hit me. Mommy has the purse strings. Well, there's nothing for it...she's gonna have to find out sometime. Conveniently enough, she called me about an hour later to discuss the budget. Now is the time, I thought, because the truth is, if this is still interesting to me a week from now, It'll be years before I have enough saved to buy the thing and that'll be plenty of time for the whole idea to sink in for her to reach acceptance more easily.

So after we took care of the budget business, I said to her, "Mommy, you know Charlene here at work who is going to bunny-sit for me when I go on vacation?"

"Yes"

"Well, she's getting a motorcycle so she can go riding with her husband and brothers and friends."

I can feel the tension immediately as the realization hits her where this is going. There is momentary silence. Then she says,

"So? What has that got to do with YOU??"

i stay silent.

"Oooohhh no you don't!!! You can just tell Charlene NO BECAUSE IF YOU DON'T I QUIT!! YOU CAN DO YOUR OWN BUDGET!!"

Wow. Dude. She totally sped through the first three stages within a matter of a split second and hit anger at astounding speed. I bet it's a world record.

It Isn't Like I Go Looking For Weirdness...It Just Seems To FIND Me.

2008-08-16T07:43:00.004-04:00

My favorite part of the day is the evening. The day's work is done and it's time to unwind. It's peaceful. The other evening as the sun was going down, I sat here at my computer. That's strange, I think, I can hear someone outside with a weed whacker. Now that in itself is not unusual, but the time of day was. I guessed maybe they were doing the edges to get ready for a lawn mowing the next day......except we haven't had any rain. Grass is brown....we don't need the lawn cut. Oh well, they are meticulous around here, I think to myself. One thing I'll say for these apartments in the midst of the 'hood~ they keep them manicured. I can't complain. Nevertheless, I get up to look out the window. I hear them on the side of the building and want to see why they would be trimming around my garden out there since the grass hasn't grown. I also wanted to make sure my garden hose wasn't interfering. I see nothing. Hmm.

I may be neurotic, but paranoia is not in the mix, for which I am thankful. So I immediately dismiss it and sit back down at the computer. Minutes later something goes flashing by my window. Hmm. Must've been a bird. A cardinal. I thought I saw red. I stare a few seconds longer out the window and decide to go watch T.V. I stop in the bedroom, change into my nightie and wander into the living room and pop on the television. I settle into my favorite T.V-watching position: lying on the floor. I watch for a bit then begin doing some leg lifts. Might as well make it count. Something goes flashing by the living room window. What the heck? I get up and look outside. There's a frisbee lying in the grass. Oh, the neighbors are playing. Only it's dusk and there is no one out there. Ok, I can still hear the weed whacker guy. He must be around the building, finding things in the bushes. Still can't see him though.

I return to my leg lifts and T.V. watching. I see another movement at the window. My leg lifted high in the air, I see a pair of legs standing outside my window. Nice jeans, I think. Only problem is, I'M ON THE SECOND FREAKING FLOOR!!! HOW CAN SOMEONE BE STANDING OUTSIDE MY WINDOW??

As I've mentioned before, I've gotten my 'duck and run' technique down to perfection. But what does one do when they are already flat on the floor? Well, you flip over onto all fours and power-crawl to the nearest crow bar. That's what you do. On my knees, nightie flapping, rug burning into my knees, I get to the bedroom and grab the crowbar that I keep next to my bed. With FM brain fog I don't dare keep a firearm. Gee, now I have two life -preserving maneuvers in my repertoire. Maybe if I learn a third I could open a Dojo here in the 'hood.

Heart pounding, breathing elevated, adrenaline pumping, I stand upright and press my back against the wall with a tight grip on my crowbar and do a quick glance-around-the-corner-and-back like I've seen them do on the cop shows. Who says T.V. isn't educational? The legs move out of sight. There is a man standing on the little roof covering the outside doorway. I hear a metal ladder against concrete. Suddenly it all becomes clear. The man had been on the roof the whole time blowing out the rain gutters and throwing down whatever had been up there; frisbees and the like.

Now I'm feeling foolish, but also angry. Okay, Sunny girl, just dial down. The man was only doing his job. It wasn't like he was looking in your window. Besides~you've learned a new life-preserving method and now you know what your made of. Anyone needs some knee caps busted, I'm your girl.

I'm Going In For The Taco....Cover Me!

2008-08-02T15:43:00.003-04:00

A few months ago I noticed a new taco wagon had pulled in down the block. It sat in a convenience store parking lot. I was all over it! I placed my order and stood while the kid began to work on the four tacos I'd ordered. While we were waiting he decided to chat me up.

"what is your name?" he asks me in Spanish.

"sorry, I don't understand Spanish. What does that mean?"

"what is your name?"...again in Spanish.

Omg....he's flirting. I want tacos and he's flirting. We play this game for a minute or so until he finally tells me what he is saying. After all...he has time. Problem is.....I'M HUNGRY.

"Sunny".

"where do you live?"

"down there", pointing.

"you like-uh me?"

"yes."

"you like-uh Mexicans?"

"I looove Mexicans! I've been to Cancun!"

His friend in the trailer snorts at this. Judging from this response I conclude Cancun isn't really the whole Mexican experience, but I can concur with this. It probably isn't.

"you like-uh me?"

"yes, I like you."

"you like-uh me??"

"you mean for a boyfriend?"

a very eloquent Latino tilt of the head....meaning yes.

"no...I just want you to cook for me."

The kid tries not to laugh at this because he's trying to remain in flirt-mode, so he changes tacks...

"my friend here likes you....you like-uh heem?

"yes, I like him." Here we go again.

"you want thees for here or to go?"

"to go."

"eat here."

"there's no place to eat."

"pleeeease???"...pleading eyes.

"you gonna eat with me?"

"sure."

Now I decide I need to step back and really look at this situation. I just came for tacos, but now I needed a foothold to firmly close this door. I looked closely at these guys. Ah-ha! I've got it.

"how old are you?"

"my friend is 18", he says indicating him with the spatula in his hand, "and I am.....twentyyyyy.....THREE! yeah.....TWENTY THREE!"

"well, I'm FORTY TWO and old enough to be your mother." "MA-DRE!" You guys are EL NINOS!!!"

The kid begins to argue this when suddenly salvation pulls into the parking lot in the form of a police cruiser. Even better: I know these guys. One of them jumps out and with a look of incredulity on his face he spreads his hands and says, "GET OOOUTTA HERE!!"

"what. why?"

He looks heavenward and throws his hands up as if to say, "God help me, I'm dealing with an idiot."

So I decide to look around. Okay...hmmm....Now I see the bars on the store windows and the drug dealers on the corner. Sheesh. All I saw were tacos.

"okay, okay. Say, these guys both want me to be their girlfriend. Is there any law against that?"

The officer turns to the young men and says something in Spanish. No clue what he said, but I did hear the word "loco." Suddenly, these guys couldn't get rid of me fast enough. While the kid is bagging my order to go I'm standing there with two cops and a cruiser in between me and the drug dealers. One officer's eyes are scanning the perimeter and the other one stares down the dealers while I chat on happily about how good these tacos are gonna be. C'mon, isn't this overkill, guys? I mean, what are they gonna do....bean me in the head with a crack rock? Use a blow gun to dart me in the ass with a hypodermic to get me hooked?

The kid shoves my bagged order at me and I am herded into my car so I can leave.

Okay. So maybe I am naive. I know this. I'm in the 'hood wading through gangs and drug dealers to get at a taco and didn't realize it. But really. Who in their right mind would shoot at a taco trailer? Nobody. Nobody shoots tacos. Of this I'm sure.

