Driver Stabbed Himself

If you click on the title above, you should get linked to an article in our local newspaper describing how a local man committed suicide by stabbing himself repeatedly while driving.
While that's plenty odd, it is not nearly the oddest suicide story I have ever heard. I remember another local man whose decision to off himself went horribly wrong. Here we go:

Many years ago, a local doctor decided to kill himself. He decided to go up on the highway and step in front of a passing car. So, he got in his car, got up on the highway, pulled over to the shoulder, got out of his car, and almost immediately, a couple of other people pulled their cars over to see if he needed help. (We're friendly like that around here.)

No, no, he said, and then stepped in front of a passing car. Which ran into him. And over him. The people who had already pulled over to help rushed to his aid, along with, of course, the driver of the car that ran him over, and people from other cars who saw what happened and stopped. Remarkably, he was not dead. Not even all that injured. And he still wanted to end it all. So he got up off the highway, ran to the guardrail, and jumped over it, presumably hoping that he would land in the river, approximately 30' below. Except his aim was a little off, perhaps from being run over by a car, and he landed, splat, on the bank of the river instead of in the river itself.

By now, as you can imagine, quite a crowd had gathered, and several people rushed down to the riverbank to see if they could help. And the good doctor was still alive. Except for, um, he still wanted to die. So he got up off the riverbank, jumped in the river, and started swimming for the middle, presumably to drown himself. Several of the good Samaritans went in after him, and by the time he got to the middle of the river, he was thrashing around pretty good, like it had finally struck him that "hmm, maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all." The good Samaritans got ahold of him and got him to the shore, and he was still alive.

Unfortunately, he passed away from his injuries a short time later.

I swear that this is a true story. I remember when it happened, approximately 15 years ago, and I remember thinking, this is the most bizarre thing I've ever heard of. That poor man.

The Office

This sign is posted in my place of employment:

Just in case The Itchy and Scratchy Show gets out of hand. I found it at a flea market and thought it would be a fitting addition to the office.

I Know It's October .........

.... because all I want to do is eat. And eat and eat and eat. Even when I'm not technically hungry, my body is yearning to eat.

This happens every fall. It lasts for a couple of weeks, then goes away, then springs back to life some time in the winter, usually in January or February. I have no idea why - some kind of primitive food-storing for winter impulse. Am I like a squirrel, frantically burying nuts for the coming cold weather?

All I know is, it took every bit of my willpower to not stop and get a doughnut on the way to work this morning. Mmmm, doughnuts.

So what am I doing right now? Sitting at work, eating Fritos leftover from yesterday's lunch. Sigh.

The Great Mofo Delurk!

OK guys, today is the great mofo delurk! That means that all you lurkers out there, all of you who stop by to view my blog but never leave a comment, need to give a shout-out!

I have no fancy stat-counters on this site, so I have no idea how many people actually stop by. Of course, I have a loyal few (Thanks, you guys! I appreciate it more than you know), but I have no idea if anyone other than them is reading this thing.

So please, if you are a lurker, please leave a comment today. Anonymously, if you'd like. I'd just really like to know how many (or few) of you there are!

More embarrassing childhood pics to follow. I promise. (Oooops - there went the audience!)

Updated to add: COME ON YOU GUYS! It's 3 p.m.! Schmutzie has 71 delurker comments on her blog! LET'S GO!

If I add possibly the worst school picture ever taken, would that help?

Oh, the Geekage of it all

Coming soon - Photo documentation of my awkward childhood! Here's a teaser:




Believe it or not, Pippi Longstocking braids were actually popular when I was a kid! And the little side-braid up top - tres fashionable! Unfortunately, I predict a foray into the wonderful world of orthodontia for this young lady. And ya gotta love the whole garbage-bag draw-string neckline. With garbage-bag draw-string sleeves! Mom sent me to school in garbage bags.

And no, no, I don't have a scanner, so I'm doing this the old-fashioned way - taking pictures of pictures. Because I am lame.

Mystery Picture!

I saw this plant (the one in the center of the pic, with the red berry-things) in the woods a couple of weeks ago. It's about four inches tall. I had no idea what it was, and when I looked it up I was really surprised. Care to hazard a guess?

The Itchy and Scratchy Show

My boss and one of the CAD guys have been having a violent argument all day about the design of a particular project. They yell and shout and toss around the F-bomb, get calmed down, and then start up all over again. This is not unusual for these two. All I can think of is the theme song from "The Itchy and Scratchy Show", which goes something like this:

They fight
and fight
and fight and fight and fight
fightfightfight
fightfightfight
The Itchy and Scratchy Show!

At least it's Friday.

On Second Thought .......

I was going to write about how my boss, on rare occasions, has been able to make me cry actual tears of anger, but he just informed me that he's giving me a raise.

Thanks, boss!

Ewwww ..... Gross

There is a dead squirrel in my backyard. I discovered him (or her) last night. He (or she) looks very peaceful, just lying on the ground, dead. Now I have to figure out what to do with the body.

I considered just leaving it there, but the thought of coming across it again in upcoming days, when it has started to decompose, is not very pleasant. And I don't want to have to touch it (yuck! squirrel cooties!) to move it. So I thought I could scoop it up with a shovel and put it ..... where? I thought about just nudging over a few feet into my neighbor's yard, but that hardly seems fair. And it hasn't rained here for several days, so the ground is as hard as a rock, and not conducive to grave-digging. I suppose I could push it into a plastic bag and put it in the garbage, but the thought of that squirrel corpse in the bottom of a garbage can for the week until the next pick-up is skeeving me out. I suppose I could carry it (in the shovel, of course), out to the road and leave it by the side to join its many car-squashed brethren, which the local highway department disposes of.

Sigh. Why do I always have to make such a big deal out of everything? And does anybody have any squirrel-disposal ideas?

My Hare-Brained Scheme Comes To Fruition

So, Saturday was my first time showing my photographs at a craft show. I am not really a craft show-type person, but I really wanted to see if my photos would sell. It was a beautiful day, sunny and warm, and I met lots of nice people. The vendors around me were very friendly and helpful when they found out it was my first show - they even let out a cheer when I made my first sale. I was amazed at how many shoppers wanted to talk (and talk, and TALK) - lots of people said the photos reminded them of gardens they used to have, or of their relatives' gardens. And a lot of older women wanted to talk about their dead husbands, which was kind of weird, but I can sympathize - I think they just need someone to listen, and I was a captive audience.

The most popular questions were "Did you take these pictures?" (yes), and "Are these your flowers?" (yes). Lots of people commented on how pretty the pictures were. I only made $55.00 (if they're such pretty pictures, BUY THEM, PEOPLE, (ha ha, just kidding, NOT)), but I realized that it makes me really happy to think that my pictures are hanging in other people's houses. I know that sounds weird, but it's cool to me.

Here's my car, loaded up and ready to go. (Oh, and one of the best parts of the day? Stopping at Dunkin' Donuts on the way to pick up a Boston Creme and a Strawberry Frosted. Yummmmm, donuts.)


Here's my table, ready to rock:


Here's the craft show itself. It was pretty small, only twenty tables, and there were not a lot of customers for a good part of the day. I'm wondering if I might do better at a larger show.



The local high school marching band came by to entertain us:



And they brought the color guard:

Can you believe the hair on that girl on the right? Can you imagine what it must look like when it's not in a ponytail? I wish I had hair like that. (And yes, I realize that these are not very good photos, coming from a person who is trying to SELL HER PHOTOS).

So, all in all, a good day. I tried something I had never done before and lived. Imagine that!

