I had my 6 month check-up at the dentist earlier this week. After being examined, having my teeth scraped by a sharp instrument (don't they always preach to us not to stick sharp objects in our mouth?), polished, and flourided until the next check-up, I stopped at the receptionist desk on my way out.
I asked what I owed for the day and the receptionist told me: "well, since your insurance doesn't cover the flouride treatment, you can go on and pay for that. That'll be $25.00 please."
So I asked, "they don't cover flouride? Why?"
She just shook her head. "Only in children do they cover it."
Now is that not the strangest thing you've ever heard?
So today, I got my insurance claim that was submitted, sent to me via email. I went on-line to view it and saw that indeed, they did not cover the flouride treatment. Again I thought, "How strange!"
As I scrolled through the email, it then proceeds to tell me how to prevent tooth decay, blah, blah, blah.
Not that I really needed to know how, but I was curious as to what the insurance company would say. Wouldn't you know it!, they recommend brushing with a flouride toothpaste twice a day.
Now, if they're going to recommend using a flouride toothpaste, then why not go on and cover the flouride treatment at the dentist?
I just don't understand.
Thursday, April 27, 2006
New Attitude
My "attitude child", a.k.a. Bootsy, is finally, after almost two years in our home, starting to warm up to a few of the neighbors. Don't get me wrong, she still won't allow these people to pet her, but she has finally started allowing them close enough to feed her a treat, which she promptly snatches from their hand, hopefully leaving all fingers in tact, then backs away. But at least her curiousity and desire for a snack is helping her overcome her fear of 95% of all people she has encountered thus far in life. She even let the 9 year old up the street feed her, and for Bootsy, that's a major accomplishment!!
Either she's mellowing in aging years, or mayhaps obedience school had more of an effect on her than I ever dreamed of. Either way, I'll take it!!
A little consitency please
Often in the mornings, on my way to work, I stop at the D.Q. in LaGrange and get some breakfast. I order the same thing, every time. I order it the same exact way, every time. I say the same exact words, every time.
So why is it that I can't ever get my "2 buttered biscuits" served to me the same exact way in any given week?
Sometimes I get them already sliced and buttered with jelly and extra butter packs in the bag.
Sometimes I get them already sliced, not buttered, and may or may not have jelly &/or butter packs.
Sometimes I get them, unsliced, with the little extra packs.
Sometimes I get them, unsliced, nothing else in the bag.
Sometimes I get them, buttered on top, may or may not have extras in bag.
You get the idea?
I don't want the jellies. I can take or leave the extra butter packs, although, if they aren't going to pre-butter the biscuits, then I'd like to have them.
But why, if I order them the same exact way each time, can I not get them served to me the same way?
A little consistency, please!
So why is it that I can't ever get my "2 buttered biscuits" served to me the same exact way in any given week?
Sometimes I get them already sliced and buttered with jelly and extra butter packs in the bag.
Sometimes I get them already sliced, not buttered, and may or may not have jelly &/or butter packs.
Sometimes I get them, unsliced, with the little extra packs.
Sometimes I get them, unsliced, nothing else in the bag.
Sometimes I get them, buttered on top, may or may not have extras in bag.
You get the idea?
I don't want the jellies. I can take or leave the extra butter packs, although, if they aren't going to pre-butter the biscuits, then I'd like to have them.
But why, if I order them the same exact way each time, can I not get them served to me the same way?
A little consistency, please!
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
New clothes
A woman called the office yesterday, wanting to know what the interior color was of the casket her mother had picked out (mom's not dead yet, just knocking on death's door).
She needed to know the color, as she was going to go purchase a new outfit for mom to wear after she had died.
Of course I mentally rolled my eyes, as I do every time I see these families come in with entirely new dresses/suits, jewelry, etc.
If people only knew what was going to happen to those new clothes, they'd probably save themselves the money.
Maybe I'm just naive, but before I started working here, I assumed that the deceased were actually "dressed" in the clothes that were chosen for them. Needless to say, I was somewhat shocked when I found out otherwise. Granted, I understand the reason for why it's done, but it doesn't make it any less horrifying.
These expensive new outfits end up being rags, in a manner of speaking. In order to "dress" the deceased, the clothing is cut up the back, then "wrapped" around the body. The clothes don't even have to be the correct size, a little too large, a little too small, it doesn't matter, we'll make it fit.
And the jewelry that people rush out and buy to put on mom for her funeral, geesh! Honestly, if mom didn't have any, or didn't wear any nice jewelry when she was living, then why bother putting it on her after she's dead?
The whole thing just makes me want to be cremated all the more.
She needed to know the color, as she was going to go purchase a new outfit for mom to wear after she had died.
Of course I mentally rolled my eyes, as I do every time I see these families come in with entirely new dresses/suits, jewelry, etc.
If people only knew what was going to happen to those new clothes, they'd probably save themselves the money.
Maybe I'm just naive, but before I started working here, I assumed that the deceased were actually "dressed" in the clothes that were chosen for them. Needless to say, I was somewhat shocked when I found out otherwise. Granted, I understand the reason for why it's done, but it doesn't make it any less horrifying.
These expensive new outfits end up being rags, in a manner of speaking. In order to "dress" the deceased, the clothing is cut up the back, then "wrapped" around the body. The clothes don't even have to be the correct size, a little too large, a little too small, it doesn't matter, we'll make it fit.
And the jewelry that people rush out and buy to put on mom for her funeral, geesh! Honestly, if mom didn't have any, or didn't wear any nice jewelry when she was living, then why bother putting it on her after she's dead?
The whole thing just makes me want to be cremated all the more.
Gas
With the ever increasing price of a gallon of gasoline, everyone is looking for alternate modes of transportation or any other cost saving measures. My 30 mile round trip is too far to consider riding a bike. Although, I can recall a time in my youth when I rode 30 miles in one afternoon. Now, I'd be lucky to ride 1 mile with keeling over from exhaustion!
I've been trying to keep from letting my tank get below 1/2, just so it won't mentally hurt so much to top off the tank. The station by our house was still at $2.95 when I went past yesterday, and as I was just below 1/2 tank, I decided to fill up before the price surpassed $3/gal. I noticed this morning that the price had dropped overnight to $2.91/gal... figures! That's the story of my life. The price always seems to drop right after I fill the tank.
I suppose that's why I don't gamble. I'd be sure to lose everytime.
Back to looking for alternative methods...
Wouldn't it be great if we could hook a hose up to our husbands' rears and then somehow convert their flatulence to a fuel that could power our autos? With my husband's flatulence, I'd never have to purchase gasoline again.
Sorry, I have to pick on the husbands, because women just don't admit to having that bodily function.
I've been trying to keep from letting my tank get below 1/2, just so it won't mentally hurt so much to top off the tank. The station by our house was still at $2.95 when I went past yesterday, and as I was just below 1/2 tank, I decided to fill up before the price surpassed $3/gal. I noticed this morning that the price had dropped overnight to $2.91/gal... figures! That's the story of my life. The price always seems to drop right after I fill the tank.
I suppose that's why I don't gamble. I'd be sure to lose everytime.
Back to looking for alternative methods...
Wouldn't it be great if we could hook a hose up to our husbands' rears and then somehow convert their flatulence to a fuel that could power our autos? With my husband's flatulence, I'd never have to purchase gasoline again.
Sorry, I have to pick on the husbands, because women just don't admit to having that bodily function.
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
Terrible 2's
My little girl is growing up. Olivia turned 1 year old a month ago (yesterday), and she has suddenly developed some new habits... some good, some not so good.
Since returning from our vacation (which, by the way, she didn't have that first accident while we were gone), she's only had 2 accidents: 1) I can't fuss at her because she was sick with diahrrea, & 2) John & I were both late getting home from work one day, so she wasn't able to hold it as long. But aside from those 2 times, we've arrived home to a clean crate everyday this month. Way to go Olivia!!!
That was her new, good habit.
And now for the bad...
Now that she's gotten her first year of life behind her and is working on her second year, I guess she's entering the "terrible 2's", and she's becoming quite destructive.
In the past week she has managed to chew up the following items: 2 votive candles, 1 pair of socks, 1 pair of sunglasses, 1 fanny-pak, 1 bag of dog treats, and several slobber rags.
I walked into the kitchen last night and she was standing at the cabinet, chin resting on the counter top, just staring wistfully at a bag of Cheetos. I'm sure had I not walked in at that time, she would've found a way to get the object of her desire.
I hope she grows up a little faster and gets past this "terrible 2" stage of life.
Monday, April 24, 2006
Faboo weekend!
Finally, a weekend with fabulous weather that one could enjoy.
It seemed to be the weekend for spring-planting around our neighborhood, as everywhere I looked, people were planting, mulching, weeding, etc. Of course, we did most of ours back before our vacation.
We finally got to use the outdoor fireplace, not once, but TWO times this weekend. I just LOVE! my outdoor fireplace. We sat around the fire saturday evening and saw a large part of the air-show from our lawn. Instead of celebrating Thunder over Louisville (I try to stay as far away from that madness as possible), we celebrated Thunder over Brownhurst.
Took some of the kids to the vet for their shots, and discovered the mystery to Eliott & Olivia's on-going diarrhea. Now all the dogs are on medication to try and rid them of the problem.
Our new neighbors up the street moved in... poor kids!, the moving company finished unloading their furniture and went to pull out of the driveway, but cut the truck too sharp and nearly ripped the rear hatch door off "JJ"s 4-runner. Ouch! Welcome to the neighborhood.
Sunday, John & neighbor "M" went to play golf. They tried to entice their new playmate "JJ" to go, but he apparently felt guilty leaving his wife & in-laws to do the unpacking. So while they chased little white balls around Sleepy Hollow G.C., I snoozed in the hammock and got a bit sunburned.
Back to work now and counting down the days until the next weekend gets here.
It seemed to be the weekend for spring-planting around our neighborhood, as everywhere I looked, people were planting, mulching, weeding, etc. Of course, we did most of ours back before our vacation.
We finally got to use the outdoor fireplace, not once, but TWO times this weekend. I just LOVE! my outdoor fireplace. We sat around the fire saturday evening and saw a large part of the air-show from our lawn. Instead of celebrating Thunder over Louisville (I try to stay as far away from that madness as possible), we celebrated Thunder over Brownhurst.
Took some of the kids to the vet for their shots, and discovered the mystery to Eliott & Olivia's on-going diarrhea. Now all the dogs are on medication to try and rid them of the problem.
Our new neighbors up the street moved in... poor kids!, the moving company finished unloading their furniture and went to pull out of the driveway, but cut the truck too sharp and nearly ripped the rear hatch door off "JJ"s 4-runner. Ouch! Welcome to the neighborhood.
Sunday, John & neighbor "M" went to play golf. They tried to entice their new playmate "JJ" to go, but he apparently felt guilty leaving his wife & in-laws to do the unpacking. So while they chased little white balls around Sleepy Hollow G.C., I snoozed in the hammock and got a bit sunburned.
Back to work now and counting down the days until the next weekend gets here.
Friday, April 21, 2006
Brother/sister love
This is my first attempt at multi-picture posting, so basically, this blog is just a test. Eliott & Olivia were enjoying the sunshine by the backdoor.
Sunday, February 19, 2006
Sunday, February 19, 2006
9 lives
There is a reason cats have 9 lives... if they didn't, most of them would most certainly die within the first year of their life.
I've got 3 cats... had 4, but Billbo disappearred, shortly before we moved into our current home. Figures!, I'd much rather still have him than Frodo. Frodo is a pisser. Figuratively & literally. Oh, just in case you're wondering, No!, I'm not a fan of The Hobbit. Those cats came to us already named.
Frodo, who I'm convinced was issued more than 9 lives at birth, has somehow managed to live, nearly unscathed, and will be 14 years old this fall. He's our fat cat. As I said, he's a pisser. We're 99% sure he's the one that keeps peeing in places other than his litter box. It's because of him we have to keep a blue, plastic tarp on our bed to protect the mattress. My husband has been ready to kill that cat on more than 1 occasion, but he wants to actually catch him in the act, lest he kill the wrong cat.