D'OH!!

2008-06-07T19:05:00.002-04:00

Speaking via webcam with Canada, she told me of the 6 new additions to her already bursting household. With great delight I said, "OOO! I wanna name one Buckeye!" To which her resident boarder replied:

"Isn't that just like an American....always sticking their nose into other countries' business!"

Etiquette or Lack Thereof?

2008-05-27T19:09:00.002-04:00

Books and newspaper columns are written; debates and arguments rage over etiquette. My brain is so fogged in I'm not sure which way is up anymore so it is with reticence I say that I understand R.S.V.P. to mean, "call if you plan to attend, but also call if you don't plan to attend". Don't know if I'm right or not but better to err on the side of caution......

rrriing....

"hello?"

"hi, is Lisa there?"

"um....hold on......IT'S FOR YOU!!! SOUNDS LIKE SOME OLD LADY!!!"

pause....

"hello?"

"hi, I'm calling to respond to your invitation."

"ok, great, what's your name?"

"Sunny. I won't be able to attend."

"ok, great! See you then!"

"Um....NO...I'm calling because I won't be able to attend."

"you won't?? (read: then why are you calling??) um, okaaay..."

"Thanks. Goodbye."

Okay Sunny Girl, let's review....

The person you just spoke with seems to not only have been the one to teach her kid phone manners, she also seems to think you respond to an invite ONLY if you're going to be there. Hmm.

Etiquette?

Seems 'Lack Thereof" rules the day in that household.

Sleeping. Apparently It's Not Pretty.

2008-05-27T16:29:00.004-04:00

I snore. I know this because I've been told. I've also been told I'm a thrasher. I was informed of this previously-unknown fact at a hospital. I had done one of those sleep studies where they stick wires to your whole body then tell you the next morning whether or not you have apnea. They knocked me out with drugs because I can't sleep "in public" and somewhere in the middle I was awakened to some man shouting at me to "STOP TURNING!!" I came to just enough to realize I was spinning like a crocodile in water, had torn off all the lower wires and had the remaining ones wrapped tightly around my neck.

Okay, so I thrash.

I should've had some clue of this without someone having to tell me simply by the carnage I awake to each morning. Most of the bedding is on the floor along with anything else unfortunate enough to have been left on the night table. But if I didn't know this by now I would've found out this past weekend. I went home.

When I go home I sleep in Mommy's spare bedroom. It is cutely outfitted with two twin beds separated by a night table. On the night table is a lamp and a few little glass pretties set there to make it all even cuter. Well, it's cute until I have to actually sleep.

Now, I realize my body image is skewed. In my mind I'm smaller than I really am. But when it's time to go to sleep in this cute spare bedroom, my body image rapidly becomes realistic. First, I begin the going-to-bed process by un-tucking all bedding, much to Mommy's chagrin. I have to. The bed is more appropriate for either a 10-yr-old or a petite person. I am neither. My feet hang well over the bottom of this bed. Next, I tear open the second bed to get at the other pillow and toss pillow shams and teddy bears onto it. Only after I have destroyed both beds am I ready. I settle in.

Let the thrashing begin.

The next morning, stepping over the bedding on the floor, Mommy tells me not to walk barefoot by the bed.

"I'm not sure I got up all the broken glass", she says shaking her head. "I can't believe I still have to child-proof my house...."

CARROT COMA

2008-05-06T11:43:00.002-04:00

OOOO...THEY said the "F" Wooord!!!!

2008-04-23T16:07:00.005-04:00

Today I learned in a Ken Follet historical fiction set during WW II that the word "snafu" is actually a word which came into use in 1941 and is really an acronym.

S.N.A.F.U......"situation normal: all f***** up"

Now, we can use the word "fouled" which will keep this rated G, but I looked it up online at the Miriam - Webster site. THEY actually USED the R-rated version! Oh! My virgin eyes!!!

Onward marches my education.

Winning Friends & Influencing Folk

2008-03-21T11:44:00.002-04:00

When I was little my father used to warn me to obey or, "I will cloud up and rain all over you."

Which brings me to my point. I'm not feeling so Sunny lately. No, actually, yesterday was more like "Thunderstorm Warning". I'm battling round 3 of the Winter bugs this year and i'm stretched pretty thin temperament-wise. No excuse. But yesterday I think I hit a record by offending and apologizing to four different people. It wasn't like a group-offend thing. I just blazed my way through life, trampling four different people in less than an hour and a half. Some of it was actually a firework-spectacular, complete with hollering and bent-up window blinds which resulted in me being invited into the boss's office this morning. Still have my job. Just one of the ways I know there IS a God. 'Course, when you lose control so publicly that brings out the Junior-High Schooler in your co-workers. The giggling and whispers have gone on since yesterday and I think I heard the name "Rambo" in there somewhere. Hmm. Well, maybe I oughtta be working on the Self-Control end of things today.

I Joined Facebook

2008-03-18T14:38:00.001-04:00

WEll, who KNEW that's where everyone has been hanging out??

It Just Kept Getting Funnier

2008-03-13T15:48:00.002-04:00

Over the years the people in my life have given me their opinion of...well.....me. Usually elicited in the heat of the moment, mind you, but an opinion nonetheless. I like those the best because they are the most honest. Take one of my pastors for example. One of my favorite past times was to get him so frustrated with me it forced...well...let's just say.....real responses from him. I took great delight in trying to make him forget his pastor role and getting him to say what he was really thinking. One day, in an absolutely heroic effort at self-control, he hollered at me....."YOU.....YOU..... ARE SUCH AN....AN.....ENIGMA!" I was afraid to look the word up to see what it meant, but I think it just means he doesn't 'get' me.

And my section chief at work. Always addressing me by my last name, she hollers, "I JUST DON'T KNOW ABOUT YOU" to which I respond, "no ma'am, I don't really know about me either...." Which is true...I don't really understand myself at all most days. Take humor for example. I don't find juvenile humor funny as a rule, but when Canada hits the button to make three chimpanzees with smiley faces covering their groins dance the Can-Can across my screen, it never fails to break me up. And the forwards that make a joke out of sex. Not funny. Not because I'm offended, it just doesn't make me laugh for whatever reason. But she got me again yesterday.

...So anyway....there I was.....hanging out with Canada on the web-cam as we usually do most days when she says, "I just sent you an email and I want you to leave the web-cam on when you open it so I can see your face." I think, 'ut oh' and go ahead with her request. It's a sex joke. Great. But this one cracked me up. It's about a husband who continually pinches his wife's fat and telling her, "if you'd just firm this up we could get rid of your girdles" to which she responds by grabbing HIM and saying, "if you'd just firm this up we could get rid of the gardener, the pool boy and your brother."

Okay, so I think this is funny. I'm laughing. But Canada is saying...."the picture! did you scroll down to the picture?" I say, "well yeah, it's cute..." but it's clear she's not understanding why I'm not responding to the picture the way I am to the joke. The picture is of four male models, shirtless from the waist up. Yeah, great. Beefcake. I didn't think the picture was necessary to make the joke any funnier, but I liked the joke. So now I'm thinking....you know what would be funny..... "I think I'll just forward this to MOMMY!" You know, shock value. That's what would be funny. Mommy would never expect this kind of humor out of me and I take great delight in pushing her buttons as well, so why not?

Even better, Canada is shocked. "You wanna send it to your mother?? Are you sure about that?"

"Well, yeah...I think that'd be pretty funny.

"O-kaaayyy"....uncertain.

So off it goes.