Gimme Money

A while back, I wrote about my latest hare-brained scheme for making money. It's not that I'm broke, it's just that if I am ever going to buy a house, I need to save up a downpayment. SO! Tomorrow my plan goes into action.

Let's just say that it involves a couple of tables set up like this:

And a local town's Fall Festival. It's this, or hire Sally Struthers to shill for me on TV. Wish me luck!

Uh-Oh

CaaaaaaaaaRaaaaaaaaahhMEEEEEEEEEaaaaaaaaaahhh..........

Noooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.........

Product Review - Buffalo Bills

The Bills suck. Again. Moments of brilliance, followed by punts. Because they are PHYSICALLY UNABLE TO MOVE THE BALL DOWN THE FIELD.

News flash, Bills. In order to get a first down, you need only advance the football ten yards. And you get FOUR TRIES TO DO IT. SO DO IT ALREADY, WILL YOU???

Christ.

Oh, and by the way? When you get within ten yards of the end zone, IT WOULD BE NICE IF YOU COULD ACTUALLY SCORE A TOUCHDOWN ONCE IN A WHILE. I'm just sayin'.

I Am Currently Testing the Theory ......

....... of whether one can actually die of boredom. Seriously, it's been a slow week here at the office, and right now, time seems to be slowing down to the point that soon it will actually be running backward.

Also, the song "Cara Mia" by the Indigo Girls has been running through my brain repeatedly for the last couple of hours. Now, I really like this song, but the only parts I know are the words "Cara Mia", the melody of the first couple lines, the words "Harriet the Spy", and the melody for the beginning of the chorus. Because I'm lame. So here's what keeps going through my head, approximately every five minutes:

CaaaaaaRaaaaahMEEEEEEEaaaahh, hum hum hum hum hum hum hum, ...... Harriet the Spy ...., la la la la LA la ............

Repeat every few minutes.

Gah.

Seventy minutes to go.

Guess What This Entry Is About?! C'mon, Guess!

Rocky came home from the vet's last night. He was pretty disheveled and obviously out of sorts and in pain, but he ate lots of (moist, soft, watered down) food and drank plenty of water, checked out the backyard to make sure it was still there, and then slept through until this morning. And this morning, he seemed to be feeling much better.

The vet sent me home with a big bag of meds. Gel stuff to rub on his teeth once a week to help keep tartar from forming (and I will give it the old college try, I promise), liquid arthritis medication to be given once a day(!), and liquid to put in his drinking water, again to help with the tartar situation. And of course, he's still on the liquid antibiotics twice a day. Just call me Nurse.

Final tally, including yearly check-up, vaccines, extensive blood testing, six months of flea meds, antibiotics, overnight hospitalization, sedation, teeth cleaning, tooth extraction, and arthritis and tooth meds (they threw in clipping his nails for free) - $616.49.

Rocky gaining weight (which he has already started to do) - Priceless.

Rocky Update

Yay! Rocky's out of the anesthesia and alert. The vet had to pull the one tooth, and discovered that others had been "resorbed". As explained to me, this means that Rocky's immune system, for whatever reason, "went after" some of his teeth and weakened them to the point that they broke off. The gums closed over the base of the teeth, and they calcified into part of the jaw. I had certainly never ever heard of this before, but the vet assured me that it was quite common in older cats. Live and learn!

I will call the vet's office in a little while to see if Rocky can come home tonight. He has to go back in a couple of weeks to make sure he is continuing to gain weight. Here's hoping!

Waiting ........

Rocky is at the vet's today getting his teeth cleaned. When I dropped him off last night, the vet doing the "intake exam" discovered that one of his big top canine teeth had fractured right off at the base! Poor cat! He lost his other top canine tooth years ago (I have no idea how it happened), and now, here goes the other one.

And of course, I felt like an axe murderer because he had a broken tooth, must have been in a lot of pain, and I never even noticed! Gah, I'm awful! Although, in my defense, Rocky does not like to have his mouth poked around in (does any cat?), so it's not like I could examine his teeth on a regular basis. (I know, I KNOW that you're supposed to brush your cat's teeth. And believe me, I tried. It did not work out. That's why I feed him special "dental diet" cat food.) The only reason I knew the other tooth was missing was because you could see the space when he yawned.

So poor Rocky is at the vet's, getting one tooth pulled and the others cleaned, and he has NO IDEA why all of this is happening to him. And he will wake up all groggy from the anesthetic in a strange cage with strange cats in other cages all around him, and no idea what will happen next. I don't even like to think about it. I keep trying to reassure myself that it had to be done, but still.

So now I am waiting for a call from the vet's, to let me know how everything went, and to find out if he can come home tonight or will have to stay over another night. I HATE waiting for the phone to ring - aaaaaaaaggggghhhhh!

Pull it together, kid.

Movie Review - "For Your Consideration"

I wanted to like this movie. I also wanted to like director Christopher Guest's other movies, "Waiting for Guffman", "Best in Show", and "A Mighty Wind." Unfortunately, none of these movies is as funny as the people involved with them think they are.

"For Your Consideration" is basically a send-up of Hollywood, centering around Oscar buzz for a small, independent movie. As in Guest's other films, the actors mainly improvise their roles. The actors are obviously having a grand time, but I just didn't find the characters and situations funny. Maybe it's just me, but I just didn't enjoy it.

Goodness knows the people Guest picks on are certainly easy targets - Small-town actors (Waiting for Guffman), dog-show fanatics (Best in Show), folk singers (A Mighty Wind), and Hollywood (For Your Consideration). I can't think of any easier target, except maybe Scientologists. Which make his failure to deliver a funny film even more disappointing.

So I didn't enjoy this one, even though I wanted to. Again, maybe it's just me. Did anybody else see this one and like it?

Jesus Saves

When I was a little kid, there was a church in town with a great big neon "JESUS SAVES" sign on the side of the building. For the longest time, I thought that the building was a bank, and the sign was an advertisement. As in, "Jesus saves .......... at First Federal Savings and Loan".

Duh.

Random Office Yuck

The boss just went into the bathroom, took a whiz, and flushed the toilet. All while talking to a client on his cell phone. If I was that client, I would have hung up the phone, then cancelled my contract. Am I overreacting?

Hack 'Em Up Ed brings in leftovers for lunch. Which is fine, except when he microwaves his food, it smells just exactly like what I imagine roadkill would smell like if you heated it up. Also, the office refrigerator is really small, and Hack 'Em Up Ed keeps stashing stuff in there like entire bottles of ketchup. The other day, he placed an entire stick of butter in the fridge. Huh?

Not one of these guys washes his goddam hands after using the bathroom. I actually had to put a sign over the toilet, "Flush After Using", because otherwise they wouldn't. Although things are improving somewhat. We have had (male) employees in the past who would pee all over the bathroom floor. I used to wonder if they did that at home, too.

The boss has been bringing his pain-in-the-ass, whiny, UNHOUSEBROKEN dog into the office. And it is up to the guys to walk it, because the boss would rather slit his wrists than walk his own fucking dog. (And for the record, I WILL NOT WALK THE FUCKING DOG. I went through years of that with his last pain-in-the-ass dog, and I have made it crystal clear that my office dog-walking days are OVER. So there.)

Hack 'Em Up Ed announced the other day that his sixteen year old son is in EIGHTH GRADE. (Kids are usually thirteen or fourteen in eighth grade.) This kid is not learning-disabled, just lazy with an intense dislike of education. And Hack 'Em Up Ed seems kind of proud of this, saying stuff like, "Heck, I went to vocational school, and I turned out o.k.!" Um, Ed? Not really.

Sorry about that. Just some random grumblings.