Pudge, named for the mother of a guy I used to date, is our lone female. She's a sweet cat. She's what is known as a blotched-tabby. A pretty mix of black and brown swirls. Pudge is a bit neurotic at times I think. She too will be 14 this year, but probably sometime this summer. She adopted us while we were on vacation at Lake of the Ozarks, Missouri. Just a tiny little thing, she was hanging out around the condo we were staying at. I opened the door one evening and she ran in and never left, then returned to Kentucky with us. I'm not sure I've ever seen her drink from her water dish, as a normal cat would. She always dabs one of her front paws into the water, then licks the droplets off of her toes, then repeats this until she's had her fill of water. As a result of using her toes the way we'd use a straw, there is no hair on the tips of her toes as she's licked it off over the years.
Then lastly there is B.J. B.J. is my old man-cat. He turned 16 this spring, and is still going strong. I fear he'll outlive us. He's a small cat, very sleek and somewhat wild, only sociable on his terms, which is usually when I'm either on the toilet and want some privacy, or when I'm trying to sit and relax and work on my cross-stitching. He was a few months old when we got him, one of several barn kittens/cats on my uncle B's farm. Uncle B had died, as had his son & wife earlier in the year (1990), and we figured all the cats/dogs would end up in the pound. J and I had talked about getting a cat, so after the funeral, we stopped by the farm and picked one out. B.J., named for uncle B and my husband J, is also a blotched tabby, with a little white bib on his chest. This cat likes to live on the edge.
He's very anal about being fed at the same time, day in and day out. And heaven forbid if you should dare try to sleep in without first getting up to feed him. I've even tried feeding him early, like when I get up with John, then going back to bed to sleep in. That doesn't work. B.J. feels he should be fed again, at 6am, because Damnit!, that's his feeding time.
I can't count the number of times he's been running laps around the headboard in an attempt to get me out of bed, and I've grabbed him and launched him into space, but he just keeps coming back for more. After a while, it's just easier to get up and feed him. I fear the day will come when I accidentally grab him in my sleep and break his little neck for not letting me sleep. But for now, his 9 lives are holding out.
I've got 3 cats... had 4, but Billbo disappearred, shortly before we moved into our current home. Figures!, I'd much rather still have him than Frodo. Frodo is a pisser. Figuratively & literally. Oh, just in case you're wondering, No!, I'm not a fan of The Hobbit. Those cats came to us already named.
Frodo, who I'm convinced was issued more than 9 lives at birth, has somehow managed to live, nearly unscathed, and will be 14 years old this fall. He's our fat cat. As I said, he's a pisser. We're 99% sure he's the one that keeps peeing in places other than his litter box. It's because of him we have to keep a blue, plastic tarp on our bed to protect the mattress. My husband has been ready to kill that cat on more than 1 occasion, but he wants to actually catch him in the act, lest he kill the wrong cat.
Pudge, named for the mother of a guy I used to date, is our lone female. She's a sweet cat. She's what is known as a blotched-tabby. A pretty mix of black and brown swirls. Pudge is a bit neurotic at times I think. She too will be 14 this year, but probably sometime this summer. She adopted us while we were on vacation at Lake of the Ozarks, Missouri. Just a tiny little thing, she was hanging out around the condo we were staying at. I opened the door one evening and she ran in and never left, then returned to Kentucky with us. I'm not sure I've ever seen her drink from her water dish, as a normal cat would. She always dabs one of her front paws into the water, then licks the droplets off of her toes, then repeats this until she's had her fill of water. As a result of using her toes the way we'd use a straw, there is no hair on the tips of her toes as she's licked it off over the years.
Then lastly there is B.J. B.J. is my old man-cat. He turned 16 this spring, and is still going strong. I fear he'll outlive us. He's a small cat, very sleek and somewhat wild, only sociable on his terms, which is usually when I'm either on the toilet and want some privacy, or when I'm trying to sit and relax and work on my cross-stitching. He was a few months old when we got him, one of several barn kittens/cats on my uncle B's farm. Uncle B had died, as had his son & wife earlier in the year (1990), and we figured all the cats/dogs would end up in the pound. J and I had talked about getting a cat, so after the funeral, we stopped by the farm and picked one out. B.J., named for uncle B and my husband J, is also a blotched tabby, with a little white bib on his chest. This cat likes to live on the edge.
He's very anal about being fed at the same time, day in and day out. And heaven forbid if you should dare try to sleep in without first getting up to feed him. I've even tried feeding him early, like when I get up with John, then going back to bed to sleep in. That doesn't work. B.J. feels he should be fed again, at 6am, because Damnit!, that's his feeding time.
I can't count the number of times he's been running laps around the headboard in an attempt to get me out of bed, and I've grabbed him and launched him into space, but he just keeps coming back for more. After a while, it's just easier to get up and feed him. I fear the day will come when I accidentally grab him in my sleep and break his little neck for not letting me sleep. But for now, his 9 lives are holding out.
In a bit of a pickle
Stupid Tupperware! I thought this stuff was supposed to seal tightly, keeping food fresh, and more importanly, keeping the food in the container so it didn't spill out?
As I prepared to fix the husband's lunch at 3:45 this morning, I stood in front of the fridge removing the necessary items... cheese, chicken salad, pickles, fruit cup, etc. ... I felt the large container of pickles slipping from my hand. Before I could adjust my grip on it, it crashed to the ground, hitting the doorframe to the hallway on it's way to the floor. The lid came off and sliced dill pickles and juice went EVERYWHERE!
What a mess!!
Stupid Tupperware!!
My house hallway (where most of the mess spilled), now reeks of dill pickles.
The only help I got in cleaning up this mess was from Olivia, who happens to like dill pickles.
Thank you Olivia.
Stupid Tupperware!
As I prepared to fix the husband's lunch at 3:45 this morning, I stood in front of the fridge removing the necessary items... cheese, chicken salad, pickles, fruit cup, etc. ... I felt the large container of pickles slipping from my hand. Before I could adjust my grip on it, it crashed to the ground, hitting the doorframe to the hallway on it's way to the floor. The lid came off and sliced dill pickles and juice went EVERYWHERE!
What a mess!!
Stupid Tupperware!!
My house hallway (where most of the mess spilled), now reeks of dill pickles.
The only help I got in cleaning up this mess was from Olivia, who happens to like dill pickles.
Thank you Olivia.
Stupid Tupperware!
We Are the Worms...
I felt the need to blog about worms because this morning, in the middle of my kitchen floor, I found an earth worm. Where did that come from?? I've no doors in the kitchen leading to the outside world? This little fella must've traveled far to get where he did. I was so awed by his effort, that I didn't have the heart to trash him or send him down the garbage disposal, so I carried him to the backdoor and tossed him out into the yard, so that he might live to see another day.
A short time later I went out on the deck and noticed a blob about 4 feet up off the ground, sticking out between the vinyl siding and the doorframe. Curious I leaned in for a closer look. I had to get the camera and take a picture, I couldn't believe it! It was yet another earthworm, this one with his ass... or maybe it was his head (who can tell?), poking out between the crack. I pushed in on the siding a bit, and he started wiggling like crazy, as the pressure that was on him was suddenly released. He fell down inside the siding. I only hope he makes it to freedom instead of shriveling up like a piece of beef-jerky within the walls of my house.
I think I may have done this once before... in my previous blogging life. If so, my apologies, but here it is again... my salute to the earthworms...
"We Are The Worms" (sung to the tune of "We Are The World")
There comes a time
When the rain begins to fall
And the worms come out of the gound.
There are people walking
Oh, it's time to watch your step
Or your feet will make a squishy sound.
We are the worms
Out on the sidewalk.
We are the ones who make a squishy mess
So watch where you walk.
It's a chance we're taking
Leaving our homes underground
Though it's true we'll get a better tan,
Just you and me.
When we're laying 'round
Keep your eye out on the street.
If you don't look out,
You'll have worms under your feet.
We realize
Oh, that the sun is gonna come
And we'll shrivel up like beef jerky from the heat.
We are the worms
Out on the pavement.
And when we hear a squish, we look around
To see where cousin Dave went.
It's a stance we're taking
'Cause worms are people too
And we sure don't want a better look
At your big shoe.
We are the worms
Out on the sidewalk.
We are the ones who make a squishy mess
So watch where you walk.
It's a chance we're taking
Leaving our homes underground
Though it's true we'll get a better tan,
Just you and me.
Oh, come on now, let me hear you.
We are the worms
Out on the pavement.
And when we hear a squish, we look around
To see where cousin Dave went.
It's a stance we're taking
'Cause worms are people too
And we sure don't want a better look
At your big shoe.
Thursday, April 20, 2006
the III ?
We recently had a funeral for a lady, and listed among her survivors was a sister. (Changing the name here)... the sister's name was: Jane Smith III
The 3rd?
Since when do women have those kinds of titles tacked on to the end of their names?
I mean, I could understand if she had listed her as: Mrs. James Smith III,
but Jane Smith III? I just don't get it!!
Does that mean that her mother-in-law was also a Jane Smith, and that her mother-in-law before her was a Jane Smith as well?
If so, would that make them Jane Smith Sr. & Jr.? Or Jane Smith the 1st and 2nd?
Somebody please help me out with this one!
The 3rd?
Since when do women have those kinds of titles tacked on to the end of their names?
I mean, I could understand if she had listed her as: Mrs. James Smith III,
but Jane Smith III? I just don't get it!!
Does that mean that her mother-in-law was also a Jane Smith, and that her mother-in-law before her was a Jane Smith as well?
If so, would that make them Jane Smith Sr. & Jr.? Or Jane Smith the 1st and 2nd?
Somebody please help me out with this one!
2 birds, 1 stone...
This morning, apparently Olivia decided to try and kill two birds with one stone... figuratively speaking.
She's had an on-going battle with diarrhea over the past few days, and I'm frequently telling her that she has some serious dog-breath.
After emerging from the shower this morning, my micro-short hair slicked back on the sides and spiked on the top, I headed for the bedroom to finish getting ready for work. As I walked down the hall, I saw Olivia laying on the cushions in the floor, gnawing on something. I didn't have my contacts in, so I couldn't immediately identify the object. I hoped it was a bone or chew-toy.
It wasn't.
Curiousity got the better of me and I made a detour past the bedroom door, and walked over to Olivia. I bent over to see what she had and she dropped the object and looked up at me with the most innocent expression she could muster. She had been chewing on a blueberry scented, votive candle, still in the glass holder.
She had done quite a number on the candle, and I don't know how on earth she managed to keep from breaking the glass and cutting herself. I took the candle away from her and sat it on the kitchen counter, the whole time shaking my no-no finger at her. I went to the bedroom and got some pants from the closet that needed to be ironed. Back into the hallway to get the ironing board, I noticed she was again chewing on something.
This time, she didn't drop the object, but made me chase her through the house and wrestle the object from her. This time is was a blackcherry votive candle.
I can only assume that she was attempting to plug-up her butt so she doesn't have any more diarrhea, and attempting to freshen her breath at the same time.
All candles are now up, hopefully out of her reach.
It will be interesting when she does have her next B.M., to see all the pretty colors mixed in with it.
She's had an on-going battle with diarrhea over the past few days, and I'm frequently telling her that she has some serious dog-breath.
After emerging from the shower this morning, my micro-short hair slicked back on the sides and spiked on the top, I headed for the bedroom to finish getting ready for work. As I walked down the hall, I saw Olivia laying on the cushions in the floor, gnawing on something. I didn't have my contacts in, so I couldn't immediately identify the object. I hoped it was a bone or chew-toy.
It wasn't.
Curiousity got the better of me and I made a detour past the bedroom door, and walked over to Olivia. I bent over to see what she had and she dropped the object and looked up at me with the most innocent expression she could muster. She had been chewing on a blueberry scented, votive candle, still in the glass holder.
She had done quite a number on the candle, and I don't know how on earth she managed to keep from breaking the glass and cutting herself. I took the candle away from her and sat it on the kitchen counter, the whole time shaking my no-no finger at her. I went to the bedroom and got some pants from the closet that needed to be ironed. Back into the hallway to get the ironing board, I noticed she was again chewing on something.