Not two minutes later mommy is flooding my inbox with, "I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU SENT ME THIS!" She'd hit the "reply" button to respond and this time I SAW the picture. Apparently when Canada sent it to me the picture hadn't fully downloaded. oops. My jaw hit the table....I am now looking at the full picture of the full Monty I had just sent my mother.

Okay...now I got some 'splainin' to do....So I pull up both Canada and mommy on voice so I can explain to them simultaneously my....um.....misjudgement.....Mommy says, "YOU'RE SICK. BOTH OF YOU ARE SICK."

Canada says, "SEE, I TRIED TO TELL YOU..."

Mommy: "I showed your stepfather. He thinks your sick too."

Me: "But, um, um, see, I didn't know...."

Mommy: "So I forwarded it to Deb."

Canada: silence.

Me: "Deb? You mean.....your friend Deb?

Canada: "Who's Deb?"

Mommy: "Oh, she's one of the higher-ups in the Diocese of Franciscan Nuns. She's sick too."

I think it was about then that Canada peed herself as she fell off her couch laughing.

It Wasn't An Idle Threat

2008-03-13T15:26:00.003-04:00

Ok, I found the beads. Blue and Pink and plastic and tacky and yes, I really am wearing them although Dumpers is wishing he didn't have to model them for me. No worries...he's well paid in carrots.

Winter As It Was Meant To Be...FINALLY

2008-03-09T14:20:00.007-04:00

WOO HOO! Now THIS is what I've been talking about! REAL honest-to-gosh Winter here in good ol' Cow-lumbus Ohio! First thing I did after digging out my car was make snow angels. That's the real dark picture up above.

And I noticed 3 things.

1. Disaster brings out the best in everyone. God love 'em, but my neighbors came out and helped me dig out my buried car. My neighbor loaned me her snow shovel. People got out on the road to push people along. Even the city bus driver stopped for a minute to help out my idiot neighbor. Finally gave up and went around him...but hey, he tried. Which brings me to point:

2. Let me tell you about my idiot neighbor. The other day the new apt. manager stopped to introduce herself and pointed out to me my neighbor's truck. His two front tires were shredded. I hadn't even noticed. Fast forward to last night. I'm wading through snow knee deep taking out the trash and hear a funny sound. Idiot neighbor is DRIVING on his shredded tires and trying to get back in the driveway. When I had seen his truck was gone I just assumed it had been towed. Oh no. That's way too normal in my world. See? I don't even have to leave my house. The weirdness of life just seems to find me. I watched the parade of weirdness from my window last night. You can see from the pictures. I mean...doesn't the weather just scream STAY HOME?? Emergency vehicles and other people kept doing u-turns because they couldn't get through. It was quite entertaining watching people spin their tires and turn their vehicles in circles. And:

3. FINALLY! We can stop talking about the blizzard of '78!

Guest Blogger Judy

2008-02-27T18:22:00.003-05:00

Today I am profoundly sad…

I lost one of my best friends today. She was one of the kindest, most gentle, loving females I’ve ever known. Truly we had mutual admiration for each other. She was always there for me. We went through a lot of years together. Good times and bad. In good times we shared ice cream and watched TV together. During bad times, she would wipe my tears and sit with me for hours. A lot of times we would fall asleep in the same bed together, just being company for each other.

She wasn’t demanding, always willing to go with the flow. We took long walks together. She loved that. When I had a serious surgery done, she was instrumental in my recovery. She would urge me to go for a walk, no matter how short, just get up and walk. I remember the first time we walked after the surgery. We had gone maybe the length of 3 condo units - not buildings, just 3 units. I was so exhausted at that point that I wasn’t sure I could get back to my front door. She gently, but firmly led me back. Each day after that I got stronger and we would walk just a little farther.

Through the years we saw the physical changes in each other. The gray hair began to take over – though I prefer to think of mine as blonde. She was never as vain as I. We began to have aches and pains that came and went; though I never knew just how much pain she was having. She wasn’t one to complain. She had a few problems along the way herself…pancreatitis, eye surgery, her ACL repaired. Yet she never complained.

I could tell she was failing as the days went quickly by. Her eyesight, hearing, and her peppiness were mostly gone. She had arthritis in her hips and knees and could barely get up and down. I decided to go with her to the doctor’s office today. The doctor examined her and confirmed what I already knew. It was time for her to sleep. It would have been selfish of me to make her stay in all that pain. So I held her and talked to her and let her go. It was my turn to be there for her.

Now I cry. I miss my old friend dearly. But I thank her for the years we spent together trusting each other to be there, and knowing that nobody could come between this friendship. I believe she’s gone to a better place and some day we will take walks together again – neither of us in pain.

Though I won’t be able to talk about this with you for a while, I needed to share this tribute to my friend, Sadie. Always in my heart – forever a part of my life - - I loved her very much.

Judy

And Now You Know The Rest Of The Story

2008-02-27T18:14:00.004-05:00

Today we'll hear from our Guest Blogger Judy. This is a follow-up to her harrowing experience with Nutrisystem, UPS and the bad bad man who robbed her.

My husband Paul calls me...the Queen of Schmooze. Here's the latest reason.

Remember when my NutriSystem package of diet food was stolen from my porch (while I watched)? Well, I went through all the procedures - called UPS who told me to call NS to see if they had insurance on my package. NS told me to deal with the credit card company. Visa told me to put in a dispute - which I did on line. Today I called to see what the status of my dispute was and VOILA - they are refunding my $300.

Isn't that great, unbelievable, amazing?! Paul just shook his head and said, "You did it again." Then he bowed to the Queen of Schmooze as he backed out of my computer room...

Life is getting better I think!

Judy

A Rose In The 'Hood

2008-02-05T05:02:00.000-05:00

Life may well be like a box of chocolates but I'm also learning Life can be like Crater Diamonds State Park Arkansas. That's the place you pay admission to go in and dig around in the dirt to try and find a diamond. If you do you get to keep it.

In keeping with the adage theme, I'm guilty all the time of 'judging a book by it's cover' and we've all certainly been a recipient of that as well. But if I can learn to approach life like the Diamond State Park I think it will make life infinitely more interesting because, see, I have yet to learn 'hood etiquette. Is it, "what're YOU looking at?" or is it 'head down/don't make eye contact?' Never could keep that straight.

Take the continual parade in front of my house for example. There are four elderly people who walk up and back several times a day. They are so cute as they gingerly shuffle along holding their spouse's hands. Oh, they must be safe to make eye contact with and speak to. Nope. Dug in the dirt and discovered an octogenarian racist womanizer. Charming. Now I use evasive tactics when I see them.

Oh, there's my neighbor. She's scary looking and sits on the stoop all day. Oh no...she's making eye contact! She's waving....omg....she wants to talk!! Now here's got to be one of those crack addicts I've seen on the crime shows on T.V. Wrong again Sunny. Wasn't long before I discovered a drug & alcohol-free diamond of a friend who curled up on my couch last Winter and shared pizza and T.V. and books with me.

Then there was a couple weeks ago. As I dodged traffic crossing the street to go to work I saw my path was about to intersect with a very large man. Oh yeah, here's a rough looking character I definitely want to avoid. Well, there's nothing for it--I can't stop now or I'll get nailed by that schoolbus... And then I saw it. He carried a single red rose in his hand. I couldn't help it. Without stopping to contemplate 'hood etiquette I allowed spontaneity to prevail. My arm reached out, my pointy finger extended straight at him and in my best girlish squeal I exclaimed, "OOOO PREEEETTY!!!" Then I froze. Oh, way to go Sunny Girl. That wasn't very 'hood-savvy. I think this is where he reaches for his piece and shoots you dead in the gutter.