Book Review - Les Miserables

Spoiler alert! If you are currently reading this book, or plan to read this book, do not scroll down any further! (Um, I know, I am probably the only person my age in the world who has not yet read this book, but, um, whatever.)






I really enjoyed this book, except for one thing - the ending. I mean, COME ON, Jean ValJean suffers his entire life and, in the end, DIES? Oh, HELL NO. He should have recovered from his illness, throttled Cosette and Marius, taken the money, and lived the rest of his life in some beautiful beach resort town. I mean, can't you just imagine Jean ValJean in a swimsuit, lounging on a beach chair, sipping a Mai Tai? Ha ha ha ha ha hahahahahaha.

Seriously, Jean Valjean should have lived long enough to at least enjoy himself FOR ONCE IN HIS DAMN LIFE, and Cosette and Marius should have died. Because they were twits.

The Young and the Restless

Today, for the first time in a while, I did not bother to tape The Young and the Restless so I could watch it when I got home. (And yes, I DO still have a VCR! It's right next to my eight-track tape player! (Ha, ha, of course I do not still have an eight-track-tape player. But, sadly, I do still have a VCR. And I really need a new TV, but I am putting off buying one, because the one I have I bought in (ahem) 1992, and I am sure that new technology ensures that if I buy a new TV, it will sit in the corner in its box, because I will take one try (duration - approximately five hours) at connecting it to the VCR/DVD/cable box and burst into tears. I'm funny that way.))

SO, I did not tape Y&R, because the show massively sucks lately. Here's a few of the reasons why:

1. Jill's fiance, Ji Min (and by the way, those two had zero chemistry), was found dead in a hotel room. With a crushed windpipe. And the preliminary police report indicates that the crushed windpipe was caused by ........ a fall. Oh, come on. How the hell do you fall and crush your windpipe? Of course, we all know that Jack had something to do with this, because it involves the ownership of Jabot, a plot line in which I lost interest many, many months ago. Come to think of it, maybe it involves the ownership of NVP. Got me.

2. The whole Amber/Kevin/Daniel/whoever else/stolen money plot line, which I never have been able to figure out. I know that this was Y&R's annual "Let's spotlight the younger actors during the summer, so that kids who are home from school will get sucked into watching" plotline, but still. And Amber just sets my teeth on edge.

3. The whole "Jenna's psychotic and evil" vs. "Poor Jenna has a brain tumor" thing. All I know is, a few months ago Jenna tried to kill Kevin and Colleen, and now it's true love for Kevin and Jenna. Huh?

4. First they replaced the actress who played Victoria, and now they replaced the actress who played Colleen. Which means that a good deal of the time when someone shows up on screen, I have no idea who they are supposed to be, and have to take my clues from the dialogue.

5. The character of Dru, one of the few I really enjoyed on the show, got knocked off due to a failure in contract negotiations with the actress who played her. And about five minutes after Dru's funeral, her whole family was basically done with mourning and had moved on with their lives.

6. The whole Niki-leaving-Victor-for-her-campaign-manager thing. Oh, please.

Whew! I do go on, don't I? Anyhow, I think I'll give ol' Y&R a break for a while and see if I can get a life.

Oh, and by the way, I am sure that many, many bloggers are doing meaningful, tear-inducing posts about 9/11 today. And here I am, going on and on and on about Y&R. (Oh, and the earlier oil change post! Let's not forget about the oil change post!) I'm shallow like that.

You Break It, You Bought It

I dropped off my car for an oil change this morning, and, as usual, BECAUSE IT"S A SATURN, something went wrong.

They called me from the garage and let me know that the oil filter housing cap broke as they were removing it. They had ordered another one, and it would be $26.00.

Hello? You broke the part removing it, and you want me to pay for it?

Am I the only one who does not think this is fair?

It's Not His Thyroid . . . .

The vet called Friday night with Rocky's blood test results. It's not his thyroid. It's not his liver. It's not his kidneys. It's his ..... teeth?

Turns out that Rocky has an infection in his blood, which the vet thinks is caused by some pretty severe tartar buildup. Now, I am mindful of Rocky's teeth. He will not let me brush them, but I do feed him special "dental diet" food, and the vet checks Rocky's teeth every year. For the past couple of years he had noticed some tartar buildup, but of course to clean a cat's teeth you have to anesthetize them, and vets are reluctant to do that with cats Rocky's age (15).

Well, it looks like things have come to a head. So on Saturday I ran out to the vet's office to pick up some antibiotics, and next Tuesday they will clean Rocky's teeth. The vet assured me that they would be very careful with the anesthetic, they would monitor him very closely, and I had no reason to fear.

Oh, and the antibiotics are in liquid form this time, as opposed to pills. And the liquid tastes absolutely horrible, as I can attest to from Saturday night, when Rocky shook his head while I was dosing him, giving me a big old dose myself right across the face. Yuck! Poor Rocky!

Climb Ev'ry Mountain (Or Not)

Last weekend, I went to Aqua Terra Park. First I walked around the pond. The trail is nice, but it is always, always, shoe-sucking-off muddy. It wasn't too bad this time, probably because it hasn't rained lately. There's a lot of other trails, too, but none of them are marked, and I always end up getting lost because I am directionally challenged (i.e., an idiot), so I stayed away from those on this particular visit.

Next, I got the bright idea to climb some of the old ski trails across the road (there used to be a ski resort there; you'd have to know this area to fully appreciate the ridiculousness of that particular idea). It turned out that climbing the trails wasn't the best idea I've had lately, because (a) I'm afraid of heights, and (b) hello, they're very, very, um, steep. I didn't embarrass myself as badly as the last time I was there, when I literally scooched my way back down a trail on my butt because I was too afraid to walk back down it (because it was steep), but still.

Anyhow, here's a pic of good ol "Lucky Hill", as it is called on the maps.

I know, it doesn't look that bad, but where the dirt road goes up the hill? It's practically straight up.

On the bright side, I did see some more kidwork:

They had built a diving board out over the pond. The pond where, supposedly, No Swimming is allowed. Stick it to The Man, kids!

Eight Days

It has now been eight days since I took Rocky to the vet, and I am STILLWAITING for the blood test results. WTF? Where the hell is the lab, Bolivia?

Rose of Sharon

All three Rose of Sharons are in bloom. The one above, which I was told would have blue blooms, actually turned out to have pinkish/purple blooms. The one which I was told would have red blooms, actually has white blooms. Go figure! And the third one is blooming with double pink blossoms. Very pretty. And I actually girded my loins and pruned them all back so they're not all scraggly next year. I hate to prune - I can't stand to cut off blossoms. But now I have two big vases of flowers upstairs, so it's all good.

The "tree" hydrangea in the garden has also decided to bloom. Yay! The oriental lily smells just like bubble gum - you can smell it all over the back yard. And when I was up at the lake last weekend, Alabama gave me a potted lily that she bought at Lowe's which has buds on it, but no blooms yet. I hope it hurries up - the first frost will be coming soon. (Sigh).

I have no idea why all this stuff waited so late to bloom, but I'm glad it's all blooming now.

Hurricane TIB Makes Landfall; Dozens Missing, Feared Dead

I was going to do a great big long post about TIB's latest temper tantrum, carried out in front of many people on Labor Day weekend.

I just don't have the heart for it. I just don't care anymore. Right now, if I could say one thing to her, it would be, "Blow it out your ass, you fucking bitch".

I'm mature like that.

Rocky

Rocky has been losing weight lately. He has always been a husky (fat) cat, and lately I could feel his hip bones when I petted him. So Thursday, we went to the vet.