This time, she didn't drop the object, but made me chase her through the house and wrestle the object from her. This time is was a blackcherry votive candle.
I can only assume that she was attempting to plug-up her butt so she doesn't have any more diarrhea, and attempting to freshen her breath at the same time.
All candles are now up, hopefully out of her reach.
It will be interesting when she does have her next B.M., to see all the pretty colors mixed in with it.
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Name that tune.
I was sitting here attempting to put a contract into the computer this morning, I say attempting, I didn't get very far because I couldn't read the "sales person's" hand-writing.
Anyway, while I was entering the info, I caught myself humming a little tune. Over and over, and when I finally realized what I was doing, I asked myself, "What are you humming?"
So of course I had to stop what I was inputting, sit back in my chair and hum it a little louder and pay attention to it.
It took a few moments then I finally was able to name that tune.
It was none other than the theme song to that old show (which most of my readers are probably too young to remember)... My Three Sons.
Where did that come from?????
I've not seen that show in probably 25 years. Why did that just randomly pop into my head?
Is this the beginning of alzheimers for me? I'm going to start living in the past?
Anyway, while I was entering the info, I caught myself humming a little tune. Over and over, and when I finally realized what I was doing, I asked myself, "What are you humming?"
So of course I had to stop what I was inputting, sit back in my chair and hum it a little louder and pay attention to it.
It took a few moments then I finally was able to name that tune.
It was none other than the theme song to that old show (which most of my readers are probably too young to remember)... My Three Sons.
Where did that come from?????
I've not seen that show in probably 25 years. Why did that just randomly pop into my head?
Is this the beginning of alzheimers for me? I'm going to start living in the past?
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
Who's your "twin"?
How many times have you been out somewhere and someone either tells you that "you look just like so&so", or else they come up and start talking to you, because they've mistaken you for someone?
I can't count the number of times, both when I lived in Indiana and Kentucky, people would come up to me in the store and say, "Hi Robin".
I don't know who Robin is, but obviously, she looks just like me.
Anyway, I bring all this up because... I just finished watching a movie "Rustler's Rhapsody". It's a spoof of an old western. Sela Ward plays the part of the bad-guy's daughter. As I watched her (mind you, this movie came out 20+ years ago), I couldn't help but think how much she looked, and even sounded like, actress Sandra Bullock. They could be sisters!
I was watching a really horrible movie the other day (I don't recommend it) entitled "Eye See You", which starred Sylvester Stallone. Now, you'll probably call me crazy on this one, but I kid you not, the man bears a striking resemblance to former President Bill Clinton. My co-worker even noticed it. Certainly their noses are different, but the rest of their faces are very strikingly similar. Seriously!!
So, who is your twin?
I can't count the number of times, both when I lived in Indiana and Kentucky, people would come up to me in the store and say, "Hi Robin".
I don't know who Robin is, but obviously, she looks just like me.
Anyway, I bring all this up because... I just finished watching a movie "Rustler's Rhapsody". It's a spoof of an old western. Sela Ward plays the part of the bad-guy's daughter. As I watched her (mind you, this movie came out 20+ years ago), I couldn't help but think how much she looked, and even sounded like, actress Sandra Bullock. They could be sisters!
I was watching a really horrible movie the other day (I don't recommend it) entitled "Eye See You", which starred Sylvester Stallone. Now, you'll probably call me crazy on this one, but I kid you not, the man bears a striking resemblance to former President Bill Clinton. My co-worker even noticed it. Certainly their noses are different, but the rest of their faces are very strikingly similar. Seriously!!
So, who is your twin?
graduation
Oh, I was just reminded a short while ago... this thursday is, once again, graduation night for Olivia. **sniff**
Yep, it's the last obedience class we'll be taking. I've been having so much fun going these past 10 months, I'm going to miss it!
The instructor told us last week, that we'll be holding class outdoors in the yard (weather permitting), and that instead of the typical lessons, we'll be playing games with the dogs. She'll have the doggy-wading pool filled up, so bring the towels to dry the dogs. Oohh, I do hope Olivia is over her sickness by then, as I really want to participate that night.
Last summer, I couldn't keep her out of the wading pool. I just hope she still has the same fondness for it this year.
Must remember to have John bring the camera and take pictures (just hope they turn out).
Think I'll also charge-up the f-i-l's video camera... we've still got it from our trip to Oklahoma last April. Oops!!
Yep, it's the last obedience class we'll be taking. I've been having so much fun going these past 10 months, I'm going to miss it!
The instructor told us last week, that we'll be holding class outdoors in the yard (weather permitting), and that instead of the typical lessons, we'll be playing games with the dogs. She'll have the doggy-wading pool filled up, so bring the towels to dry the dogs. Oohh, I do hope Olivia is over her sickness by then, as I really want to participate that night.
Last summer, I couldn't keep her out of the wading pool. I just hope she still has the same fondness for it this year.
Must remember to have John bring the camera and take pictures (just hope they turn out).
Think I'll also charge-up the f-i-l's video camera... we've still got it from our trip to Oklahoma last April. Oops!!
Public restrooms
Every time I go into a public restroom, I can't help but stand back and think to myself: this place was designed by a man... or woman, depending on how the restroom is put together. More specifically, how the toilet stall is designed.
It's become apparent to me over the years, that 99% of all public restrooms must be designed by men, who have no clue on how a restroom should be designed.
I'm tired of going into these multi-stalled, public restrooms that have stalls that are way, way too narrow for the average person, much less for a large person. You have to back into the stall instead of walking in, because there's no room to turn around once you're in there, and let's face it, we women aren't equipped to pee standing up.
And how about the stalls that are so small, that you have to either straddle the toilet, or stand practically behind it just to shut the door? Who came up with that brilliant space-saver design? A man, I'm sure. And heaven forbid if you're wearing a long skirt that you have to hike up while straddling the toilet, just so you can close the door. If you're not careful, the hem of the skirt ends up dangling in the toilet or wiping the seat... EEEWWW!!!
One of my favorites is the giant toilet paper dispensers. Some nimrod mounts them to the wall, right next to the toilet, thereby causing the dispenser to hang out over the toilet, thereby not leaving us enough room to sit on said toilet. Instead, we have to sit sideways (assuming there's enough leg room on the other side of the toilet), or else, face forward, lean to the side away from the dispenser, then stretch back across to reach the "tail" of the toilet paper which is no doubt hidden way up inside the dispenser.
Who invented these torture chambers?
A man, I'm sure. It has to be. I feel they do this to us on purpose, in order to get back at us for years of complaining about them leaving the seats up at home.
Now if a woman were designing them, all the stall doors would open out, away from the toilet. The stalls would have at least two feet of clearance space on either side of the toilet and the toiletpaper dispensers woulb be mounted to the back of the door, right in front of you.
Basically, all stalls would be handi-cap accessible, because as Larry the Cable Guy says, the handi-cap stalls are the Cadillacs of the pooping stools. There is room to stretch your legs, and you've got those bars mounted to the wall to help you when you need to strain. But irregardless of that, if all stalls were handi-cap accessible, then the handi-cap would never have to wait for one to become available.
It's a win-win situation.
It's become apparent to me over the years, that 99% of all public restrooms must be designed by men, who have no clue on how a restroom should be designed.
I'm tired of going into these multi-stalled, public restrooms that have stalls that are way, way too narrow for the average person, much less for a large person. You have to back into the stall instead of walking in, because there's no room to turn around once you're in there, and let's face it, we women aren't equipped to pee standing up.
And how about the stalls that are so small, that you have to either straddle the toilet, or stand practically behind it just to shut the door? Who came up with that brilliant space-saver design? A man, I'm sure. And heaven forbid if you're wearing a long skirt that you have to hike up while straddling the toilet, just so you can close the door. If you're not careful, the hem of the skirt ends up dangling in the toilet or wiping the seat... EEEWWW!!!
One of my favorites is the giant toilet paper dispensers. Some nimrod mounts them to the wall, right next to the toilet, thereby causing the dispenser to hang out over the toilet, thereby not leaving us enough room to sit on said toilet. Instead, we have to sit sideways (assuming there's enough leg room on the other side of the toilet), or else, face forward, lean to the side away from the dispenser, then stretch back across to reach the "tail" of the toilet paper which is no doubt hidden way up inside the dispenser.
Who invented these torture chambers?
A man, I'm sure. It has to be. I feel they do this to us on purpose, in order to get back at us for years of complaining about them leaving the seats up at home.
Now if a woman were designing them, all the stall doors would open out, away from the toilet. The stalls would have at least two feet of clearance space on either side of the toilet and the toiletpaper dispensers woulb be mounted to the back of the door, right in front of you.
Basically, all stalls would be handi-cap accessible, because as Larry the Cable Guy says, the handi-cap stalls are the Cadillacs of the pooping stools. There is room to stretch your legs, and you've got those bars mounted to the wall to help you when you need to strain. But irregardless of that, if all stalls were handi-cap accessible, then the handi-cap would never have to wait for one to become available.
It's a win-win situation.
Spring Fever
As a child (teen) and my early adult years, I used to not like the spring season so much. I dreaded the onset of warm weather.
"Why?" you ask.
Allergies. What else?
I had horrible allergies. The blooming flowers and trees, the freshly mowed lawns, then mold spores left because of spring rains, then the falling, decaying leaves in autumn. I was literally miserable from March thru October.
Since I've been getting my allergy shots for the past 9 years, I've now developed quite a fondness for Spring, and it's easily become one of my favorite times of year.
I get a thrill watching the different flowers bloom in my flowerbeds this time of year... they hyacinths and daffodils just finished blooming, now it's the tulips. My azaleas are just starting to show a few flowers, and should be in full bloom by next week. And, I see that the iris' are just days away from blooming also.
All the colors. And the constantly changing scenery.
I love it!
I did however see one sign of spring in my kitchen this morning that I don't love. In fact, I hate it! It made me groan inwardly, as I know the problem will only get worse before it gets better... it's my on-going battle with ants.
Every spring I go through this. Those tiny little buggers invade my home and give me the willies. Blech! It's almost enough to make a body start disliking warm weather again.
Almost.
"Why?" you ask.
Allergies. What else?
I had horrible allergies. The blooming flowers and trees, the freshly mowed lawns, then mold spores left because of spring rains, then the falling, decaying leaves in autumn. I was literally miserable from March thru October.
Since I've been getting my allergy shots for the past 9 years, I've now developed quite a fondness for Spring, and it's easily become one of my favorite times of year.
I get a thrill watching the different flowers bloom in my flowerbeds this time of year... they hyacinths and daffodils just finished blooming, now it's the tulips. My azaleas are just starting to show a few flowers, and should be in full bloom by next week. And, I see that the iris' are just days away from blooming also.
All the colors. And the constantly changing scenery.
I love it!
I did however see one sign of spring in my kitchen this morning that I don't love. In fact, I hate it! It made me groan inwardly, as I know the problem will only get worse before it gets better... it's my on-going battle with ants.
Every spring I go through this. Those tiny little buggers invade my home and give me the willies. Blech! It's almost enough to make a body start disliking warm weather again.
Almost.
Monday, April 17, 2006
Parental control
I conducted a little experiment of sorts friday evening. It was impromptu, totally unplanned. I should've nipped the little "darling's" behavior in the bud, but since I wasn't his parent (thank God for small favors!!), and his parent was standing right there, I decided to stand back and see just how long it was going to take his mother to finally do something to control the little monster.
Well, I can't give you an actual amount of time, but I can tell you, it finally took a glaring "if looks could kill" stare from me before she finally acted.
Here's my story...
I had to go to the Sam's Club to pick some things up for the office. John went with me and grabbed another buggy to get a few items for home. As is the norm when going anyplace with John, he ran into somebody he knew. He hadn't seen this woman any many years, and since their last encounter, she'd gotten married, and now had a son (I'll call "Jeffrey")... I choose the name Jeffrey because I'm reminded of a skit Bill Cosby did, where he related a story about a terrorizing brat on a plane ride named Jeffrey.