But no. A wide smile spread across his face as he nodded his head and kept going, carrying his rose to, who? His wife? His mother? That single red rose was a bright spot of truth in a place where the incessant barrage of sirens, gunfire and the horror of ignorance daily marches on and I am reminded of a wise poem my Nana wrote some years back:

I picked my first flower yesterday
A rosebud kissed with dew
And passed it's flawless beauty on to someone sad I knew.

She thanked me with her shy sweet smile then gave the rose away
For it was all she had, she said, and it was Mother's Day.

At Eventide it traveled on where someone tossed in pain
Then kind hands cut the thorns away and passed it on again.

Today my rose came back to me
Clutched in a toddler's hand.
A broken wilted Gift of Love
Atop a cake of sand!

Think I'll plant some window boxes this Spring. Maybe people will be able to see their beauty past the blindness that so cavalierly insists on residing in my heart.

An Evening With Vietnam

2008-02-01T10:48:00.000-05:00

The sole remaining vietnamese restaurant close to home was burglarized a few weeks ago. OOOO that makes me angry! Here's a family working hard at an honest living and despite hiring a special duty officer and an alarm company the thieves got away with it. I walked in to find the huge flat screen T.V. replaced with a little boxy one. Geez. They had taken it and the gumball machines. Now come on!! I like to go in there of an evening and slurp noodles and watch bad Chinese soap operas dubbed in vietnamese. Never mind I speak neither language. It's why I go there. It's comfy and cozy.

Well, I went in the other night, got my noodles and did my best to spy the wee boxy T.V. across the room. No go. That's okay. Plenty of people watching to be had. There was even a police officer in there having dinner which is always a welcome sight in the 'hood. After a bit, the special duty guy walked in. Wow. A regular cop convention. Then here came two more regulars. Little Asian women, one of whom is a complete SPAZZ. Her mouth runneth over completely independent of her brain. Tonight was no exception. Oh goody! Now we have all the ingredients for some interesting people-watching. And she didn't disappoint. Upon seeing the officer sitting down she stopped in her tracks and exclaimed, "OMG! A female officer! I've never seen one before!!" This elicited much laughter around the room, but she wasn't finished. "I mean...I mean...I've never seen one EATING before!" To which the officer replied, "well, yeah, we do that."

"Oh Gosh! I LOVE the police! I mean, I AM the police! I'm always yelling at people to learn to speak English. I had to..."

Oh, this was great. So great in fact that my delicate physical condition couldn't handle the excitement. Yes folks, as previously stated, my body betrayed me yet again. Nosebleed.

Let me explain the nosebleeds. I get them. Everyday. Always have. Don't know why. Doctors don't know why. So there you go. Now we all don't know why.

I'm a girl who likes to people-watch....not...I repeat...NOT be the center of attention. I like to be the observer on the sidelines. And you'd think a girl who knows she gets nosebleeds daily would come prepared. Well, I wasn't. I only had the ONE napkin they provided. Hey, I'm all for frugality, but one napkin? For cryin' out loud! But that's what I had....and it was a gusher.

Okay Sunny Girl, just stay calm and unobtrusive. Geez, you can't very well go rushing across the packed room to the restroom with your nose clamped shut....especially in front of spazz. She'd call attention to it. No doubt the two first -responders present would tackle you to the ground and intubate you or whatever it is they do for public nosebleeds. Hmm...what to do, what to do....Oh great...here comes the owner and the waitress.....wonderful.

With much pointing and muffled pleas I request a second napkin. Now men are funny. He wasn't expecting this. His welcoming smile faded and he got the frozen deer-in-the-headlights glaze over his eyes that men get when confronted with a woman not acting right. He immediately ran away and sent someone over with yet another of their precious napkins. Whew. And miraculously, Spazz was so taken with the rare Eating-Officer she never noticed me. Close call. She was probably busy wondering if the restaurant provided doughnuts for dessert giving me enough time to pay the bill and make good my escape.

Judy: Today's Guest Blogger

2008-01-20T16:29:00.000-05:00

Folks know I love to hear a good story on everyday life. Just received this one from a coworker and with her permission, today we'll hear from Judy. Without further ado, I give you Judy!

Had to let you all in on this. I know you'll believe it because it could only happen to me...

It's January 18, 2008, approximately 1:45 p.m. Several days ago I ordered my first month's supply of NutriSystem food. That's a month's worth of pre-measured, pre-packaged food used for dieting. This was to be the start of what I'm sure would have proven to be a weight-loss spectacular!

While sitting at my computer - checking email - the UPS man arrived with a large box - oh, goody! I'm ready to get started on this new weight loss campaign. I motioned to the man to leave the box on the porch, as the dogs were hanging around and they go crazy when I open the door to anyone.

Not five minutes had passed when I saw "company" coming. It was an older white car with a stranger inside pulling into my drive. I quickly assessed the situation - it must be someone turning around...but no...to my surprise he pulled up and got out of the car. Not wanting to open my door to a stranger, I opened the window in the computer room so I could find out what he wanted. As I did this, I noticed he had my "box" and was exiting the porch. I said, "Hey! That's my box!" A most astute comment think. He turned and looked at me and continued putting my box into his car. Quickly I thought - he's stealing my box! Brilliant. However, being a student of the crime shows, I figured I will teach him - I will get his license number. Guess what?! He had a piece of white paper over his front license plate. Not to be deterred - and being certain that I'm smarter than him - I will get the number off his back license plate...which I then discovered he also had covered with a white piece of paper.

I immediately called '911' and a policeman came right over. I described the thief - white, about 5'10 or 5'11", very thin, probably early 20's, driving an older white car (of course I didn't know the make or model). I told him what was in the box and indicated that I felt it was God's way of telling me I'm OK and don't need to diet. We laughed. I told him I figured this would be a hoot at the police headquarters. He said, Oh, no, we won't talk about it. I said, "Oh, go ahead...I would." He laughed and said they would try to locate the bozo but it's like looking for a needle in a haystack.

Can you believe it!? What he got was $300 worth of NutriSystem food. I hope he only uses it for good!

...and I have a few other things I hope happen to him - but I shouldn't put them in writing!

Judy

My Hero To The Rescue Again

2008-01-20T15:51:00.000-05:00

Anyone who knows me knows this is par for the course of my life:

Got up and went to church on this bright sunny Sunday, had a great lunch at MCL cafeteria (mac & cheese to write home about) with some great friends. Afterward, faithful friend rebs dropped me home where I promptly snapped the key off in the lock. Mark the Maintenance Guy My Hero is working on the lock as I blog. Was only locked out an hour on this zero degree day, but Mark is on it!

I Was Fine 'Til She Opened Her Big Yap

2008-01-15T16:13:00.001-05:00

Eternal Hope aside, today I think I'll just pout.

"When life hands you lemons...." well, that was cute the first 200 times I heard it, but it makes me ever-so-grateful that mommy is wise and has a different way of putting it. She has often told me, "When life throws you a curve-ball, learn how to hit it." She tells me this often because, see, I don't want to learn how to hit the curve balls. I want it all to be smooth and comfy. I want to continue to exist in my happy-place. Never did much like living in reality.

My body has always betrayed me. I won't give you the laundry list of my illnesses but I think I can say I've pretty much taken them in stride. When all the physical changes started taking place, I was fine with it. When I hit my 30's and discovered women actually start growing beards and mustaches, I put up with that. I just figured I was learning what God created tweezers for. When the FM hit at 35 and I suddenly found myself trying to function in an 80-yr-old body, I was okay with that. Especially since the doctor drugged me to the gills, I've found it so much easier to hit the curve balls. Even when the Eye Doctor said the "B" word this week, I handled it. At least I thought I did. But then my co-worker spoke.