The vet thinks Rocky may have a thyroid problem. If so, we have three options:

1. Daily medication for the rest of his life.

2. Surgery to remove the thyroid gland, followed by daily medication for the rest of his life.

3. Implantation of radium pellets into his thyroid, which would cure the problem, but would require total isolation for one month after the surgery, until he becomes non-radioactive. Um, that's not really an option, as far as I'm concerned.

We won't know anything until the blood test results come back, some time this week. And you should have seen the amount of blood they took out of that cat! Holy cow!

I am scared shitless right now. But also almost hoping that it is a thyroid problem, because at least that is treatable. (And the medication he would be taking would be the exact same medication they give people, albeit at a lesser dose.)

Look, I'm not stupid. (OK, some people would argue that point, but that's neither here nor there.) Rocky is 15 years old, and I know that he's not going to live forever. But I want his passing, when it comes, to be a peaceful one. I can't bear the thought of continued weight loss, spiraling health problems, and euthanasia. So while it sucks, at least the thyroid thing is treatable, right?

I don't feel so good right now. And neither does Rocky.

Yet Another Hare-Brained Scheme

I've been kicking around ideas to make some extra money for a while now. (Does anyone besides me remember the old "I Love Lucy" tv show, where Lucy was alway coming up with crazy ideas to make money, often dragging her friend Ethel along for the ride? I watched way too much tv as a kid.)


Anyhow, I've finally come up with something that might actually work, and will not interfere with my regular job. On Tuesday, I met with some advisors from SCORE (Service Corps of Retired Executives). This is a national group of volunteers who advise entrepreneurs and small business owners. They were very helpful and gave me lots of advice. Wednesday, I got my state sales tax ID number, which makes it legal for me to sell stuff. Woo-Hoo!

More on this as it evolves. (Or De-volves, as the case may be.)

You're WHERE??!!

My boss called me at work about an hour ago. Here's the conversation:

Boss: "Good morning, RockyCat. How are you?"

Me: "I'm just fine; how are you?"

Boss: "Welllll, I was on my way to Home Depot this morning, and the cell phone rang, so I picked it up and was talking, and there was a cop right behind me, so I got pulled over."

At this point I just started laughing, because this guy gets more tickets than a dime-a-dance girl, and my boss was laughing, too. Then he continued:

"Sooo, I'm here in (insert name of town), and I might need you to come and help me out."

And I'm thinking, help him out how? I mean, it's just a traffic ticket, right? So I said:

"But you'll just get an appearance ticket and be on your way, right?"

Boss: "Weellll, I was driving on a suspended license".

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So now the boss is at the police station, while they determine if they will let him go or throw him in jail! If they do throw him in jail, I suppose I will have to call the bank and have some transfers made so that I CAN POST BAIL! FOR MY BOSS!

Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!

The other guys in the office think it's pretty funny, too. (Why yes, of COURSE I told everyone! All two of them!) And I am having an extremely hard time not cracking up on the phone when clients call. Just imagine, I could say, "Sorry, he can't come to the phone right now. BECAUSE HE'S IN JAIL!" So I take the calls, speak politely, and then laugh hysterically as soon as I hang up.

Please understand, my boss, while generally a nice-enough guy, is one of those people who think the rules do not apply to them. Who think they are somehow more privileged than everyone else, and therefore can do as they damn well please, because they are "better" than other people. (Think Leona Helmsley, and her comment that "Only the little people pay taxes".)

So the idea of him sitting in jail is just kinda cracking me up right now. And the rest of the office is getting a great big kick out of it, too.

I wonder if I can get ahold of his mug shot? If so, I'll post it here!

Ha ha ha ha ha!

Ooooops - he just walked in the door. I guess they let him go free. See what I mean about "privilege"? Oh well, it was fun while it lasted.

What an Insult!

Best insult I've heard in a long time:

"If dumb was dirt, she'd cover about an acre."

Ha ha ha haha haha ha haa!

The Best Buck-Sixty-Two I've Spent In A Long Time

A strawberry/raspberry twirl soft-serve ice cream cone, eaten while sitting on a picnic bench in between the ice cream stand and the mini-golf course, on a day when the temp hit 94 degrees with 75% humidity.

You'd better believe I'll be pulling that memory up come January.

Year in Review

As of today, it has been a year since I started this blog. Here's some of the things that happened to me in the past year.

1. I painted (almost all of) my apartment.

2. I took a watercolor painting class.

3. I bought a digital camera (whoo-hoo!).

4. I celebrated(?) my twenty year anniversary at my place of employment.

5. I was terrorized by a disabled person.

6. My sister TIB stopped speaking to me, and will not even speak to me long enough to tell me exactly why she's not speaking to me.


7. I looked into buying a house, and discovered that I need to start saving my pennies (many, many pennies).

8. I came up with several hare-brained schemes to make more pennies, one of which may actually work.


9. I started this blog, which has been a tremendous amount of fun, and a great stress reliever.

I'm sure there's lots more, and if I think of anything interesting I'll update.

Jive Turkey Junction

I was down at Choconut Creek a couple of weeks ago, and some kids had partitioned off a swimming area using rocks:

I thought that was just the bee's knees, until I was up at Jones Park last weekend and discovered this kid-made structure:

Above is the fire pit area. It's about four feet tall and ten feet long. In front of it is the barricade (below). Note the "windows" in both the barricade and the fire pit wall. They also built stone chairs and pathways all along the creek.

And that sign in the bottom left of the photo above? Here's a close-up:

Is that great or what? I remember my pale efforts at forts as a child and feel ashamed. These kids rock (literally).

Hydrangeas and other garden related news

My beautiful blue hydrangea decided to go pink this year.

While I don't mind pink, I really prefer blue. So after much Googling, I discovered that applications of Aluminum Sulfate to the soil could turn it blue again, over a period of several months. The only place that sold the stuff locally was Agway, which only sold it in seven pound bags, which according to the application instructions should be enough Aluminum Sulfate to turn every hydrangea in my neighborhood blue until the end of time. Whoopee!

At least this one is blooming. My two other hydrangeas opted out of the blooming process entirely this year. I relocated one, thinking maybe it's in the wrong spot. The other one is a much bigger hydrangea, kind of like a little tree, that is on the side of the garden against the shed wall. Given the size of the branches (actually, kinda more like "trunks") on that thing, it's not going to be moving any time soon.

Come to think of it, I'm having the same problem with my Rose of Sharons - of the three, only the one in the middle is blooming (and spectacularly). However, the other two do have buds, so there is hope, as long as they realize that the first frost is not that far off.

While I was up at the cottage the last time, Alabama let me dig some tiger lilies (also known as ditch lilies) out of her yard - I got two great big clumps. I was surprised at how easily they came out of the ground - I went over there with everything short of a backhoe, and in the end, I think I could have pulled them out with my hands.

I also put in another oriental lily - I swore I was not going to buy any more perennials this year, but the oriental lily I put in last year is not doing so hot, so I got another one. I just love the way they smell - like bubble gum!

I started some morning glories in pots on the ground by the deck support posts earlier this year, and trained them to grow up the posts. Now they're all the way up onto my back porch on the second floor at eye level - that's quite a climb!

It's hard to believe that the gardening season is winding down, although it's been easier to believe the past few days, with the weather all cool and cloudy and rainy. Now is when I start seeing what I did wrong last year, and what needs to be divided/moved in the spring. Now is when I say, "Next year I'm going to do it better!". Yeah.

Because I Am An Adult

I just called TIB's house. No one was home, but I left a message on the answering machine asking if we could get together to talk and "get this whole thing sorted out, before it spirals any further out of control". Ummmm, probably not the best choice of words, now that I think about it, but at least I made an effort.

Now the ball's in their court. Hopefully TIB will not show up tonight at my place with a baseball bat. Although if she came unarmed, I could totally take her in a fight.