"Our" Jeffrey was about 6 or 7 years old.
As we were leaving the store, we again encountered this woman and her child. She was waiting on her husband to bring the car around. John again stopped to talk to the woman, so I of course stopped too. As it was, my cart was stopped right in front of the liquor store area of Sams... by the time our conversation was over, I needed some liquor!
One of the items in John's cart was a very large container of animal crackers. Jeffrey wanted some. I will at least give Jeffrey this much credit, he did at least ask if could have some instead of just helping himself... well, sort of.
Jeffrey pointed to the container and declared, "I want some of those", the whole while looking up at John who of course wasn't about to be the bad guy and refuse the child, lest the child throw a temper tantrum... heaven forbid!!!
So John reached into the buggy and unscrewed the lid, only to discover that there was a heavy cardboard/foil safety seal underneath (and believe me, these things are VERY difficult to remove). John then told Jeffrey he wouldn't be able to open it until he got home. But Jeffrey was not to be denied. He offered his services to remove the offending safety seal.
John said, "No, I'll get it", and tried to remove it. As I've already stated though, this thing is a booger to remove. You actually need some kind of tool, knife, blow torch, whatever!, to remove it. John again told Jeffrey that he couldn't get it open, and again, Jeffrey was not to be denied.
Needless to say, I was standing back, just taking this all in. I was initially only mildly shocked by this kid's declaration of wanting our food, and his offer to help open the package.
But what happened next totally appalled me, irritated me to no end, and made me want to choke the *$#* out of someone, whether it be Jeffrey or his mother. This is where the experiment kicks in.
Jeffrey, as I said, not to be denied, proceeded to climb into our bascart, stepping on our groceries, and bent down and tried to open the safety-seal with his teeth! I was totally speechless!!! Yes, part of me wanted to snatch him out of that cart and shake some sense into him, but I was almost mesmerized by what I was seeing. I finally broke myself out of my reverie and glared, tight-lipped at the mother. She finally seemed to realize the error of not only her son's ways, but her own in letting it go so far, as she finally told Jeffrey to get out of our basket. When he didn't, after a more intense glare from me, she didn't tell him a second time, but went and physically removed him from the buggy.
She apologized, and I'm thinking, "it's a bit late for that!". I then drug John away from there and proceeded to tongue-lash him for not saying "NO" to the kid from the get-go.
Could we get a little parental control here please?
Well, I can't give you an actual amount of time, but I can tell you, it finally took a glaring "if looks could kill" stare from me before she finally acted.
Here's my story...
I had to go to the Sam's Club to pick some things up for the office. John went with me and grabbed another buggy to get a few items for home. As is the norm when going anyplace with John, he ran into somebody he knew. He hadn't seen this woman any many years, and since their last encounter, she'd gotten married, and now had a son (I'll call "Jeffrey")... I choose the name Jeffrey because I'm reminded of a skit Bill Cosby did, where he related a story about a terrorizing brat on a plane ride named Jeffrey.
"Our" Jeffrey was about 6 or 7 years old.
As we were leaving the store, we again encountered this woman and her child. She was waiting on her husband to bring the car around. John again stopped to talk to the woman, so I of course stopped too. As it was, my cart was stopped right in front of the liquor store area of Sams... by the time our conversation was over, I needed some liquor!
One of the items in John's cart was a very large container of animal crackers. Jeffrey wanted some. I will at least give Jeffrey this much credit, he did at least ask if could have some instead of just helping himself... well, sort of.
Jeffrey pointed to the container and declared, "I want some of those", the whole while looking up at John who of course wasn't about to be the bad guy and refuse the child, lest the child throw a temper tantrum... heaven forbid!!!
So John reached into the buggy and unscrewed the lid, only to discover that there was a heavy cardboard/foil safety seal underneath (and believe me, these things are VERY difficult to remove). John then told Jeffrey he wouldn't be able to open it until he got home. But Jeffrey was not to be denied. He offered his services to remove the offending safety seal.
John said, "No, I'll get it", and tried to remove it. As I've already stated though, this thing is a booger to remove. You actually need some kind of tool, knife, blow torch, whatever!, to remove it. John again told Jeffrey that he couldn't get it open, and again, Jeffrey was not to be denied.
Needless to say, I was standing back, just taking this all in. I was initially only mildly shocked by this kid's declaration of wanting our food, and his offer to help open the package.
But what happened next totally appalled me, irritated me to no end, and made me want to choke the *$#* out of someone, whether it be Jeffrey or his mother. This is where the experiment kicks in.
Jeffrey, as I said, not to be denied, proceeded to climb into our bascart, stepping on our groceries, and bent down and tried to open the safety-seal with his teeth! I was totally speechless!!! Yes, part of me wanted to snatch him out of that cart and shake some sense into him, but I was almost mesmerized by what I was seeing. I finally broke myself out of my reverie and glared, tight-lipped at the mother. She finally seemed to realize the error of not only her son's ways, but her own in letting it go so far, as she finally told Jeffrey to get out of our basket. When he didn't, after a more intense glare from me, she didn't tell him a second time, but went and physically removed him from the buggy.
She apologized, and I'm thinking, "it's a bit late for that!". I then drug John away from there and proceeded to tongue-lash him for not saying "NO" to the kid from the get-go.
Could we get a little parental control here please?
Friday, April 14, 2006
What was I thinking?
My husband was recently helping his dad clean out his garage and salvaging a few items we'd left over there from the short time we resided with him. While going through one box, John found my 8th grade year book (1981-82 school year, Yikes! I'm old!!).
I couldn't fathom why the book was in a box in his garage. All my other yearbooks are stacked in our entertainment cabinet... I suppose simply because it's entertaining to go back occasionally and look at the ridiculous hairstyles and such that we sported back then.
Anyway, I started thumbing through the book... some of the "autographs" from dear friends made me smile, others from people I only considered mere acquaintances then and now, I couldn't help but roll my eyes and think, "what were they thinking when they wrote that?"... a few of these people referred to me as a "good friend", and I can't help but wonder, "what is their definition of 'good friend', because these people rarely gave me the time of day back then, and we certainly never hung around together, nor have we in anyway or form kept in touch since then.
Many, many of the signees referred to my heighth because, yes, I was the tallest girl in school, and basically taller than a large portion of the guys, and a lot of the teachers too.
Then as I flipped through the book, some of the things I saw truly saddened me. Way back then, let's face it, I was 14 years old at the time, and maturity isn't a strong point for most 14 year olds... I had gone through and "vandalized" my own year book. I had either blacked out the faces or at least the teeth & eyes of people I didn't like, or had had differences with, or had just plain ol' treated me badly. Granted, most of those people never did me any real harm, but when you're 14, everything is cause for trauma and drama. But the vandalism that bugs me the most were the ones I'd had spats with around the time of receiving the yearbook. I suppose I'd written them off as friends, and had been hurt by the break-up of our friendship. Little did I know then that we would again become friends, whether it was at the start of the next school year, or 15+ years later, by fate.
Kids don't usually see beyond the immediate future. I wish I'd known then, what I know now.... don't we all?!
I'd like to apologize to a dear friend now: Tina, I'm sorry. Yours was one of the faces I'd blacked out. We had had a spat towards the end of that 8th grade year. I certainly don't remember what it was, something silly, I'm sure, although it probably seemed important at the time. It truly devistates me now that I marked up the faces of any of my classmates, irregardless of how close I was to them or them to me.
What was I thinking?
I included that yearbook photo of myself, sporting my "permed-afro" look... again, what was I thinking?, and those giant rimmed glasses! And I can even tell you what shirt that was: a white and yellow-gold 3/4 lenth jersey with "Sasson" imprinted on it. Again, what was I thinking??
Thursday, April 13, 2006
Held prisoner
I was held captive last night, and I fear I may become a prisoner in my own home.
As my husband and neighbor "M" assembled M's hauling trailer in order to transport our stove (see next blog for that story), I let the two big kids out back to run and play, and I took Olivia out for a little stroll on the leash. As I was approaching the intersection in front of our house, a woman pulled up and stopped her car, rolled down her window and commented on what a beautiful dog Olivia was. I thanked her, and prepared to walk on.
But that wasn't to be.
Same strange woman then asked if she could pet Olivia, I agreed, and this ding-bat started to do a U-turn in the middle of the street, turning directly into the path of an on-coming car. A collision was avoided, then the ding-bat pulled up in front of our house and parked. I walked around her car and she reached out to pet Olivia. I figured there'd be a couple of moments of oohing and ahhing over Olivia, then the ding-bat would leave and we'd be allowed to walk on. But that was not to be.
Ding-bat, who I believe finally introduced herself as "Libby", kept on and on and on, telling me her entire life story. Mind you, I've never seen this woman before in my life, nor do I ever want to. And she even kept saying, "I know you don't know me, but...", and I'm thinking, "You're right, so let's leave it that way."
She continued oohing and ahhing over Olivia, petting her and asking the usual questions that Dane owners get. All the while, she had her own small mutt sitting in her lap. This dogs name was Yoda, and was, without a doubt, the ugliest canine-creature I've ever seen in my life. He was part Pug, part Border Terrier, and part something else. Oh!, he was hideous! It was like God had picked out the worst features of those parent dogs and thrown them together to create this mutt. The dog was friendly to me though, if not quite accepting of Olivia hanging her head into Libby's car.
Libby continued droning on, yammering about the bass player in the musical group QUEEN, yadda, yadda, yadda, then finally asked me, "what do you do when you're having a bad day?"
And I'm thinking to myself, 'well, I don't drag a perfect stranger into it with me', but I shrugged my shoulders and said, "love on my dogs..."
Libby: "Well, I've been doing that, but it isn't helping."
Me: another shrug of the shoulders, "Take it out on the husband..."
Libby: "I don't have one of those".... and believe you me, I totally understand why.
Me: yet another shoulder shrug, "Go to Dairy Queen." I was running out of suggestions for this basket case.
Libby: "There isn't one around here though."
Me: "Yes there is. The brand new one that just opened up right out here on Hwy. 22, across from the BP." I'm thinking, 'if you hurry, you can get there before they close.'
I was getting desparate to get away from this woman, and I saw John & M going into our house with the dolly so they could get my stove. I latched onto that as an excuse and said, "Oh, I'd better be going now, I need to go help them load a stove."
But for once, John didn't dally on a project, and before I could get away from Libby, he and M were wheeling the stove out the front door. Darn it!!
I was hoping the husband would ask me to accompany them to his dad's house, where they were taking our stove, but he didn't. Instead he rode off into the sunset with M, and left me standing there listening to Libby.
Libby: "where are they taking that stove?"
Me: "to my f-i-l's, we're trading stoves."
Libby: "I could really use a new washer/dryer"
Me: no comment... what did she want, for me to give her my appliances?
Libby: "how did you come up with the name for Olivia?
Me: "Ever watch Law&Order:SVU?"
Libby: "no, I don't have a tv that works. I can't afford cable, and the tv won't pick up anything without it. That's why I'm out driving around, it's too depressing sitting in the apartment alone." Me: No comment. I'm thinking, 'so now we're both depressed!!'
Libby: "Yeah, I'm probably going to have to move into section-8 housing soon."
Me: No comment... what did she want, for me to offer her a place to live? This woman is yammering about moving into sec.-8 housing, yet she has the money to just cruise around in her car while gasoline costs $2.85/gallon?
Then the teenager from next door came walking past and Libby started in on her, yet I still couldn't escape. Libby started quizzing the girl on what she was going to study in college, and telling her she should be concerned with the environment, blah, blah, blah.
I felt so bad for the girl. I somehow felt responsible that she had gotten drug into this madness. But at least she was finally able to escape with the excuse of homework.
By now, Libby was out of her car with Yoda, who I noticed had dried dog-poop caked to the fur around his butt. Eeewww, and this dog has been sitting in her lap? I wasn't having a good feeling that I'd be able to escape anytime soon.
Now the neighbors from up the street, "R&M" came by walking their dog, so it turned into a meeting of the doglovers, and I had to listen to Libby tell them all her whoes too. Then she invited us all to go to Dairy Queen... not that it was her treat, but to keep her company. Then she wanted to know what we usually ordered when we went there. Oh good grief!, would the questions never end???