So anyway....there I was...in my little cubicle at work....minding my own business....when I made the mistake of casually mentioning I didn't know how I was gonna last the week without my new glasses because the headaches and dry eyes were killing me and I'm not so sure I'm gonna dig this new look and.....okay....I was whining. My cubicle-mate, who never cuts me any slack whatsoever decided to dig in:

"oh, you still ON THAT?"

Geez, I thought I'd been taking it in stride. Milestones and all that good stuff. Apparently not because she proceeded to give me the "I Cried Because I Had No Shoes" speech, complete with "blind children" and "you lucky to've lived THIS long" thrown in for good measure. So I informed her that I didn't want to hear it because "IT IS ALL ABOUT MEEEEEEEEE!!"

She was not impressed. But I was still fine. Really. But then she said it. She dropped the bomb on me.

"Here....try my reading glasses....I have an extra pair."

I said, "Really? Reading glasses? Saaay....these WORK!" And then I looked in the mirror. There, perched on the end of my beak were the ugly half-moon glasses old people wear. And they worked.

Get it? They worked. Okay, maybe you don't get it. Here's the deal:

My whole life I have walked up to the prescription counter in practically every other pharmacy in America and have seen the reading glass rack sitting there. And that's all it did. It sat there. Along with canes and walkers and diabetic gadgets and the rack of spiritual books aimed at the hopeless and dying. And I dismissed it all. Never gave it a second glance. Because, after all, that stuff was for "those people". See? THOSE PEOPLE. Not me. Somehow, when the EYE DOCTOR said, "BIFOCALS" it was different. It was....I don't know.....just..... about me only. Just....the next step. It seemed okay. Now somehow, I am one of THOSE PEOPLE. OMG I'm not separate or different or better or worse. I'm just like everyone else. The reading glass rack is there for me too so that means I am gonna need all the other gear and the books for dying people too. It wasn't so much the reality of aging that hit me in the face as it was the fact that I'm not different. Somehow I was pulled out of my happy place of denial, pride and mental-unreality and made to see myself as I really am. No different. Just a human being like everyone else. No better, no worse. Not more than, not less than. Just. Equal. I am not an island unto myself as I like to think I am.

Okay. So I'm a little slow on the uptake. Most people probably already have this figured out and yes, I hear all the good wisdom and advice in my head that I'd so easily dish out to someone else going down this neurotic little rabbit trail. But I'm not listening.

FINE LIFE! YOU WANNA THROW ME A CURVE BALL? JUST WATCH ME SMACK IT OUTTA THIS BALL PARK BABY!

So after work I got in my trusty car and drove down to the Dollar Tree. The woman standing there at the reading glass rack had a handful of these glasses and she turned to me and said, "aren't these GREAT?? Only a BUCK and I have them stashed ALL OVER MY HOUSE!!"

I say, "YEAH! WONDERFUL!" I pick a pair of glasses, pay the $1.07 and drive back home. And you know what? The next time I see those chains that old ladies attach to their glasses to hang around their necks, I'm gonna get one of THOSE too. WITH BEADS.

TAKE THAT LIFE!

Ice Skating: Chapter I

2008-01-11T17:22:00.000-05:00

Went to the ice rink today so I'm now on the road to doing the spin thing so I can check it off my Life's List. Being the great people-watcher that I am, public places like this are gold mines. Just a few observations:

1. I didn't do too badly. I skated forever, didn't fall down once, then started sucking air and gulping water. Looked at the clock. I'd skated 8 minutes. Okay...I'm obviously gonna have to work up to the spin thing.

2. Saw the people at the rink I didn't want to be. I don't ever wanna be the parent on the sidelines afraid to be out there.

3. The parents ON the ice were cooler, but the cameras were mildly annoying. Wonder how many pictures they got of my big beak as I skated into the frame just as they were taking the shot?

4. Saw the wonderful array of people of all sizes and abilities. I was safely in there on the lower end of the spectrum between the little ones alternately holding the wall for dear life and mopping up the ice with their bums and the students with coaches. Really glad I wasn't the 20-something chick who fell and busted her knee. They finally got her off the ice. Not sure what they did with her. Wonder if they had to put her down.

5. There were two people of note: First was the grade schooler with the coach. Oh wow...she was doing the spin thing! Yes Yes! That's where I wanna get to. I learned two things watching her. One, I'm gonna need a coach. I'm gonna need a few Loonies and Twonies for that one, hey Canada? Two, I'm gonna have to be able to skate on one foot. My knees promptly said, "lose 30 lbs. pork chop, then maybe I'll think about doing that."
The other person of note was maybe a middle schooler. He was wearing skates, those nylon basketball shorts, a light jacket and hockey gloves. It wasn't his lack of clothing that caught my attention (my ears were screaming for muffs it was so cold), but his fluid speed. The kid lapped me THREE times before I made it around once, then he did it again.....backwards. Something inside me thrills to that kind of grace.

6. And finally....not that I'm trying to start an international incident or anything...but when I was trampled by the Canadian hockey team arriving as I was leaving the rink, a girl might have something to say about that. We're talking BIG bus with BIG guys with BIG bags and BIG hockey sticks. Welcome to America, hey.

It's Official: I'm Old

2008-01-11T14:20:00.000-05:00

Eye doctor said the "B" word today.

BIFOCALS!!

Which means I am one milestone closer to goin' home! Woo Hoo!!

So to celebrate, I stopped at White Castles and bought some gut-bombs to symbolically say goodbye to my youth. Only the young have the constitutions of steel needed to digest one of those and I figured I'd better do it while I still had my teeth.

Can't Blame This One On Brain Fog

2008-01-10T15:39:00.000-05:00

I came home the other night and my T.V. wouldn't turn on. That's weird. I was just watching it last night. Hmmm...let's see...

pay the electric bill? ~~Check.
breaker box? ~~Check.
still plugged in? ~~Check.

Well, that's the extent of my troubleshooting ability. Let's call Step Daddy the electrician and go through his check list too. His final analysis of the situation? "Well, I don't know what to tell you." That's okay--I always feel better after talking with him anyway.

Okay....so what's a girl in the 'hood to do? I'll just run an extension cord across the room until I can call in the big guns.......Maintenance!

Like a Knight in Shining Armor he arrives at my door TEN minutes after my call for help. I love this place. You just call and POOF! Mark the Maintenance Guy magically appears at your door. Renting is good.

He pulls off his coat, crawls in behind the T.V. and just as he's getting ready to tear out the wall he looks by the front door and says, "Is that a light switch?" MY HERO!!

OH YES, I remember now! That morning I'd knocked a candle off the wall on my way out the door. Must've hit the light switch on it's way down.

So, standing there, humbled in the presence of such brilliance I say...."Why YES! That IS a light switch! Saaayyy, whaddya know! It must be connected to my brain!"

Uphill..Both Ways....In The Snow....

2008-01-10T15:35:00.000-05:00

I live across the street from work so I walk there. And back. Today I counted the steps....
Door to door is 186 steps one way. That's not counting the little stutter-steps I take dodging traffic since there's no crosswalk.

Just thought ya'll would like to know.

...And Tomorrow I Shall Leap Tall Buildings In A Single Bound

2008-01-08T16:05:00.000-05:00

rrriiiinggg.......

"hello?"

"Hi Mommy, how ya feeling today?"

"still not real good but getting better."

"Awh...get some chicken noodle soup in ya. Say, let me talk to step daddy....it's his Birthday today, isn't it?"