When Product Association Goes Terribly Wrong

I really like Marc Anthony shampoo and conditioner. But I don't buy it anymore, because every time I would look at the bottle, all I could think of is that creepy, ghouly guy who's married to Jennifer Lopez.

TIB Strikes Again!

Last month, I wrote here about TIB and her husband creating a bunch of drama. Yesterday, I went to TIB's house to see if Mom wanted to go for a walk. TIB would barely speak to me and would not look at me. Whatever. And they were going to a church picnic, so Mom couldn't go for a walk.


I got back to my car and realized that I had forgotten to tell TIB about a dentist appointment I had rescheduled for Mom. I am the designated dentist appointment driver, but TIB likes to have this stuff on her calender. So I went back inside, told TIB the new date so she could put it on her calendar, and added, "and I'll take Mom" (because I always do).


TIB exploded. She started shouting, right in front of Mom, "Oh, Noooooo. WE'LL take Mom to the dentist. WE CERTAINLY wouldn't want to INCONVENIENCE YOU".


Not wanting the whole scene to get any uglier, I said goodbye to Mom and left. Mom followed me out the door, all upset and apologizing. Apologizing! So I tried to calm Mom down, explained that TIB and her husband were angry with me, not her, and said I'd talk to her soon.


Jesus Christ! Enough with the drama, already! I guess I should probably call TIB and ask to meet with her and her husband to see if we (she) could just all act like adults about this whole thing, but right now I just can't summon the enthusiasm.


I guess what's really bugging me is that they're all pissed off at me over something that was basically Alabama's screwup. I'm just the closest target. And I'm hesitant to take action, because I really just want all this to stop, and I'm sick of trying to be the responsible one, and I wish TIB and her husband would just GO AWAY. FAR, FAR AWAY.


So I'm torn. Over just ignoring this whole clustermess, or trying to be the grownup. Sigh.

Mystery

While I was up at the lake this past weekend, Rocky came in from outside one night in the middle of the night and jumped up on my bed. When I reached to pet him, I felt that the top of his head was soaking wet. At first I assumed that it was raining out, but when I petted his back, it was dry. It was just the top of his head that was wet.

Then I got worried. Rocky, in his youth, was a fighter, and I was afraid that he had tackled some random animal outside who fought back, and instead of water, what I was feeling was blood.

So I got up and turned on the light, and to my relief it was just water that was soaking his head. But several times during our visit to the lake, he came into the cottage with a soaking wet head. We finally figured out that there must be a pipe under the cottage that is leaking (Rocky loves to hang out in the crawlspace under the cottage), and that Rocky must be laying under the leak and getting his head wet.

But, here's the thing. Rocky loves to drink water, but he hates to be wet. Absolutely hates it. And there's plenty of room in that crawlspace. So why on earth would he be laying under a leaky pipe? And if he was laying under the leaky pipe, wouldn't the ground underneath the leaky pipe be wet, therefore getting the rest of him wet?

It's a mystery.

Push the Button!

I just got back from a few days at the lake with Texas, Alabama and three of Alabama's grandkids. When I got up there, Texas had already been there for a few days, and she said she couldn't get her TV to work in her new camper. She and Alabama had monkeyed and monkeyed, and made a trip to Radio Shack, and nothing worked. So I took a look at it, and all she could get was static. I asked her if she had tried hooking it up at the cottage (I thought maybe something was wrong with the camper hookup), but she said the TV would not switch from channel 2, so it must be the TV that had the problem. I asked her if she had tried pushing a funky little button that I noticed on the wall above the TV hookup, and she said that she must have, since she and Alabama had tried everything they could possibly think of to get the TV to work.

So, the next day we went to CrapMart, which is basically the only game in town up there for appliances, but Texas didn't want to spend a massive hundred bucks for a new TV (because she is rich, you know, but also incredibly, um, cheap (I know, I KNOW; somebody's going to say, "that's how she got rich, you idiot!" Go right ahead)). SO, because I am a card-carrying member of the Salvation Armani, I suggested we stop at the thrift store to see if they had any TVs. Now, I am fairly certain this was Texas's first foray into a thrift store, because while she is cheap, she is also designer label all the way. And not really into, ahem, used clothing.

As an aside, no one in my family reads this blog, in case you're wondering. I decline to give them the web address, because anyone in my family who read this thing would never speak to me again. Not that that's necessarily a bad thing, in some cases.

Anyway, sure enough, they had a TV at the thrift store for 25 bucks. I warned her that all they do at the thrift store is plug them in and make sure they turn on, they do not check for picture quality or anything else, and Texas said fine, fine, I don't care, I'll take it.

SO, we get back to the camper, plug in the new TV, and ..... nothing. Just static, like the other TV. So I took the thrift store TV over to the cottage, hooked it up to the cable, and, voila, picture! Granted, the thrift store TV had some issues, like you can't get a picture unless you pull up the on-screen menu box, but still .... picture!
Then we took it back to the camper, hooked it up again, and .... static. Until I pushed that funky little button above the TV hookup, and ..... picture!

Well, you can guess the rest of this one. We hooked up her old TV, and ..... picture! Obviously, even though she and Alabama had tried everything, they had never tried pushing in the button directly above the TV hookup.

So now there's a spare TV up at the lake. And all weekend long, of course, no one could pass byArline without saying "Push the Button!" And laughing hysterically.

Push the Button!

Movie Review - "Jesus Camp"

"Jesus Camp" is a documentary about children at an Evangelical church camp. And let me tell you, this is the most frightening movie I've seen in ....... possibly ever.

All I can say is, I strongly recommend that everyone see this movie. I cannot remember the last time a movie made me think so much, about so many different issues.

I knew that the current Administration had close ties with the Evangelical movement, and that Evangelical leaders regularly confer with President Bush. But I really had no idea what Evangelicalism was all about until I watched this movie. And the way these people are indoctrinating (brainwashing, if you will) their children at a very young age disturbed me deeply. Now, most religious people try to pass on their religious beliefs to their children, which is fine by me. But to watch a woman home-schooling her child tell him repeatedly that "Evolution is a lie" really bothered me. And to watch very young children speaking in tongues and sobbing hysterically over their ecstasy in the Lord made me upset. These are kids, for Pete's sake! The phrase "Hitler Youth" kept coming to mind. Especially when these kids would talk about "laying down their life for Jesus". Hello! You're eight years old!

Now, I was going to add a disclaimer, something along the lines of, "Not that there's anything wrong with being an Evangelical", but, you know what? I can't do it. Because after watching this movie (which was painfully even-handed, by the way), I think there is something wrong with these people. I think there is something wrong with anyone who is so totally consumed by a certain belief that there is no room in their mind for any other possibilities. That anyone who is not on their side needs to be converted to their side, as quickly as possible, because, after all, their belief is the only truth, and there is no room for any truth other than theirs.

I know I may not have articulated this very clearly, but let me say this: This movie will scare the shit right out of you. Unless you are an Evangelical, in which case you will probably smile and nod right through the whole thing.

My Sentiments Exactly

Head on over to Girl Named Boo, who perfectly expresses my sentiments about Barry Bonds.

Chandelier

A while back, I got it into my head that I would like a chandelier (because I'm weird). So I started looking in thrift stores, flea markets, etc. Everything I found had to be hard-wired into the ceiling, and visions of me frying myself while trying to monkey with electrical wiring made me look into the plug-in type, all of which were either ugly or too expensive. Then one day I was at the local CrapMart and found a chandelier on sale for seven bucks!