R&M recommended moo-lattes, while I suggested just a plain vanilla cone she could share with her dog.
Blessedly, at this point, some other neighbors from the other side of the the 'hood, came strolling by and asked about Olivia. I thought, 'oh please don't let these people get sucked into Libby's world!'
Fortunately, Libby stayed put, talking to R&M, and I was able to step a few feet away to chat with these new neighbors. They were pleasant, and most importantly, they were NORMAL, DELIGHTFUL people to talk to. We chatted a few minutes, they continued their walk. I turned to Libby and R&M and attempted to make my exit from this gathering...
but that was not to be.
Libby: "Do you think I could meet your other dogs sometime?"
Me: I latched onto that "sometime" and said, "Oh, well, I guess if you ever see me out with them, then that would be fine", meaning: it sure as hell isn't going to happen right now!
I then excused myself, feeling shame and guilt over leaving R&M to make their own escape from Libby. I hurried into the house, shut and locked the frontdoor behind me. I ran to the back of the house and called for Bootsy & Eliott, got them inside, shut the backdoor and closed the curtains, fast! I then went around closing all the other blinds. I was in fear that Libby would follow me home.
Drats!, I needed to cross the street to retrieve something from M&J's house. What to do?
I grabbed my house keys and locked the frontdoor behind me... I just didn't trust this woman. As I crossed the street, I kept my head down and walked quickly.
After I made it back into my own home, door once again locked securely behind me, I tip-toed and picked my way through the clutter in our front bedroom. This is no easy feat, even in the light of day, but it was now dark outside and I didn't want to turn the bedroom lights on. I snuck over to the window and carefully peeked through the blinds.
I had mental images of Libby standing on the other side of the window, trying to peer in at me. But WHEW!, the street was finally empty. Libby was gone.
But now I fear that I may become a prisoner in my own home. I fear that she'll be sitting out there in her car, just waiting for me to come out of the house with one of my beloved pooches. Oh, I feel ill.
As my husband and neighbor "M" assembled M's hauling trailer in order to transport our stove (see next blog for that story), I let the two big kids out back to run and play, and I took Olivia out for a little stroll on the leash. As I was approaching the intersection in front of our house, a woman pulled up and stopped her car, rolled down her window and commented on what a beautiful dog Olivia was. I thanked her, and prepared to walk on.
But that wasn't to be.
Same strange woman then asked if she could pet Olivia, I agreed, and this ding-bat started to do a U-turn in the middle of the street, turning directly into the path of an on-coming car. A collision was avoided, then the ding-bat pulled up in front of our house and parked. I walked around her car and she reached out to pet Olivia. I figured there'd be a couple of moments of oohing and ahhing over Olivia, then the ding-bat would leave and we'd be allowed to walk on. But that was not to be.
Ding-bat, who I believe finally introduced herself as "Libby", kept on and on and on, telling me her entire life story. Mind you, I've never seen this woman before in my life, nor do I ever want to. And she even kept saying, "I know you don't know me, but...", and I'm thinking, "You're right, so let's leave it that way."
She continued oohing and ahhing over Olivia, petting her and asking the usual questions that Dane owners get. All the while, she had her own small mutt sitting in her lap. This dogs name was Yoda, and was, without a doubt, the ugliest canine-creature I've ever seen in my life. He was part Pug, part Border Terrier, and part something else. Oh!, he was hideous! It was like God had picked out the worst features of those parent dogs and thrown them together to create this mutt. The dog was friendly to me though, if not quite accepting of Olivia hanging her head into Libby's car.
Libby continued droning on, yammering about the bass player in the musical group QUEEN, yadda, yadda, yadda, then finally asked me, "what do you do when you're having a bad day?"
And I'm thinking to myself, 'well, I don't drag a perfect stranger into it with me', but I shrugged my shoulders and said, "love on my dogs..."
Libby: "Well, I've been doing that, but it isn't helping."
Me: another shrug of the shoulders, "Take it out on the husband..."
Libby: "I don't have one of those".... and believe you me, I totally understand why.
Me: yet another shoulder shrug, "Go to Dairy Queen." I was running out of suggestions for this basket case.
Libby: "There isn't one around here though."
Me: "Yes there is. The brand new one that just opened up right out here on Hwy. 22, across from the BP." I'm thinking, 'if you hurry, you can get there before they close.'
I was getting desparate to get away from this woman, and I saw John & M going into our house with the dolly so they could get my stove. I latched onto that as an excuse and said, "Oh, I'd better be going now, I need to go help them load a stove."
But for once, John didn't dally on a project, and before I could get away from Libby, he and M were wheeling the stove out the front door. Darn it!!
I was hoping the husband would ask me to accompany them to his dad's house, where they were taking our stove, but he didn't. Instead he rode off into the sunset with M, and left me standing there listening to Libby.
Libby: "where are they taking that stove?"
Me: "to my f-i-l's, we're trading stoves."
Libby: "I could really use a new washer/dryer"
Me: no comment... what did she want, for me to give her my appliances?
Libby: "how did you come up with the name for Olivia?
Me: "Ever watch Law&Order:SVU?"
Libby: "no, I don't have a tv that works. I can't afford cable, and the tv won't pick up anything without it. That's why I'm out driving around, it's too depressing sitting in the apartment alone." Me: No comment. I'm thinking, 'so now we're both depressed!!'
Libby: "Yeah, I'm probably going to have to move into section-8 housing soon."
Me: No comment... what did she want, for me to offer her a place to live? This woman is yammering about moving into sec.-8 housing, yet she has the money to just cruise around in her car while gasoline costs $2.85/gallon?
Then the teenager from next door came walking past and Libby started in on her, yet I still couldn't escape. Libby started quizzing the girl on what she was going to study in college, and telling her she should be concerned with the environment, blah, blah, blah.
I felt so bad for the girl. I somehow felt responsible that she had gotten drug into this madness. But at least she was finally able to escape with the excuse of homework.
By now, Libby was out of her car with Yoda, who I noticed had dried dog-poop caked to the fur around his butt. Eeewww, and this dog has been sitting in her lap? I wasn't having a good feeling that I'd be able to escape anytime soon.
Now the neighbors from up the street, "R&M" came by walking their dog, so it turned into a meeting of the doglovers, and I had to listen to Libby tell them all her whoes too. Then she invited us all to go to Dairy Queen... not that it was her treat, but to keep her company. Then she wanted to know what we usually ordered when we went there. Oh good grief!, would the questions never end???
R&M recommended moo-lattes, while I suggested just a plain vanilla cone she could share with her dog.
Blessedly, at this point, some other neighbors from the other side of the the 'hood, came strolling by and asked about Olivia. I thought, 'oh please don't let these people get sucked into Libby's world!'
Fortunately, Libby stayed put, talking to R&M, and I was able to step a few feet away to chat with these new neighbors. They were pleasant, and most importantly, they were NORMAL, DELIGHTFUL people to talk to. We chatted a few minutes, they continued their walk. I turned to Libby and R&M and attempted to make my exit from this gathering...
but that was not to be.
Libby: "Do you think I could meet your other dogs sometime?"
Me: I latched onto that "sometime" and said, "Oh, well, I guess if you ever see me out with them, then that would be fine", meaning: it sure as hell isn't going to happen right now!
I then excused myself, feeling shame and guilt over leaving R&M to make their own escape from Libby. I hurried into the house, shut and locked the frontdoor behind me. I ran to the back of the house and called for Bootsy & Eliott, got them inside, shut the backdoor and closed the curtains, fast! I then went around closing all the other blinds. I was in fear that Libby would follow me home.
Drats!, I needed to cross the street to retrieve something from M&J's house. What to do?
I grabbed my house keys and locked the frontdoor behind me... I just didn't trust this woman. As I crossed the street, I kept my head down and walked quickly.
After I made it back into my own home, door once again locked securely behind me, I tip-toed and picked my way through the clutter in our front bedroom. This is no easy feat, even in the light of day, but it was now dark outside and I didn't want to turn the bedroom lights on. I snuck over to the window and carefully peeked through the blinds.
I had mental images of Libby standing on the other side of the window, trying to peer in at me. But WHEW!, the street was finally empty. Libby was gone.
But now I fear that I may become a prisoner in my own home. I fear that she'll be sitting out there in her car, just waiting for me to come out of the house with one of my beloved pooches. Oh, I feel ill.
Up for adoption...
A variety of pot/pan lids, and 2 very large pizza pans.
**sniff**
Becareful what you wish for, you may just get it. Once you get it, it may not be what you truly wished for.
I spent the past two days scrubbing my stove, inside & out, in an effort to prepare it for a swap-out. My f-i-l had a newer model stove with the flat top surface, digital clock and oven settings, etc. My stove was 17 years old, and while it still worked well, it was a little rough around some of the edges, so to speak. Since he's getting ready to move into a new condo w/all new appliances, he agreed to let us swap out his existing stove with ours.
I've been eagerly awaiting this day.
So the husband and neighbor "M" loaded up my stove on a dolly and headed for the front door, only to have the stove fall off the dolly, onto "M"'s foot, and putting a big scratch on the side of my stove. **sigh**
Once they returned with my new-used stove, I set about de-greasing it and scrubbing until my back-ache, which had almost gone away, returned with a vengance.
John & I shoved the new stove into place, I placed my pizza pans and skillets in the oven (which is where I store them when not in use), and I attempted to shut the oven door. Hmmm, it wouldn't quite go shut all the way. I opened it back up, saw that the handle to a skillet was sticking out. I spun it around and tried again. Hmmm, still won't shut all the way.
Then I discovere, much to my horror, that the pizza pans were too big to fit in the oven. Oh no!!, this isn't good at all!!! Frozen pizza is one of the main staples in our household, how will we ever be able to prepare them now? Oh pooh!!, now I'll have to get a new, smaller pizza pan.
Then the realization dawned on me... oh NO!!!!!!!, my extra-large, air-bake cookie sheets will never fit in there either!!!!!!! WHAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I love those sheets!, and now they are totally useless to me. Damn it!!
Well, I refuse to put those up for adoption. I'll hold onto them, just in case I should ever get another stove.
Honestly!, why on earth would these appliance manufacturers make stoves with such small ovens?? I haven't tried to see if my roasting pan will fit in there.
Wonder if it's too late to trade stoves again?
When I replaced the cake pans and pot lids in the storage drawer, I tried the lids on all my pans, and weeded out the ones that don't fit anything I own... where do these lids come from anyway? Are they breeding in that dark drawer?
So, if anyone would like to adopt some lids or pizza pans, they need to go to a good home. Otherwise, they'll meet their end in the trash.
**sniff**
Becareful what you wish for, you may just get it. Once you get it, it may not be what you truly wished for.
I spent the past two days scrubbing my stove, inside & out, in an effort to prepare it for a swap-out. My f-i-l had a newer model stove with the flat top surface, digital clock and oven settings, etc. My stove was 17 years old, and while it still worked well, it was a little rough around some of the edges, so to speak. Since he's getting ready to move into a new condo w/all new appliances, he agreed to let us swap out his existing stove with ours.
I've been eagerly awaiting this day.
So the husband and neighbor "M" loaded up my stove on a dolly and headed for the front door, only to have the stove fall off the dolly, onto "M"'s foot, and putting a big scratch on the side of my stove. **sigh**
Once they returned with my new-used stove, I set about de-greasing it and scrubbing until my back-ache, which had almost gone away, returned with a vengance.
John & I shoved the new stove into place, I placed my pizza pans and skillets in the oven (which is where I store them when not in use), and I attempted to shut the oven door. Hmmm, it wouldn't quite go shut all the way. I opened it back up, saw that the handle to a skillet was sticking out. I spun it around and tried again. Hmmm, still won't shut all the way.
Then I discovere, much to my horror, that the pizza pans were too big to fit in the oven. Oh no!!, this isn't good at all!!! Frozen pizza is one of the main staples in our household, how will we ever be able to prepare them now? Oh pooh!!, now I'll have to get a new, smaller pizza pan.