"no."

"It's not?? When's his Birthday?"

"aaahhhh.......the 8th."

"Um, isn't today the 8th?"

"...........................................OMG!! GOTTA GO!!" CLICK!

....so anyway....there I was.....It was a close call, but in the end I saved a marriage.

Malachi 4:2

2008-01-07T16:06:00.000-05:00

In looking at my "Life's List Of Things To Do Before I Die" I see I've checked off ice skating. I think I need to revisit that one. Yes, I've ice skated but I haven't accomplished what I wanted to with that. Competition? No. Certainly not. I was watching one of those silly ice skating movies last night and I remembered....

I remembered being on the frozen pond in front of our apartment as a little girl. I remembered having watched the figure skaters at the Olympics on our 13" black & white and wanting to do that spin thing they did. You know that spin thing? I'm sure there's a name for it but I can't remember it. They would spin in a tight little circle so fast they were a blur. Arms crossed on chest and hair flying. Flying. That's what I wanted to do on that frozen pond in Illinois as a little girl. I wanted to fly on that ice.

I still want to fly. Back then I was weak. My little ankles would buckle in on those skates and my asthma kept me from going as fast and long as I wanted to. I'd try the spin thing and hit the ice. I'd troop up to the apartment and demand mommy watch out the window to see me spin. Mommy humored me and I went back out to fall on the ice some more.

Well that was a different time and place. Now it is 2008 in Columbus-we-don't-have-real-winters-here-Ohio. Ten degrees on Monday and 68 degrees on Tuesday. Try finding a frozen pond around here. But to be fair I have flown in Ohio. I flew on horseback. I can honestly check that off my Life's List. Tall white Arabian named Dakota and OH! he moved like a dream! I have his memory bright in my mind~~

...Flying across a field bareback into the sun~~I can see his head snapped high, tail flagged and his mane streaming....and didn't we fly! The sun warm on my face , the feel of his strong back and soft coat against my bare legs clamped tight around him. The sound of the wind and pounding hooves in my ears and the smell of warm horse in a sun-baked field...

Oh yes, his memory is bright in my mind and I am satisfied.

I think now is the time to learn that spin. Am I old now? Yes. 42. FM-ravaged body? Yes. Doing good to walk these days. But who cares? The dream is still alive.

Blithering Idiot

2008-01-03T16:05:00.000-05:00

This Post is Dedicated to my Faithful Friend Rebs who, despite being fully apprised of my myriad neuroses still chooses to be seen in public with me. I am grateful for your fearless, unwavering friendship.

I walked into the cafeteria at work. There were two people there. I greeted our resident vending machine guy. I always greet him first because he is blind and can't see my approach. He comes complete with guide-dog. I like him. He never fails to amaze me. I just say something like, "hey, how's it going?" and he always greets me by name. Always. He knows my voice apart from the 1,000+ other employees in the building. He even remembers my rabbit by name and other various details I've forgotten I told him. How incredible is that?

I moved on into the room where I greeted the second person; our resident maintenance guy. He was standing on a ladder replacing a light in the ceiling. He's another one who amazes me because he is deaf but you wouldn't know it because he reads lips like no one I've ever known. He also speaks in a modulated tone with very little impediment, giving no clue to his impairment.

He smiled down at me from his perch and began talking to me. His attention was on the ceiling as he worked. About this time, Resident Vending Machine Guy decides to start a conversation with me as well because he can't see that I'm already in a conversation.

So anyway....there I was...stuck between two conversations. Deaf Guy can't hear that Blind Guy is speaking too, and Blind Guy can't see that FM Chick (me) is already engaged. Oh great. Just great. How, exactly, is a graceful social butterfly such as myself supposed to handle this? I'll tell you how I handled this: With my FM-fueled brain fog firmly in place, I was quickly reduced to social incompetence.

With my index finger raised in a "wait a minute" gesture, I stood there with my head snapping back and forth like I was at a tennis match while my mouth opened and shut like an oxygen-starved clam. Sounds began to emanate from my mouth: "Ah....Um.....Bah....Er....Gah....Uh..." After what seemed like aeons with both men obliviously chattering away, I slapped my hands over my ears and retreated post-haste, leaving Deaf Guy staring after me and Blind Guy still talking.

Of the 3 of us in the room, one of us was handicapped. That would be me.

Fun With Cops

2007-12-26T18:05:00.000-05:00

Stopped in the bank today to get quarters for laundry. Just thought I'd dash in...so I left my purse in the car. As I walked into the lobby, I saw 2 tellers and 2 people with them. That's 2 people too many for my bank, 'cause see, they are SLOOOOOOW. Been a customer there long enough to know this was not gonna be a "just dash in" kinda day. So I paused in the lobby and turned around to look back at my car, contemplating the wisdom of leaving my purse in there. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Columbus' Finest become alert to me and my behavior. They always have a special duty guy there and I like that. Makes one feel safe in the 'hood.
So anyway, there I was... in the lobby thinking about my purse and watching cars pull in beside my car and passersby looking in at it. Ah well...I'll just keep an eye on it. Doesn't this story sound like it's going somewhere? Well, it isn't. But as I stood waiting for a teller to open up, I decided since I had the attention of Columbus' Finest, I may as well amuse myself. I kept turning around to gaze out at my car and watched out of my periphery to watch the cop watching me trying to decide what I was all about. First he watched me, then kept going over to the window in the office he was hiding in and looking outside to see if he could figure out what was going on. After dividing his attention between me, the bank and outside, he finally decides to walk out into the lobby to make himself known to me. After my 15th glance outside, I include him in my glance and smile an acknowledgement, then go back to putting my full attention on nothing outside. This was getting to be fun. After several more minutes of this game I was finally able to get my quarters and leave. Poor feller. But hey, at least I made 5 minutes of his day interesting. Just doing my civic duty.

Christmas Box...The Sequel!

2007-12-19T20:04:00.000-05:00

I live across the street from work, so when lunchtime rolled around I rushed out the door to go home to see if my Christmas box from Canada had arrived....AS PROMISED BY THE POST OFFICE...I might add.
OH GLORY! I see the mail truck! He's pulling into my drive! YAAY!!...
I dodge traffic and go rushing up to the mailman's truck and he presents me a package and says, "that you?"

"um, nooo...that would be the neighbor who just moved out last week. Anything for ME?"

"No."

"Um, they said they'd re-deliver my package from yesterday when I wasn't here to sign for it."

"Oh, they TOLD you that? Oh no...they done with you...they tried to deliver once....you on your own now. You gotta GO GET IT."

No joke...the man actually SAID that. Christmas in the 'hood.

Okay...now they got one pissed kitty to deal with. Back in my trusty car I go....BACK through "crack alley", BACK to the metal detectors....and OH YES...the line is even longer this time. That's okay...it gives me time to think. 'Cause, see, I'm not going anywhere. They still have my slip and my Christmas box but I have my driver's license AND my attitude. Good thing the line was long. Gave me time to think. "Okay God, I'll control the attitude...but could you get me my box?"
Oh goody, I'm up next. Wonder which one of you lucky folk get to deal with me? Careful now, Sunny...check the attitude...watch the body language....

Oh goody! I get the most tired clerk behind the counter with the biggest 'tude. I very pleasantly said, "I'm here to pick up a package. I wasn't home to sign for it yesterday."

Blank look.

I hand her my driver's license. "This is my address."

Sigh.

"This is your address?"

"Yes."

Body Language: You are REALLY putting me OUT. Sigh.

"This is a parcel?"

"Yes."

Sigh.