Now, this seven dollar job had to be hard-wired too, but by this time I was thinking that maybe I didn't actually need the light from the chandelier (my apartment is always lit up like a runway at O'Hare from the existing lighting because my eyesight is going to crap as I get older), but rather what I was interested in was the shape and the idea of a chandelier (I can talk myself into anything.).

As an aside, these CrapMart chandeliers were in an aisle marked as "college dorm furnishings". Which made me wonder why on earth you would send a kid off to a college dorm with a chandelier that had to be hard wired into a ceiling.

So anyway, I bought the CrapMart chandelier and went to work. Here's the before (the prisms were still wrapped in plastic):



And here's the after:



I painted it, bought new prisms on e-bay, added on some glass fish I already had, and plopped a parrot in the middle. The colors are a little too nursery-room for me, and I'm looking for something other than a beanie-baby parrot for the centerpiece, and the whole thing needs some tweaking to make it more interesting/less babyish. Any ideas? (Other than throwing the whole thing off the back porch, that is.)

93 over 62

Hah! Beat that! My blood pressure ROCKS!

Product Review - Reese's Peanut Butter & Banana Creme Cups

I am in love. YUM.

Giving Myself Permission

I was going to go up to the cottage this weekend. I have the new baseboard heater unit for the back porch, some of the family are going up, it's going to be nice and sunny tomorrow so I could get some good photos of the cottage (I have surprisingly few), and I really should go.

Um, no.

I am going to get the lounge chair out of the attic, get the kiddy pool out of the shed and fill it up, and relax in the backyard.

The older I get, the more I realize that a lot of "should do"s are really a waste of time. I will be much happier at home this weekend, for various reasons, and anybody who was expecting me to be up at the lake will get over it.

I am a little nervous about this change of heart of mine, because until recently, "shoulds" pretty much ruled my roost. And who knows, maybe sometime soon, they will again. Maybe it's just the summer weather. Maybe it's just a passing fancy. But right now, certain "shoulds" can just go fly a kite.

Jabba Update

As some of you may recall, I was having problems with my downstairs neighbor, Jabba, and his penchant for cranking his TV volume to 11 ALL THE TIME. This started when he moved in, in March, and continued for weeks and weeks and weeks. And I tried talking to him, and talking to his son (my landlord), and talking to the building supervisor, and blah blah blah, nothing was working. Because he kept insisting that his TV was not too loud, despite all evidence to the contrary. And I started looking for a new apartment.

SO, one night last a couple of months ago, I got home from work a little after five to REALLY LOUD NOISE from downstairs. I called Jabba on the phone, and he did not answer. Hmmm, I thought, he's using new tactics. He's checking his caller ID and not picking up when he sees it's me calling. Why did I not just go knock on his door, you ask? Because this guy skeeves me out. I mean, he is disgusting and creepy and scary. The less in-person interface, the better.

A little after seven, the noise was still REALLY LOUD, so I called him again. And he was obviously disgruntled, insisted the noise was not too loud, and basically told me to piss off. So I called his son (my landlord), got his voice mail, and left a message saying that if his dad did not turn down his TV, I would have no choice but to call the cops.

Now, I am no fan of the cops in this area. They are basically useless and tend to be misogynistic, so I avoid contact with them at all costs. Plus, I hate to involve police in what is basically an apartment building dispute.

By 11 p.m., I had been listening to Jabba's REALLY LOUD NOISE for approximately 6 hours straight. And I cracked. I called the cops. The cops showed up, talked to Jabba, and then ...... silence.

Jabba's son called me at work the next day, furious. How DARE I call the cops on his dad! His dad was sleeping when the cops came! The cops said his dad's TV was not too loud! And I asked him, is this what the cops told you, or what your dad told you? And he said, well, um, he didn't actually talk to the cops ........

Once I got the son calmed down, we started going over ways to try to resolve this problem, for approximately the billionth time. And for the billionth time, I told the son, it's not the overall TV volume that's the problem, the problem is the bass. Jabba has a surround-sound TV, and he was obviously keeping the surround-sound bass volume cranked all the time. And something finally clicked for his son. He said, "How about if I ask my dad to turn down the bass?" Which is what I had basically been begging his father to do for the past several weeks. And I said, "You know what? That sounds like a really good idea".

And I got home that night to ...... silence. And with a few minor exceptions, all has been fine, volume-wise, ever since.

And I do have some idea now why it took so long for the idea of "turn down the bass" to sink in. While I was talking to the son, he said something along the lines of, "I know my dad's simple, but ...." AHA! From talking to Jabba, I knew that he wasn't the sharpest tool in the shed, but I had no idea that he was actually retarded. Jabba being retarded explains a whole lot about his behavior.

Bottom line, it took me several weeks, but the situation finally came under control. I'm a stubborn little cuss. And now I am happy.

Somebody Actually Went Ahead And Did It . . . .

. . . . named their kid "Michael Hunt", that is. I know it's true, because "Michael Hunt" was in the local newspaper this morning. Oh, dear Lord.

What, you may ask, is wrong with the name "Michael Hunt"? Here's what's wrong, for those of you who may have missed this part of your grade school education:

"Michael Hunt" would, of course, be called "Mike Hunt". Go ahead, say "Mike Hunt" three times fast. Got it? Good. Poor, poor kid.

No wonder he showed up in the "police blotter" section of the paper.

Deformed Rabbits at the Bottom of the World

We had to swim and then drive to get there where it was warm.

What a Great Idea!

Bacon salt. Nuff said.

Vacation Ospreys!

While on vacation, I spent some time at the Montezuma Wildlife Refuge. Coincidentally, my brother started his employment in wildlife management at Montezuma (he currently manages a refuge in Washington state) approximately 45 years ago - he is now getting ready to retire from a long and storied career. While at Montezuma, I went to the Tschache Pool, where bald eagles are breeding. I saw my first bald eagle at Montezuma several years ago, back when they were still very rare in these parts. I actually saw one in my hometown earlier this year; they've truly made a spectacular comeback. Here's the Tschache Pool:

I also visited the South Spring Pool. Right across the road, ospreys are raising their young on top of a utility pole:

What road, you ask? Why, this very busy two lane road:

While I was there, some other people pulled up and got out of their car to observe. Then this guy walked across the road and into the field to try and get a closer picture, which did not please momma osprey. It did not please me either, because pretty much the number one rule at wildlife refuges is, do not bug the wildlife. Do not feed the wildlife, do not upset the habitat, and do not try to get closer to a visibly upset animal so you can get a closer picture. Hello - they're called zoom lenses! You might want to try one!

So anyway, this guy is walking closer and closer to the utility pole, and momma osprey is all squawking and flapping her wings, and I did not speak up, because you know what? Ospreys are really big birds. With really big beaks. And I was seriously waiting for momma osprey to go all medieval on this guy's ass, swoop down, and take a big old chunk out of him. There's your vacation souvenir, buddy!

But finally, the guy's wife called to him to stop bugging the damn bird already, and they got back in their car and left. So all's well that ends well, but if momma osprey had swooped down and attacked? I would still be there, rolling on the ground, laughing.

If you would like to check out the live osprey webcam from a nest at the North Spring pool, click here. (Updated to add: On August 5, the babies fledged. So if you are currently clicking, all you'll get is an empty nest. And pretty soon Montezuma will take the web cam down, since looking at an empty nest is pretty boring. Sorry about that! It was fun while it lasted.)

What Not To Watch

Hmmm, let's see what's on tv tonight:

NBC - "Age of Love" - Various skanky young things/older women compete for the attentions of an aging tennis star.

ABC - "Wife Swap" (self-explanatory), followed by "Six Degrees of Martina McBride" - Various singers try to get a record deal.