Then the realization dawned on me... oh NO!!!!!!!, my extra-large, air-bake cookie sheets will never fit in there either!!!!!!! WHAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I love those sheets!, and now they are totally useless to me. Damn it!!
Well, I refuse to put those up for adoption. I'll hold onto them, just in case I should ever get another stove.
Honestly!, why on earth would these appliance manufacturers make stoves with such small ovens?? I haven't tried to see if my roasting pan will fit in there.
Wonder if it's too late to trade stoves again?
When I replaced the cake pans and pot lids in the storage drawer, I tried the lids on all my pans, and weeded out the ones that don't fit anything I own... where do these lids come from anyway? Are they breeding in that dark drawer?
So, if anyone would like to adopt some lids or pizza pans, they need to go to a good home. Otherwise, they'll meet their end in the trash.
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
Customer service
I'd like to read a job description for cashiers at some of these stores. I swear, some of them are so lazy, it's a wonder they even have the energy to stand there and scan your groceries, much less put them in bags.
As I've been dealing with a nagging back ache the past few days, when I went to the grocery last night, I opted for a "full-serve" check lane instead of the self-serve. Hmph, for what I got, I may as well have gone self-serve.
The cashier, his name was Jason, had bangs so long, it came down to his nose. I don't know how he could see anything, in fact, I'm not even sure he had eyeballs.
Anyway, he grunted at me from time to time, so I grunted back. He scanned my groceries, dropped the items into the bags... I mean literally, dropped the items. I wondered if my eggs and bread would even make it out of the store in tact.
After he finished scanning the last item, he grunted my total at me and I swiped my debit card. He handed me a receipt than proceeded to just stand there and I suppose stare at me through the curtain of hair, as he waited for me to load all the groceries into the cart, so that he might proceed to the next customer.
I was getting more than a little irritated with Jason, so I snatched up the first bag of groceries, and decided I'd make him wait while I double bagged. I moved onto the 2nd bag of groceries, but before I could even get it double bagged, he started to spin that carousel around so he could have some open bags on his side, mashing the bag of groceries I had in my hand. Now I was really unhappy!! I jerked that carousel back around to where it had been and pointedly asked him: "Exactly whose job is it to do this anyway?"
Jason: "Nobody. Unfortunately, unlike Kroger and some other stores, we don't have baggers here."
Me: "Well then, I think that falls under YOUR job description."
With that, he finally started picking up the rest of my bags. He didn't go as far as to put them in the cart, but at least he handed them to me without crushing anything else.
I know these cashiers don't make a kings ransom in wages, but gimme a break!, a least provide a little customer service. Trust me, it goes a long way.
As I've been dealing with a nagging back ache the past few days, when I went to the grocery last night, I opted for a "full-serve" check lane instead of the self-serve. Hmph, for what I got, I may as well have gone self-serve.
The cashier, his name was Jason, had bangs so long, it came down to his nose. I don't know how he could see anything, in fact, I'm not even sure he had eyeballs.
Anyway, he grunted at me from time to time, so I grunted back. He scanned my groceries, dropped the items into the bags... I mean literally, dropped the items. I wondered if my eggs and bread would even make it out of the store in tact.
After he finished scanning the last item, he grunted my total at me and I swiped my debit card. He handed me a receipt than proceeded to just stand there and I suppose stare at me through the curtain of hair, as he waited for me to load all the groceries into the cart, so that he might proceed to the next customer.
I was getting more than a little irritated with Jason, so I snatched up the first bag of groceries, and decided I'd make him wait while I double bagged. I moved onto the 2nd bag of groceries, but before I could even get it double bagged, he started to spin that carousel around so he could have some open bags on his side, mashing the bag of groceries I had in my hand. Now I was really unhappy!! I jerked that carousel back around to where it had been and pointedly asked him: "Exactly whose job is it to do this anyway?"
Jason: "Nobody. Unfortunately, unlike Kroger and some other stores, we don't have baggers here."
Me: "Well then, I think that falls under YOUR job description."
With that, he finally started picking up the rest of my bags. He didn't go as far as to put them in the cart, but at least he handed them to me without crushing anything else.
I know these cashiers don't make a kings ransom in wages, but gimme a break!, a least provide a little customer service. Trust me, it goes a long way.
ps...
ps...
I forgot to mention that the little refrigerator in the camper kept freezing the food, thereby ruining quite a bit of the potato salad I'd fixed. The carrots were still useable, and the slushy drinks were devine, but I was really bumbed over the 'tater salad. : (
I forgot to mention that the little refrigerator in the camper kept freezing the food, thereby ruining quite a bit of the potato salad I'd fixed. The carrots were still useable, and the slushy drinks were devine, but I was really bumbed over the 'tater salad. : (
Monday, April 10, 2006
PeeWee's Big Adventure
PeeWee (that would be one of my pet-names for Olivia) was introduced to the world of RV'ing this past week as we headed out on vacation. It was an adventure to say the least. This will be a very, very long blog, so consider yourself forewarned.
Day 1, Saturday, 04/01/06: We towed the camper down to the firehouse to give it a good scrubbing as it was covered with 18 months worth of grime. In the process, we discovered where the leak was coming from that had caused the front storage compartment's floor to become spongy. We found 2, count them TWO! cracks in the camper's body. Grrr! Well, too late to get it fixed at this point, it would have to wait until after our trip.
Once the camper was scrubbed down, we towed it to our house and parked it in the front yard, like so much trailer-trash in our east end suburbia neighborhood. I loaded all three danes in the back of my car and headed to Henry Co. where the eldest two children would "vacation" with "grandma Genia". Livvie went along to get a bath. With so much dog riding in the back of the car, I felt like we were about to pop a wheely all the way up the interstate. Bootsy & Eliott were left at camp-grandma's with a stern admonishment that I wanted no reports of bad behavior, no broken bones, etc., etc.
All week long, I had been keeping an eye on the weather forecast for the Park City area, and the weather promised to be beautiful. Temps in the 40's at night, 60's & 70's during the day. Chance of rain on monday, thursday & saturday. I packed clothing & bedding accordingly.
When I had called to make our reservations, the girl had told me about all the amenities they offered at Diamond Caverns, among them, a laundry facility. I thought, "Cool!, I won't have to pack as many clothes, and I'll just do a load of laundry mid-week."
Day 2, Sunday, 04/02/06: Rise & shine, vacation is now officially underway! We loaded the camper and the 4-runner with everything on my many lists (or so I thought). We finally hit the road about 1:30 Louisville time, and headed south. Aside from a little road construction on I-65, it was an uneventful trip. We arrived at the registration office, checked in, and were assigned site #C-2. We drove over to the campground, filled with much anticipation. As the campground came into view, we were somewhat disappointed. It appeared that everyone was crammed in their like sardines. And, except for the trees that formed a barrier around the campground itself, there were very few trees in site, thus not giving me the feel of being out in the woods. Well, what did I expect from a "resort" establishment? Ho-humm... We pulled up to site C-2 and both said, "you've got to be kidding!", there was no way our little camper was going to fit in there, as there was already a larger trailer parked at the other end of our site. The camp-host came over and said, "yep, that's C-2. The owner came in a few years ago and decided to make each site a 'double', meaning two rv's per site." Again, "you've got to be kidding!" Okay, even if you could manage to make two rv's fit a site, where were we supposed to park our vehicle that we used to tow it with, much less our vehicle, plus the other camper's?
We grumbled and the camp-host (Robert) told us to go down a little ways to C-9 (or whatever), so we drove down a little farther, only to find a space already occupied by a mini-motorhome. I got out of our car, promptly cut the side of my foot on a stick that was lying on the ground, and just stood in the middle of the site shaking my head. I was all ready to hit the road in search of a different campground. Then to my horror, a man came out of the mini-motorhome and I cringed. He bore such a striking resemblance to a former uncle-in-law that I thought, "Oh no, I have to spend my vacation camping next to J.D.?" (sorry Carol). His wife followed behind and they were both about to have a fit because we might have to share a site with them. Hey, I wasn't crazy about the idea either, J.D. or not. But, the part of the site I was standing on was at such a slant, there was no possible way we'd ever get the camper level, so then Robert directed us to the next site C-11. It was the last site in the row, and had a wide open yard next to it with gently rolling hills and wide open space. Ahhh, finally. Now, if we just didn't have the J.D.-look-alike next door. Of course it wasn't J.D., the man's name was Brian, and they were from Michigan. He was camping with his wife, 2 sons and 2 dogs in a camper that was smaller than ours. Brian and family seemed nice enough, so I dismissed my worries and we set about setting up camp.
Robert welcomed us and pointed out the amenities... the bath houses at either end of the campground. However, he pointed out, the one at the far end, down in the valley, wasn't finished being de-winterized. We were welcome to use it of course, but there weren't any shower curtains up yet. Oh yeah, and the laundry room was down there too, but it wasn't available for use yet, as it hadn't been de-winterized yet either.
WHAT?? GRRRR!!! It would've been nice if they had mentioned that when I made the reservations!, now what were we going to do for clean clothes? He promptly informed me that there was a laundrymat 5 miles away in Cave City. I promptly swore under my breath and thanked him for his help.
The camper was leveled, electricity plugged in, car unloaded, water hooked up. I set about putting the inside of the camper in order while John piddled on the outside. I had been working at the front end of the camper and finally walked towards the back, only to suddenly find myself standing in ankle-deep water. WHERE WAS THAT COMING FROM??????? I looked down to discover water pouring out of the shower stall. GRRRRR!!!!
We had no plans of using the shower/toilet on this trip, so I hadn't set it up, instead just using it for a storage area. Of course, the items I was storing in it was the laundry basket full of clean clothing. I flipped the lid of the shower up, dug through the shower curtain and found the faucet handle, which had somehow been left in the on position when we de-winterized it. Needless to say I was screaming for John, cussing worse than a drunken sailor, and slinging wet stuff everywhere. I lifted the basket of clothes, and water ran out all over the place. Fortunately, not everything in the basket had gotten soaked, only my clothes that were on bottom. John's clothes on the top were still dry.
Robert stopped back by and I asked, "I know the washers aren't working yet, but how about the clothes dryers?"
"Nope, nothing's working yet."
More profain language under my breath. By now, I was hating that campground, was near tears, and was ready to go home. And on top of all that, the skies were getting darker as rain threatened the area. Robert informed us that severe weather was headed our way, and if necessary, head to one of the bath houses for shelter, and we were welcome to take Olivia with us. Ah, finally, a bit of good news. We could shelter our pooch from the storm.
Once the water was mopped up, fortunately, I'd packed extra towels for just such an emergency, the camper was ready to go, and we were ready to eat. By now we were exhausted, and it was too windy out to try cooking over an open fire, so we opted for canned soup heated up in the micro-wave and grilled cheese sandwiches. Mmm-mm, we're roughing it now.
Of course, all the while we'd been setting up and cooking, it sprinkled rain off and on. I opened the windows, it rained, I closed the windows, it stopped. This game went on for a while 'til I got tired of it, got hot and humid from the moisture in the camper, and I finally turned on the A/C. Gee, air conditioning on the 2nd day of April. This wasn't what I had in mind.
The evening wore on, and "neighbor" Brian came a knockin' on our door, said there was a tornado warning and we were to head for shelter. So we loaded "PeeWee" up for the first of several Chinese fire-drills we were to have this week. Up to the main bath house we went. Got her out of the car, only to find out that it was a tornado watch... not quite as serious as a warning. So we loaded her up and went back to the camper. A few minutes later, Robert knocked on our door, now it had been upgraded to a warning, so again, we loaded up in the car and drove to the other bath house that was down in the valley. It was a one-story, concrete block structure, and we felt it would be safer than the aluminum sided, two-story structure up on the hill. Plus, we thought it would be less crowded, and since we had the dog... well, you do the math.
We hunkered down in the laundry room with Brian & family and rode out the first round of tornadoes in the area. Once they had passed, we loaded Olivia in the car yet again, and returned to camp, and settled down to go to sleep. About 12:30 am, the heavens opened up and the rain storm from hell hit us. The rain pelting the camper was soooo loud, and the winds shook us to and fro, but we held on and weathered the storm.