"And it's HERE?"

"Yes."

Sigh. Body Language.

"Okay....this is going to take me a REALLY LONG TIME." Sigh. Body Language. Averted Eyes.

That's my cue. A huge smile spreads across my face as I clap my hands together and say, "GREAT! I'LL BE RIGHT HERE WHEN YOU GET BACK!!" And I lean back against a counter and smile big as I hold up the endless line behind me. Ah yes, Justice. You a little put out honey? I am SO SORRY! Maybe I'll just go on home and leave you alone....that's okay...you just keep my box...I don't need it...I certainly don't want to inconvenience you!!

Well, it took her less than 2 minutes to find my box. That's cool. Thank you God! So I race home and wait for Canada to call me so I can open my box on the phone.

LOTS OF GOODIES....she sent yummies from Newfoundland....Roasted Chicken potato chips....oh yummy! Candies, flannel jammies, marshmallow snowballs...the prettiest painted rock with a whale on it....all Newfoundland goodies! Oh MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ME!!! Even a little tree ornament...a teddy bear waving a Canadian flag!...OH he goes near the top of the tree! And one more thing.....a computer camera!! WOO HOO! Now me and BFF Canada can spend our Saturdays online, playing computer games in our jammies and looking at each other's bed head! This is LIVING!!

Things That Make You Go: "SAY WHAT?"

2007-12-18T19:05:00.000-05:00

Ever notice in Luke 1:62 that Zechariah's relatives signed to him to ask him what he wanted his son named? I mean, the guy couldn't TALK....he wasn't deaf. Why are they signing to him when old Zach can hear them just fine? Then in the very next verse it says Zechariah asked for a tablet so he could write out the name. He asked when he couldn't talk?

I'm just sayin'.

Jingle Bells....Shotgun Shells.....

2007-12-18T17:36:00.000-05:00

Ah yes...'tis the season. For one week now, I've held my breath waiting for the Christmas box coming from Canada. Can't wait!!! But can it possibly be that easy? NOOOOOO!
BFF Canada posted my box a week ago, telling the friendly Canadian Post Office people she didn't require my signature once it got here. So what happens? They leave me a note in my box telling me that yes, they were here, and yes, they wanted my signature, and until then they would hold my box hostage until such a time as I presented myself, I.D. in hand at the post office.
Ok, fine, I can do that. I get in my trusty car, drive through "crack alley" to the post office. We are talking the heart of the 'hood. I safely arrive only to find myself at the end of a long line reaching aaalll the way back to the metal detectors. Metal detectors? In a Post Office? Good thing I've practiced my "duck and run" technique to perfection. As I stand there I exchange friendly glances with the toothless woman in the Santa hat behind me. And the guy holding the box bigger than he was....behind me. Sucks to be him. Then it occurs to me....What if I actually survive my visit to this post office only to wade through this looong line only to find out the package is still on the truck? Just as this thought was hitting me....a little window opens up in a door off to the right of the line. Two BEAUTIFUL faces peer out and announce: "Is anyone here to pick up a package requiring a signature?" UP shoots my hand....ME! ME!....
I run over and present the required slip and I.D. and she disappears into the nether regions of the back room. 30 seconds later she comes back and tells me my box is still on the truck taking a tour of the 'hood. She apologizes and I say, "hey, that's quite alright....I didn't have to wait in line to find that out!" I ask her if they can redeliver and just leave it at my door tomorrow. She hems and haws saying a signature is required. BFF Canada had told me she made SURE no signature was required so this wouldn't happen in the first place. I finally sign what needs signed and check all requisite boxes and so tomorrow the dream will come true! OOOO I can't WAIT!! Hopefully my box will have survived it's tour through the 'hood and make it here tomorrow sans bullet holes. WOO HOOO!

The World Is Ending!

2007-12-17T19:52:00.000-05:00

okay...maybe it's not that bad....but...ONE OF MY VIETNAMESE RESTAURANTS WENT OUT OF BUSINESS!!! The nerve! It's not like I didn't try...

All's I Wanted Was a Cheeseburger.....

2007-11-29T16:09:00.000-05:00

Mommy says Columbus is a "transient" city. I think that means people move around a lot and no one stays put. I can agree with that. We have a lot of immigrants here. Without waxing political, I must say I love the immigrants. They bring tradition. They bring traditional FOOD. They bring traditional FOOD RECIPES. They bring their traditional food recipes in trailers. Yes, if I won't come to them, they'll come to me with their trailer full of their traditional food. We have trailers on every street corner. We have taco trailers and burrito buggies. If I didn't like Columbus before, I'm starting to warm to it a little better.
Two of these trailers have found our work building. They park out back first thing and serve up pancakes for breakfast and soul food for lunch. It's pretty slick. You pick up your cell phone, call in your order then walk out and pick it up. Not professional, but it works. And yes, they know my voice on the phone as well as my name. As the morning wears on my mind inevitably turns to "which trailer shall I call for lunch?" Today I worked myself into a mental feeding-frenzy thinking about the soul-food trailer. Ah yes...they fry a mean cheeseburger....a side of mac & cheese and maybe some greens....yes. That's it. 11:30 rolls around and I pick up my cell with great expectations:

(ring....hello?)
"I'd like to place an order..."

"oh, um...we just had a baby 10 minutes ago and I'm at the hospital. They had to take it by cesarean."

Now, right there my fog-addled brain got lost. I'm thinking cheeseburger and the man is talking to me about babies.

"...the baby was late so they decided to induce but they had to take it by cesarean..."

(um.....cheeseburger?)

"...my brother was scared as hell...."

(mac & cheese?)

"...grandma's got 58 grandchildren and now she has 59!"

(greens????)

"is there a number for security so they can tell people we won't be there today?"

FINALLY, Brain kicks in and feeds the proper responses to Mouth so I can congratulate the man even though I was grieving the loss of some good macaroni and cheese for lunch. How embarrassing.

Today's Funny

2007-11-24T08:02:00.000-05:00

Our son had only heard his grandfather pray at Thanksgiving, Easter, and other special occasions; when he, typically, said a long prayer over the food.
One night, after a fun camp-out and fishing trip, grandfather (to our son's surprise) asked a very brief blessing on the food. With a gleam in his eye, our son grinned at his Grandfather and said, "You don't pray so long when you're hungry, do you Grandpa?"

Brain Cramp

2007-11-19T18:27:00.000-05:00

I have FM. One of the more annoying symptoms is a perpetual brain fog. The otherwise simple and mundane things of life turn into confusion as they pass through my brain.

Case in point:

...so anyway...there I was... pulling into the parking spot at the library. The tag on the car I was parking nose to nose with said "Forgiven" in the shorthand way vanity tags are written. Couldn't help but notice the tag, because it kept getting closer and closer.....and CLOSER!!! OMG!!! Somehow when I pulled up, my body decided I was done driving so I was getting out of the car without having taken it out of gear and turning it off. Brain was nowhere to be found so Body couldn't really figure out what to do. Meanwhile, bystanders are watching my car inch closer and closer to the parked car in front of me while my body begins to kick into panic mode...you know....hands flailing, face contorting...
Vaguely, Brain realizes what has happened and instead of giving Body the info to move into action, it lazily recalls how really old people are always in the news for having accidentally hit the gas instead of the brake. OHNOOH NOTHATCANTHAPPENJUSTNOWWHAT'STHEPROPERACTIONHERE?HOWDOI STOPTHISCRAZYTHING????
Mere millimeters from the other car, Brain saves the day. I stop successfully. No contact. WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEWWWWWWWWW. Now I have brain fog and adrenaline overload. Bystanders faces clearly communicate "IDIOT". And idly, Brain wonders if Body would've been FORGIVEN had Brain not saved the day. Forgiven, no. Slapped with higher insurance rates... to be sure.