Fox - "Hell's Kitchen" - Various chefs compete for a job while being viciously berated/humiliated by the head chef.

VH1 - "Rock of Love with Bret Michaels" - Various skanky young things compete for the affections of a washed-up former rock star.

OK, let's try the classier channels, then.

Discovery - "Great White Shark Uncaged" -Self-explanatory.

Bravo - "Kathy Griffin Show" - Washed-up, never-was comedienne tries desperately to make it onto the A-list by, among other things, hosting a gay-porn awards show.

History - "Modern Marvels: Sticky Stuff" - About duct tape and scotch tape. Probably involves no skanky young things, but does have the potential to bore me to death.

Sigh. Luckily, I am reading a fairly good book right now - "The Rapture of Canaan" by Sheri Reynolds. Unfortunately, I will finish it long before bedtime tonight. Time for a trip to the library!

Because What's A Vacation Without Buying Lots of Stuff You Don't Really Need?

I bought greeting cards:

And a button or two:

T-shirts at the Montezuma Wildlife Refuge:

And my "best" find, from an antiques store in Seneca Falls:

I call this my "fairy tiara". It's about six inches across. I actually bought two, because they just tickled me. I hung one on the moose lamp:

And that's about it, as far as vacation purchases (other than necessary stuff for the cottage). I try not to pick up too much stuff on vacation, because then I get it home, unwrap it, and go "WTF?! Why did I buy this? And where am I going to put it?" And then, of course, there's the sticker shock when you get your next credit card statement. I think I did pretty good this year.

Cats Need A Vacation, Too (OK, probably not, but I needed a post title)

Here is Rocky at the lake (that's my dad's memorial behind him):

When we got home on Sunday, Rocky scouted out his property, then found a shady spot on the lawn, curled up, and snoozed, and snoozed, and snoozed. Vacations are hard work!

Amazing Vacation Discovery!

Pre-mixed Manhattans! With the liquor already in them! By the jug! At the liquor store!

My life may have been changed forever. I am pretty much strictly a beer drinker, although I do enjoy the occasional mixed drink. However, because I am apparently lacking the mixology gene, I can only enjoy mixed drinks when someone else is making them. For example, I love a Manhattan. But I have no idea what goes into one, or how you would actually make one.

So! While on vacation, my sister Alabama and I stopped at a liquor store to buy some rum for my Mom, as she likes rum & coke. And, while I was wandering about the store, I found, to my amazement, pre-mixed Manhattans! By the jug! Thank you, Lord!

Of course, this then meant a trip to the grocery store to buy some maraschino cherries, because to me, the cherries & the cherry juice are what makes a Manhattan so tasty. Although, who knows, it could be almost anything, since I have no idea what is actually in a Manhattan.

I am pleased to report that I had no hangover whatsoever the next morning. Although I don't remember too much of the night before.

More From Vacation

While I was on vacation, the owner of the marina and his wife came up for a few days (their place is right next to our cottage, which the marina owns). The owner's wife complained about the smell of the seaweed (oh please, you're right next to a lake!), so right away there was a backhoe (or maybe a skidsteer? I'm not really up on my heavy equipment terminology) and a truck by the water, clearing out the seaweed (which, of course, reappeared a few days later, in the form of new seaweed).

In the photo below, the owner's wife is on the left, and Saggy Pants is on the right. Saggy Pants works for the marina. I call him Saggy Pants because, well, look at his shorts! Yes indeed folks, that's not a weird camera angle; they really do hang that low. They are always just about to fall off his butt. And any time he bends over, you don't just get "plumber's crack", you get "plumber's butt". I am talking about his entire butt being exposed.

Now, I have two questions. First, can't he feel the breeze? I mean, his entire butt is exposed every time he bends over. How can he possibly not be aware of this fact? Is he an exhibitionist? Has he never heard of belts? I know that lots of guys experience plumber's crack; heaven knows, I've watched enough repairmen at work. Can they honestly not know that their butts are exposed? Are they having "out-of-butt" experiences? Please, I'm dying to know!

Secondly, if anyone has a better nickname for this guy than "Saggy Pants", please let me know.

I was going to do a post on ospreys today, but for some reason the whole butt question just seemed to need to be addressed. As you can tell, it doesn't take much to entertain me while on vacation! Oh yeah, and looking again at that picture, doesn't it look like if the owner's wife could just gift some of her butt to Saggy Pants, they'd both be happier?

Scenes from Vacation

While on vacation, I visited Buttermilk Falls. (For some reason, Blogger will not let me post all the photos I want to today, but here's a few.)
Buttermilk Falls has lots of interesting rock formations and deep pools:



You probably wouldn't want to go swimming in this particular spot, what with the rocks and the waterfalls and all:

But everybody swims at the bottom of the falls:

I'm Baaaaaaack

And I survived my vacation. Parts were very, very good, and parts were not so good. Here's a not-so-good part:

I got up there on Saturday, expecting that my sister Alabama, her grandkids, and my Mom would all be up there. Um, no. It turns out that Alabama had to go back south for a week, so she had taken my Mom back to TIB's house to stay while she and the grandkids were gone. Alabama and the grandkids got up to the lake shortly after I did, and Alabama said she would go to TIB's house Sunday to pick up Mom.

On Sunday, Alabama got very sick. The lying-in-bed, puking kind of sick. It turned out this particular illness had run its course first through the grandkids, then my nephew, and now it was Alabama's turn. I offered to go pick up Mom, but Alabama wanted to wait a few days, so that Mom did not catch this nasty illness from Alabama. Alabama said she would call TIB and explain the situation.

Alabama didn't call.

TIB's husband called the cottage Wednesday afternoon, absolutely furious that no one had come to get Mom. He read me the riot act and then hung up on me. Alabama called him back, at which point he read her the riot act, accused she and I of not loving our Mother, and other assorted crap. Alabama explained the situation about her illness, but of course TIB and her husband were mad about not getting a phone call, to which I have to say, the phone works both ways. Yes, Alabama should have called them, but why didn't they call her to see what was going on? Instead they let themselves get worked up into a foaming-at-the-mouth rant.

So Alabama drove down to TIB's on Thursday, did more explaining, blah blah blah. And she brought Mom back up to the lake. And TIB and her husband are still all pissed off and full of drama. And you know what? I don't give a shit. I am so sick of TIB and her husband's attitude that from now on, I just don't care. Which should drive them wild, because we all know that it's no fun to throw a hurricane-strength tantrum if no one reacts.

So! More new about the vacation another time. Right now I am staring at a huge pile of work on my desk that I am slowly wading through (taking a break right now). And I wonder why the temps always, always have to rearrange the desktop on my computer. This last temp actually took my sidebar of blog favorites and re-arranged it into separate little header categories, totally out of order from the way I had it. Sigh.

On the bright side, it has been pouring rain all afternoon. So I feel much better about being back to work. Speaking of back to work ...........

Last Day

Holy cow! First of all, internet access at the lake!

This is the last night of my vacation, and while parts were good, my family is really starting to wear me down. Even the good guys. Right now, due to a misunderstanding that was not my fault, my sister TIB, who already considers me a "bad guy", now considers me to be basically the Antichrist. And I'm getting really, really tired of that.

So I go home tomorrow, and will hopefully have some happier posts regarding my vacation! Just wanted to try out this wireless internet access thing - and this is such a stress reliever.

Back home tomorrow! Yay!

Vacation

I will be on vacation as of 4:30 this afternoon. Which means that very shortly, my boss will wander into the office, ask for a cup of coffee, look through a couple of magazines, call some of his buddies and gab, and just waste time in general until about 2:30 this afternoon, when he will decide, "Holy shit! The secretary's going on vacation! We've gotta get this report done, and this information e-mailed, and this letter to this person completed, and we've gotta run a couple hundred drawings and get them FedExed" and blah blah blah. We, of course, means me. And even though I have hired a temp for next week, God Forbid that my boss actually make her do any work.