Day 3, Monday, 04/03/06: The day dawned to pleasant temperatures, a bit breezy perhaps, but nothing we couldn't handle. It looked to be a beautiful day... NOT!
That didn't last long. The temperatures started dropping, and we were sure it would start snowing. I of course had no warm clothing, as mine were soaking wet.
We put the awning up before breakfast, only to take it down again when the high winds picked up. I fixed us a big breakfast on the outdoor stove, only to discover that I had somehow forgotten to pack coffee.
Why do I ever bother making lists? I know I had coffee in my hand at one point. So why didn't it get packed? Not only did I not pack the coffee, I didn't pack the camera. Stupid lists!!!!
I went to the far bath house to shower, undressed, turned the water on only to discover that the water was brown, and bitterly cold. Apparently, they hadn't finished de-winterizing down there yet either. Sure, we were welcome to use those showers, as long as we didn't mind brown, frigid water. Grrr! I re-dressed and hiked to the other bath house.
While I finished getting dressed, John went to shower, and I listened to Brian's wife screaming at the kids for 5 minutes. John returned and then we both listened to Brian scream at his wife & both sons for over a half an hour. We were never really sure what he was so pissed about, but whatever it was, apparently the kids/wife had tried blaming the dogs for some offense and Brian wasn't buying that it was the dogs' fault, because, after all, they're just dumb animals and they don't know any better.
A short time later, we saw them pulling up stakes, so to speak, and we silently cheered that they were leaving, only to have our joy dashed when we noticed the kids bikes still there. Darn!, that meant they were coming back.
We loaded up Olivia and the wet laundry and headed through Mammoth Cave Park to get to aunt Jane's house, where we promptly invited ourselves to the use of her clothes dryer. We urged her to make a Wal-mart run with us. Thank goodness for Wal-marts. We can't ever go camping without having one close by so we can get all the things we forgot to pack.
When we returned to camp, the neighbors had returned... Drats!!..., but not for long. By now the temperature was very cold and the wind was quite blustery. Brian and family loaded up and headed for Florida and warmer weather... good ridance.
The wind died down enough for us to grill hotdogs & hamburgers over the fire. That night, we slept with the space heater on, and still nearly froze.
I don't mind camping in cold weather, in fact, I rather enjoy it, but only when I'm prepared for it... meaning, appropriate clothing, and bedding. These temperatures were not what I expected... darned National Weather Service. I'm seriously considering writing them a letter!
Day 4, Tuesday, 04/04/04: Woke up to frost covering everything.. brrrrr! We walked to the restroom and I found a little sparrow on the ground that was nearly frozen to death. I actually thought it was dead, it looked decapitated. It's head was tucked tight beneath it's wing, and it was trembling so hard. But as it was gone when I checked later, I assume it flew off when it warmed up enough. Fixed a big breakfast, including a hashbrown casserole I'd fixed in the mini-crockpot overnight.
The day did warm up and was pretty, if not breezy. We took several walks, exploring the resort. I'm a bad, bad mother. The sun was so very bright, but I had a mental lapse and had Livvie out in the sunshine, totally forgetting about her pale eyes being so sensative to the sun. By the time I took her indoors, she was very nearly blind. Poor little thing walked around with her eyes shut tight. When she did open, the 3rd eyelid was very red and covered the entire eye. Needless to say I felt very bad about what I'd done to her.
I started throwing the ingredients for a small pot of chili together in the small crockpot, only to find out that I'd forgot to pack chili beans. Stupid, useless lists!
We cooked lunch over the campfire, then John laid out by the fire and proceeded to sunburn his face and legs.
We were constantly amazed at how fast some of these people set-up and break-down their camps. Guess that's the luxury of not having a pop-up camper. We had the only one there, the entire week.
I don't think I'm exaggerating when I say, that 3 out of every 4 camper that came into the campground that week was either from Michigan or Ontario. All those Canadian people of course ended every sentence in, "eh?".
It was extremely cold sleeping that night. Damned National Weather Service!!
Day 5, Wednesday, 04/05/06: Aside from being cold in the morning, it was gorgeous the rest of the day... figures!, now we needed to do laundry. So we hauled all the dirty clothes and towels, and the dog, back over to aunt Jane's and spent the day there. The weather channel shows more crappy weather headed our way.
Returned back to campsite only to discover that John had lost his cell phone. I tried calling his number, but it went straight to voice mail. We called Jane and she looked in the chair John had sat in, but she didn't find it. The only other place we could think of it might be was at the Annetta Fire Dept... we had stopped there to let Olivia try and use the potty. So I started dinner while John drove back across country in search of his phone. It wasn't at the fire dept., so he drove on to his aunt's to look further. By now, she'd gone out so he had to break in, hoping that none of her 4 dogs would bite him in the process. He eventually found the phone, in the chair he'd been sitting in... she hadn't felt down deep enough in the cushion. **sigh**
While he was in search of his phone, I started dinner, preparing French-onion potatoes. I cut them up and threw them in an oven-roasting bag and placed it in the slow-roaster oven.
NOTE!, in the future, don't use oven roasting bag in slow-roaster ovens, they will melt.
After dinner, John was putting some lotion on his legs and Olivia stepped on the open tube of lotion, squirting it all over the place.
A few positive things about our trip: The camp staff and hosts were all very nice. Robert & Bill, the co-hosts, couldn't do enough to help in any way possible.
The campgrounds and facilities are very clean. There were lots of things to do... that is, if you don't have to babysit a large dog at all times.
There were hardly any bugs, always a bonus!
Day 6, Thursday, 04/06/2006: Sucky-assed weather! It started raining about 6:20 a.m. (all times I've listed have been Louisville time), and it didn't let up until well after noon. Cold & wet, blech! We laid around in our jammies 'til the rain finally quit. On the plus side, at least there was no wind with this rain. I cooked another big breakfast, finishing off the eggs. Once we finally cleaned ourselves up, we went driving and exploring the park. Don't think we'll ever camp at Mammoth Cave's campgrounds, they've no water or electrical hook-up. That's much too savage camping for my liking.
The rain returned in the form of sprinkilings. That evening, we found 2 fleas on Olivia. GRRR!
I managed to break the soap dispenser in the women's restroom somehow... oops!
Day 7, Friday, 04/07/2006: Darned weather!! High winds hit again @ 3:30 a.m. We scrambled to take down the awning without waking the neighbors. The temperature was warmer at 3:30 than it had been all the day before... go figure! It sprinkled rain off and on until 8:30 a.m.
The sun finally came out bright and the day improved. We lowered the awning again.
More tornado warnings that afternoon, meaning, more Chinese fire-drills for PeeWee, but not before once again putting the awning away. We hustled Olivia down to the laundry room again. Oh, guess what, now the washers were hooked up! Figures!!
The storms cleared again, and we then headed to Park Mammoth Lodge to have dinner with Jane & Fred. The food was good, even if the catfish was cold. The service truly sucked, and I'm not alone in my opinion.
Back at camp, more tornado warnings, back to the bath house again. This time, we huddled on the floor of the mens room... **eeewww**
Olivia has become conditioned to getting in and out of the vehicle by now. Poor thing, she'd no sooner lie down in the car than we'd make her get out, or she'd no sooner lie down in the camper than we'd wake her up and hustle her to the car. I don't think she was impressed with her first camping experience.
Saturday morning, let's get the hell out of Dodge! When I awoke, my back was aching, but I mustered through, we packed it in and hit the road.
Just south of Shepherdsville, we barely avoided catastrophe. Olivia started thrashing around in the back of the 4-Runner, then before we knew what had happened, she was climbing across the back seat, the coolers, and the lawn furniture, in an attempt to sit up front with us. Apparently the dog-barrier had come loose and fallen on her, freaking her out. Despite my screaming bach-ache, I managed to keep her held back until John could get pulled over. I got her out of the car and walked way off the side of the road, hoping to avoid any traffic that should happen to go past and hit us.
Once back in the car, we made it home and did the flight of the bumble-bee getting things unloaded. Then headed to the fire house to give it a good cleaning, inside & out.
Sunday evening, 12 loads of laundry later, all three dogs back home in the fold, 2 Percocets later, my back still ached, so I went to bed, only to toss and turn all night.
Bootsy was given several attitude adjustments after she arrived home. Her mild dislike of Olivia apparently intensified, and she attacked poor Livvie several times. John & I both had to take her down a notch. Life is now back to normal.
John dropped the camper off at Leisure Life this morning to get repaired, only to get attitude from them. They don't want to fix the cracks, claiming that it isn't covered under warranty. I'm seriously considering trading this lemon in on a new model... one that isn't made by Coleman/Fleetwood.
It's good to be back.
Day 1, Saturday, 04/01/06: We towed the camper down to the firehouse to give it a good scrubbing as it was covered with 18 months worth of grime. In the process, we discovered where the leak was coming from that had caused the front storage compartment's floor to become spongy. We found 2, count them TWO! cracks in the camper's body. Grrr! Well, too late to get it fixed at this point, it would have to wait until after our trip.
Once the camper was scrubbed down, we towed it to our house and parked it in the front yard, like so much trailer-trash in our east end suburbia neighborhood. I loaded all three danes in the back of my car and headed to Henry Co. where the eldest two children would "vacation" with "grandma Genia". Livvie went along to get a bath. With so much dog riding in the back of the car, I felt like we were about to pop a wheely all the way up the interstate. Bootsy & Eliott were left at camp-grandma's with a stern admonishment that I wanted no reports of bad behavior, no broken bones, etc., etc.
All week long, I had been keeping an eye on the weather forecast for the Park City area, and the weather promised to be beautiful. Temps in the 40's at night, 60's & 70's during the day. Chance of rain on monday, thursday & saturday. I packed clothing & bedding accordingly.
When I had called to make our reservations, the girl had told me about all the amenities they offered at Diamond Caverns, among them, a laundry facility. I thought, "Cool!, I won't have to pack as many clothes, and I'll just do a load of laundry mid-week."
Day 2, Sunday, 04/02/06: Rise & shine, vacation is now officially underway! We loaded the camper and the 4-runner with everything on my many lists (or so I thought). We finally hit the road about 1:30 Louisville time, and headed south. Aside from a little road construction on I-65, it was an uneventful trip. We arrived at the registration office, checked in, and were assigned site #C-2. We drove over to the campground, filled with much anticipation. As the campground came into view, we were somewhat disappointed. It appeared that everyone was crammed in their like sardines. And, except for the trees that formed a barrier around the campground itself, there were very few trees in site, thus not giving me the feel of being out in the woods. Well, what did I expect from a "resort" establishment? Ho-humm... We pulled up to site C-2 and both said, "you've got to be kidding!", there was no way our little camper was going to fit in there, as there was already a larger trailer parked at the other end of our site. The camp-host came over and said, "yep, that's C-2. The owner came in a few years ago and decided to make each site a 'double', meaning two rv's per site." Again, "you've got to be kidding!" Okay, even if you could manage to make two rv's fit a site, where were we supposed to park our vehicle that we used to tow it with, much less our vehicle, plus the other camper's?
We grumbled and the camp-host (Robert) told us to go down a little ways to C-9 (or whatever), so we drove down a little farther, only to find a space already occupied by a mini-motorhome. I got out of our car, promptly cut the side of my foot on a stick that was lying on the ground, and just stood in the middle of the site shaking my head. I was all ready to hit the road in search of a different campground. Then to my horror, a man came out of the mini-motorhome and I cringed. He bore such a striking resemblance to a former uncle-in-law that I thought, "Oh no, I have to spend my vacation camping next to J.D.?" (sorry Carol). His wife followed behind and they were both about to have a fit because we might have to share a site with them. Hey, I wasn't crazy about the idea either, J.D. or not. But, the part of the site I was standing on was at such a slant, there was no possible way we'd ever get the camper level, so then Robert directed us to the next site C-11. It was the last site in the row, and had a wide open yard next to it with gently rolling hills and wide open space. Ahhh, finally. Now, if we just didn't have the J.D.-look-alike next door. Of course it wasn't J.D., the man's name was Brian, and they were from Michigan. He was camping with his wife, 2 sons and 2 dogs in a camper that was smaller than ours. Brian and family seemed nice enough, so I dismissed my worries and we set about setting up camp.