Houston, We Have Apple Pie

2007-11-19T18:07:00.000-05:00

Oh Yes! My second go at making an apple pie succeeded! Well now, I can cross that one off my

Life's List of Things To Do Before I Die.

Ride a Horse. Check.
Grow a Vegetable Garden. Check.
Can Homemade Jam. Check.
Spin My Own Yarn and Knit Socks and Mittens. Check.
Buy a Hot Dog From A NY Street Vendor. Check.
Ice Skate. Check.
Make Biscuits. Check.
Make Pie. Check.
Learn Pottery. ...learn pottery.....hmmmm

Right. Learn Pottery.......and then my list is done! Woo Hoo!

Pardon me while I have a side-bar with God...

(OK, Lord...I've just about completed my list and since you don't seem all that eager to call me home yet, yer gonna have to give me some more ideas 'cause I'm fresh out. Thanks.)

Yeah, that was one tasty pie. Maybe I oughtta practice more pies until God gives me more ideas while I'm waiting. BFF Canada tells me her fave is blueberry so I think that'll be my next one.

Any requests?

You Gonna Eat That?

2007-11-14T19:41:00.000-05:00

I love it when my Lead Key's husband goes out of town. That means Vietnamese food for dinner. My lead key at work is from Vietnam. She has introduced me to a whole new food-world. I now prefer Vietnamese food over Chinese as far as Asian cuisine goes. I frequent a couple of the restaurants in town. Maybe "frequent" is an understatement. I'm on a first-name basis with the owners and their families. No joke. Today, Lead Key tells me there is a new dish on the menu at one of these restaurants....so off we go. Don't gotta tell me twice.
I'm really glad she introduced me to the food. If I had walked in alone, I'd have no clue how to go about eating these dishes. It's not like Chinese food where everything goes over rice. No. Eating Vietnamese food is like an art-form. Each dish is brought to table in pieces-parts and you assemble it. Bowls and dishes are arranged on the table and you begin to tear and mix and add and taste and stir until it's just right...THEN you dig in.
So anyway....there I was.....sitting across from Lead Key at the restaurant discussing what we will order, because see, she understands not only my need for quality, but my penchant for QUANTITY as well. She describes the new dish and I say, "um...is that gonna be enough"?
She chuckles, looks at me knowingly and suggests we split another dish as well. Cool. So when the owner comes over she places our order in her language to ensure nothing is misunderstood. I don't know if the owner is onto my eating habits or not....all I know is that by the time it was all said and done, the owner is walking away shaking his head and laughing and we are promptly served 3 dinners. Life is good.

A Girl's Gotta Eat

2007-11-13T16:24:00.000-05:00

"Welcome Foodies!" the sign declares when you walk into Jungle Jim's near Cincinnati. Jungle Jim's is a wonderful grocery shopping experience to say the least. But it was the sign that caught my attention because, see, I like food. Most all of it. Good quality, quantity and diversity. Never knew what to call myself before Jungle Jim's signage explained it to me. Some would say I was a gourmand. Friends who once visited me in the hospital knew to bring food...not flowers. My BFF Canada calls me Miss Piggy with great affection. Mommy calls me...well, nothing really...I just sorta get THE LOOK from her. Former Roommate recalled the time I ate a whole chicken before a dinner party once. Don't remember that, but I certainly believe her. But I do remember the time I did myself the most proud. It was my 41st birthday. Former Roommate took me to a place specializing in cheeseburgers. I sure was hungry that night. I ate the one pound cheeseburger followed up with cheesy fries and a big milkshake. Next thing I know, the waitress is handing me a huge stuffed hamburger and announcing to the whole room that I had accomplished an extraordinary feat....eating a whole One Pound Cheeseburger!! She then snapped my picture and hung it alongside the pictures of the other extraordinary eaters on the Wall of Fame. I was quite proud of myself after they told me it was noteworthy. I hadn't set out to accomplish anything great that night. I was just being me. Coworkers were impressed when I told them. I'm not sure if they were impressed over the picture or the amount I ate. A. Coworker stopped at the restaurant to eat and snapped a picture of my picture on her cell phone and showed me at work a few weeks later. Then came the devastating news. The restaurant was CLOSED. Out of business. Kaput. There went my 15 minutes of fame. Wonder what they did with my picture? Wonder what they did with the big stuffed cheeseburger? Ah well.. no matter. I come by it honestly. I can remember the Monday mornings Grandfather sat at the breakfast table polishing off the leftover pot roast before Grandmother could walk in and catch him and announce, "HARLAND, THAT'S DISGUSTING!!" *sigh*....it's good to be me. :)

Today's Funny

2007-11-12T14:01:00.001-05:00

Fifty-one years ago, Herman James, a North Carolina mountain man, was drafted by the Army. On his first day in basic training, the Army issued him a comb. That afternoon the Army barber sheared off all his hair. On his second day, the Army issued Herman a toothbrush. That afternoon the Army dentist yanked seven of his teeth. On the third day, the Army issued him a jock strap. The Army has been looking for Herman for 51 years.

So This is Blogging...

2007-11-12T12:50:00.001-05:00

Who Knew? 42 years old and I've heard about this but never bothered. Then I come across someone else's blog and I'm hooked. This is cool. So this is what the commercial means when it says: REMEMBER! WHEN YOU'RE ONLINE YOUR IN PUBLIC...BE CAREFUL! Okay...I'll be careful. Can't imagine anyone reading this anyway....'cept maybe my mommy......hmm....okay....Being careful will mean, "don't say anything you wouldn't want your mother to read". Ok...that's easy....I can do that.
Yesterday I made my first-ever apple pie! See, that's excitement to me. It sure was pretty. I even cut these little maple leaves and acorns into the top crust. But then I tasted it. Right to the trash she went. That's gonna take some practice. Whoever said, "easy as pie...".....well, you know.....
This is day 4 off from work. I love long weekends. It has given me a chance to observe Dumpling. He's my Super-rabbit. Too smart for his own good. Knows how to stand and shake on command....just like a dog. He knows "carrot", "come here", "lie down", etc. Remember that Bugs Bunny cartoon where the guy finds a frog that can sing and dance? Then the minute he shows someone else, the frog just sits there and goes: "RIBBIT"......That's Dumpling. Does his, "I'm just a rabbit and I don't speak English" imitation the second someone else is in the room. But he really is clever. And I've found my way around that. The second I say "carrot", he suddenly forgets he doesn't speak English and does what I want.
Anyhoo.....I've been watching him this weekend. He lives in a walk-in pantry in the kitchen. I've set up a rabbit fence that goes partway into the kitchen. He uses his cage for a bathroom but otherwise gets the run of the room. He can't jump over the fence. Fur on linoleum causes a wipe-out the second he tries. But the fence is sectioned and loose. Everytime I go in the kitchen the thing is re-arranged. Now I know why. I saw him. I arrange the fence the way I want it.....then he starts going around and grabbing sections of the fence in his mouth and pushing here and there until he gets it the way he wants it. And it's arranged the SAME way every time! Oh well....it's his house...he has as much right to decorate as I do mine. He doesn't much like me destroying his artwork either. He has a yellow-pages that he uses as a throne when he's not shredding it. Heck of a mess when he does that. I let him keep his artwork for a couple days, then in the trash it goes. No problem. He just starts over.
Gee, think I'll stop for now. This is fun. Just another life happening here.