Which means that at 2:30 this afternoon (or thereabouts; the actual time may vary), my boss, after farting around all morning and half the afternoon, will give me approximately six hours of work to complete in two hours' time.

Now, I am capable of working extremely quickly when necessary. So I will work my butt off, and by 5:30 this afternoon, I will be exhausted and miserable, but all the work will be done. And my vacation can start. With me practically in tears.

How do I know this will happen? Because it happens every fucking time. No matter how many times I remind him that I am going on vacation, no matter how hard I try to get his butt in gear the week before, he waits until the last minute every time.

Ha ha! Only a few more hours to go! I'll be back on the twenty-third, unless I kill a few family members while on vacation (or my boss this afternoon). Bye!

Catholicism, Part 2

A while back, I did a post about how the Catholic Church expounds that you will not go to heaven unless you are Catholic. And I got some disagreement, which is great! I want to hear from everybody, whether they agree with me or not.

I opened up the newspaper this morning, and underneath the headline "Pontiff says Catholicism only true path to salvation" was the following article from The Associated Press (I'll quote the first paragraph only, for brevity's sake):

"Pope Benedict XVI reasserted the primacy of the Roman Catholic Church, approving a document released Tuesday that says other Christian communities are either defective or not true churches and Catholicism provides the only true path to Salvation".

I rest my case.

Deer Antlers, pterodactyls and other random stuff

Here are the deer antlers I got at Jimay's Flea Market. Thanks, Jimay's! And thank you, deer. I'm really, really sorry about that. Check out the size of that tree in the background behind the right side of the antlers. You can get an idea of the scale by looking at the lawn furniture at bottom right. If that tree ever comes down in a storm, it's gonna take out half the neighborhood.

My neighbors two doors down have these pterodactyls (or maybe they're vultures?) in their backyard. They are made out of concrete and about 5 feet tall. Very cool, no?

My next door neighbor's backyard. Come set a spell! For some reason, these chairs just fascinate me. And check out the belly-up yellow duck pool!


Because I cannot stop buying shoes:

Ludlowville Falls:

According to Rolling Stone . . . .

I've been reading Rolling Stone magazine since I was in high school. For a while, I borrowed issues from the library, then I subscribed. A while back, they were running a special - a lifetime subscription for $99.00. And even though I am incredibly cheap, I signed up.

You know how when you subscribe to a magazine, the expiration date of the subscription appears on the mailing label? Well, according to Rolling Stone, my "lifetime subscription" expires on October 11, 2055.

Hmm. Well, at least they're willing to bet I'm gonna make it to 91. But not 92.

When Siblings Attack

I was talking to one of my nephews a couple of weeks ago when he reminded me of one time when I was babysitting him and his younger brother. I had a pet tarantula at the time (don't even ask), and he wanted me to take it out of its cage so he could see it, even though it frightened him. Well, I was terrified of that stupid tarantula, so I cooked up a scheme. I told him that the tarantula didn't like to be picked up if other people were in the room, so if he would go wait in the bedroom closet (!) I would take out the tarantula and bring it to him. While he was in the closet, I grabbed a hank of brown yarn, kind of fluffed it up, then opened the closet door and thrust the yarn into his face. I will never forget his look of sheer terror, right before he burst into tears and collapsed. Ah, memories! I am in my forties, he is in his thirties, and we both vividly remember that one.

I was a terrible kid. Another time, I hid my sister Ditzy's glasses the night of her junior prom. She was resigned to going to her prom in her old glasses, which literally had a big piece of adhesive tape on the nosepiece holding them together, when I miraculously "found" her other pair of glasses. Nobody was fooled by that one.

Of course, I do come by my childhood torture techniques honestly. Here are two of the things my older sisters did to me when our parents weren't around:

1. Telling me the berries on the bushes in the front yard were poison, then grabbing a handful and stuffing them in my mouth, holding my mouth shut and forcing my jaw up and down to make me chew.

2. Picking me up, holding me over the kitchen sink, turning on the water, turning on the garbage disposal, and then telling me they were going to feed me in, feet first, while I screamed and begged for mercy and tried desperately to squirm out of their arms.

Good times!

Always The Last To Know

My sister Ditzy called me a little while ago. Here's the first part of the conversation:

Ditzy: Hi! Have you heard anything more about (our sister) TIB?

Me: What? What about TIB?

Ditzy: You didn't hear?

Me: Hear what?

Ditzy: Nobody called you? She had a heart attack yesterday!

Me: WHAT????

Sigh. Nobody ever tells me anything. As it turns out, TIB had chest pains (which she had been having for weeks, but told no one, including her husband, because she didn't want to cancel their trip to Atlanta. Um, hello?). They became so severe yesterday (pain in the chest running down the left arm, shortness of breath, dizziness - um, hello?) that she finally called her doctor, who told her to go directly to the hospital. So now they are running tests to determine exactly what is going on and what will need to be done. But as of right now she is resting comfortably, and I'll go see her during visiting hours tonight.

This reminds me of the time TIB and her husband threw a long-planned cookout for the family. When I got there, several family members were talking about "the funeral", "calling hours", etc. When I finally blurted out, "Who died?", somebody responded, "Grandma died! Didn't anybody tell you?!". Um, no.

Sigh.

Possibly the World's Most Pretentious Catalog

Blurbs from my boss's The Territory Ahead catalog:

"The poplin has a crisp canvas-like hand that's nicely broken in and already fade-savvy by a good old-fashioned garment wash". A nicely broken-in hand? Ouch!

"deep piped besom pockets"

"... then garnished the placket, neckline and side vents with fine twill backing".

"With a boat neck and godets front and back ..."

"Trapunto topstitching accents the angled patch pockets".

Gah. Pretentious bastards. Or maybe I'm just confused, since I have no idea what the hell they are talking about. Maybe they're really discussing molecular physics, and I'm just out of the loop, vocabulary-wise.

Nope. Pretentious bastards it is.

When It's Good, It's Very, Very Good

The view from the cottage (I zoomed in for that second one):

What the Hell Do You Say to That?

My Mom has Alzheimer's. My sister Alabama has her up at the lake for the summer, so I went up this past weekend to visit. Mom's most popular phrases:

1. I can't find my purse.
2. I can't find my wallet.
3. I lost my glasses.
4. Why are you mad at me?

Now, 1 through 3 I can handle. We all know that if you just tell her you will help her look when you have a chance, and then just kind of blow it off, she will go retrieve her purse/wallet/glasses from wherever she hid them, because the game is no fun if only one person is playing.

But what do I say to number 4? If I say, "Oh, Mom, of course I'm not mad at you", she says, "Oh yes you are. I can tell". If I say, "Oh, Mom, why would you think that?", she says, "Just by the way you're acting". If I say, "What way? What specifically am I doing that makes you think I'm mad at you", she says, "Oh, it's nothing specific. I can just tell." If I say, "Tell, how?", she says, "I just can."

And then she will sulk, and pout, and ask me over and over, "Why are you mad at me?". Of course, by that point, I pretty much AM mad at her. So what the hell do you say to that? I know that it is senseless to try to reason with an Alzheimer's patient, but I really need some kind of reply that will get her off that whole line of thought. I really need to know, because it is driving me crazy, and preventing me from enjoying my time with her, and I'm supposed to go up there very shortly to stay for a week, and at this point I'm starting to re-think the whole thing.

Any help would be appreciated. Please!