Robert welcomed us and pointed out the amenities... the bath houses at either end of the campground. However, he pointed out, the one at the far end, down in the valley, wasn't finished being de-winterized. We were welcome to use it of course, but there weren't any shower curtains up yet. Oh yeah, and the laundry room was down there too, but it wasn't available for use yet, as it hadn't been de-winterized yet either.
WHAT?? GRRRR!!! It would've been nice if they had mentioned that when I made the reservations!, now what were we going to do for clean clothes? He promptly informed me that there was a laundrymat 5 miles away in Cave City. I promptly swore under my breath and thanked him for his help.
The camper was leveled, electricity plugged in, car unloaded, water hooked up. I set about putting the inside of the camper in order while John piddled on the outside. I had been working at the front end of the camper and finally walked towards the back, only to suddenly find myself standing in ankle-deep water. WHERE WAS THAT COMING FROM??????? I looked down to discover water pouring out of the shower stall. GRRRRR!!!!
We had no plans of using the shower/toilet on this trip, so I hadn't set it up, instead just using it for a storage area. Of course, the items I was storing in it was the laundry basket full of clean clothing. I flipped the lid of the shower up, dug through the shower curtain and found the faucet handle, which had somehow been left in the on position when we de-winterized it. Needless to say I was screaming for John, cussing worse than a drunken sailor, and slinging wet stuff everywhere. I lifted the basket of clothes, and water ran out all over the place. Fortunately, not everything in the basket had gotten soaked, only my clothes that were on bottom. John's clothes on the top were still dry.
Robert stopped back by and I asked, "I know the washers aren't working yet, but how about the clothes dryers?"
"Nope, nothing's working yet."
More profain language under my breath. By now, I was hating that campground, was near tears, and was ready to go home. And on top of all that, the skies were getting darker as rain threatened the area. Robert informed us that severe weather was headed our way, and if necessary, head to one of the bath houses for shelter, and we were welcome to take Olivia with us. Ah, finally, a bit of good news. We could shelter our pooch from the storm.
Once the water was mopped up, fortunately, I'd packed extra towels for just such an emergency, the camper was ready to go, and we were ready to eat. By now we were exhausted, and it was too windy out to try cooking over an open fire, so we opted for canned soup heated up in the micro-wave and grilled cheese sandwiches. Mmm-mm, we're roughing it now.
Of course, all the while we'd been setting up and cooking, it sprinkled rain off and on. I opened the windows, it rained, I closed the windows, it stopped. This game went on for a while 'til I got tired of it, got hot and humid from the moisture in the camper, and I finally turned on the A/C. Gee, air conditioning on the 2nd day of April. This wasn't what I had in mind.
The evening wore on, and "neighbor" Brian came a knockin' on our door, said there was a tornado warning and we were to head for shelter. So we loaded "PeeWee" up for the first of several Chinese fire-drills we were to have this week. Up to the main bath house we went. Got her out of the car, only to find out that it was a tornado watch... not quite as serious as a warning. So we loaded her up and went back to the camper. A few minutes later, Robert knocked on our door, now it had been upgraded to a warning, so again, we loaded up in the car and drove to the other bath house that was down in the valley. It was a one-story, concrete block structure, and we felt it would be safer than the aluminum sided, two-story structure up on the hill. Plus, we thought it would be less crowded, and since we had the dog... well, you do the math.
We hunkered down in the laundry room with Brian & family and rode out the first round of tornadoes in the area. Once they had passed, we loaded Olivia in the car yet again, and returned to camp, and settled down to go to sleep. About 12:30 am, the heavens opened up and the rain storm from hell hit us. The rain pelting the camper was soooo loud, and the winds shook us to and fro, but we held on and weathered the storm.
Day 3, Monday, 04/03/06: The day dawned to pleasant temperatures, a bit breezy perhaps, but nothing we couldn't handle. It looked to be a beautiful day... NOT!
That didn't last long. The temperatures started dropping, and we were sure it would start snowing. I of course had no warm clothing, as mine were soaking wet.
We put the awning up before breakfast, only to take it down again when the high winds picked up. I fixed us a big breakfast on the outdoor stove, only to discover that I had somehow forgotten to pack coffee.
Why do I ever bother making lists? I know I had coffee in my hand at one point. So why didn't it get packed? Not only did I not pack the coffee, I didn't pack the camera. Stupid lists!!!!
I went to the far bath house to shower, undressed, turned the water on only to discover that the water was brown, and bitterly cold. Apparently, they hadn't finished de-winterizing down there yet either. Sure, we were welcome to use those showers, as long as we didn't mind brown, frigid water. Grrr! I re-dressed and hiked to the other bath house.
While I finished getting dressed, John went to shower, and I listened to Brian's wife screaming at the kids for 5 minutes. John returned and then we both listened to Brian scream at his wife & both sons for over a half an hour. We were never really sure what he was so pissed about, but whatever it was, apparently the kids/wife had tried blaming the dogs for some offense and Brian wasn't buying that it was the dogs' fault, because, after all, they're just dumb animals and they don't know any better.
A short time later, we saw them pulling up stakes, so to speak, and we silently cheered that they were leaving, only to have our joy dashed when we noticed the kids bikes still there. Darn!, that meant they were coming back.
We loaded up Olivia and the wet laundry and headed through Mammoth Cave Park to get to aunt Jane's house, where we promptly invited ourselves to the use of her clothes dryer. We urged her to make a Wal-mart run with us. Thank goodness for Wal-marts. We can't ever go camping without having one close by so we can get all the things we forgot to pack.
When we returned to camp, the neighbors had returned... Drats!!..., but not for long. By now the temperature was very cold and the wind was quite blustery. Brian and family loaded up and headed for Florida and warmer weather... good ridance.
The wind died down enough for us to grill hotdogs & hamburgers over the fire. That night, we slept with the space heater on, and still nearly froze.
I don't mind camping in cold weather, in fact, I rather enjoy it, but only when I'm prepared for it... meaning, appropriate clothing, and bedding. These temperatures were not what I expected... darned National Weather Service. I'm seriously considering writing them a letter!
Day 4, Tuesday, 04/04/04: Woke up to frost covering everything.. brrrrr! We walked to the restroom and I found a little sparrow on the ground that was nearly frozen to death. I actually thought it was dead, it looked decapitated. It's head was tucked tight beneath it's wing, and it was trembling so hard. But as it was gone when I checked later, I assume it flew off when it warmed up enough. Fixed a big breakfast, including a hashbrown casserole I'd fixed in the mini-crockpot overnight.
The day did warm up and was pretty, if not breezy. We took several walks, exploring the resort. I'm a bad, bad mother. The sun was so very bright, but I had a mental lapse and had Livvie out in the sunshine, totally forgetting about her pale eyes being so sensative to the sun. By the time I took her indoors, she was very nearly blind. Poor little thing walked around with her eyes shut tight. When she did open, the 3rd eyelid was very red and covered the entire eye. Needless to say I felt very bad about what I'd done to her.
I started throwing the ingredients for a small pot of chili together in the small crockpot, only to find out that I'd forgot to pack chili beans. Stupid, useless lists!
We cooked lunch over the campfire, then John laid out by the fire and proceeded to sunburn his face and legs.
We were constantly amazed at how fast some of these people set-up and break-down their camps. Guess that's the luxury of not having a pop-up camper. We had the only one there, the entire week.
I don't think I'm exaggerating when I say, that 3 out of every 4 camper that came into the campground that week was either from Michigan or Ontario. All those Canadian people of course ended every sentence in, "eh?".
It was extremely cold sleeping that night. Damned National Weather Service!!
Day 5, Wednesday, 04/05/06: Aside from being cold in the morning, it was gorgeous the rest of the day... figures!, now we needed to do laundry. So we hauled all the dirty clothes and towels, and the dog, back over to aunt Jane's and spent the day there. The weather channel shows more crappy weather headed our way.
Returned back to campsite only to discover that John had lost his cell phone. I tried calling his number, but it went straight to voice mail. We called Jane and she looked in the chair John had sat in, but she didn't find it. The only other place we could think of it might be was at the Annetta Fire Dept... we had stopped there to let Olivia try and use the potty. So I started dinner while John drove back across country in search of his phone. It wasn't at the fire dept., so he drove on to his aunt's to look further. By now, she'd gone out so he had to break in, hoping that none of her 4 dogs would bite him in the process. He eventually found the phone, in the chair he'd been sitting in... she hadn't felt down deep enough in the cushion. **sigh**
While he was in search of his phone, I started dinner, preparing French-onion potatoes. I cut them up and threw them in an oven-roasting bag and placed it in the slow-roaster oven.
NOTE!, in the future, don't use oven roasting bag in slow-roaster ovens, they will melt.
After dinner, John was putting some lotion on his legs and Olivia stepped on the open tube of lotion, squirting it all over the place.
A few positive things about our trip: The camp staff and hosts were all very nice. Robert & Bill, the co-hosts, couldn't do enough to help in any way possible.
The campgrounds and facilities are very clean. There were lots of things to do... that is, if you don't have to babysit a large dog at all times.
There were hardly any bugs, always a bonus!
Day 6, Thursday, 04/06/2006: Sucky-assed weather! It started raining about 6:20 a.m. (all times I've listed have been Louisville time), and it didn't let up until well after noon. Cold & wet, blech! We laid around in our jammies 'til the rain finally quit. On the plus side, at least there was no wind with this rain. I cooked another big breakfast, finishing off the eggs. Once we finally cleaned ourselves up, we went driving and exploring the park. Don't think we'll ever camp at Mammoth Cave's campgrounds, they've no water or electrical hook-up. That's much too savage camping for my liking.
The rain returned in the form of sprinkilings. That evening, we found 2 fleas on Olivia. GRRR!
I managed to break the soap dispenser in the women's restroom somehow... oops!
Day 7, Friday, 04/07/2006: Darned weather!! High winds hit again @ 3:30 a.m. We scrambled to take down the awning without waking the neighbors. The temperature was warmer at 3:30 than it had been all the day before... go figure! It sprinkled rain off and on until 8:30 a.m.
The sun finally came out bright and the day improved. We lowered the awning again.
More tornado warnings that afternoon, meaning, more Chinese fire-drills for PeeWee, but not before once again putting the awning away. We hustled Olivia down to the laundry room again. Oh, guess what, now the washers were hooked up! Figures!!
The storms cleared again, and we then headed to Park Mammoth Lodge to have dinner with Jane & Fred. The food was good, even if the catfish was cold. The service truly sucked, and I'm not alone in my opinion.
Back at camp, more tornado warnings, back to the bath house again. This time, we huddled on the floor of the mens room... **eeewww**
Olivia has become conditioned to getting in and out of the vehicle by now. Poor thing, she'd no sooner lie down in the car than we'd make her get out, or she'd no sooner lie down in the camper than we'd wake her up and hustle her to the car. I don't think she was impressed with her first camping experience.
Saturday morning, let's get the hell out of Dodge! When I awoke, my back was aching, but I mustered through, we packed it in and hit the road.
Just south of Shepherdsville, we barely avoided catastrophe. Olivia started thrashing around in the back of the 4-Runner, then before we knew what had happened, she was climbing across the back seat, the coolers, and the lawn furniture, in an attempt to sit up front with us. Apparently the dog-barrier had come loose and fallen on her, freaking her out. Despite my screaming bach-ache, I managed to keep her held back until John could get pulled over. I got her out of the car and walked way off the side of the road, hoping to avoid any traffic that should happen to go past and hit us.
Once back in the car, we made it home and did the flight of the bumble-bee getting things unloaded. Then headed to the fire house to give it a good cleaning, inside & out.
Sunday evening, 12 loads of laundry later, all three dogs back home in the fold, 2 Percocets later, my back still ached, so I went to bed, only to toss and turn all night.
Bootsy was given several attitude adjustments after she arrived home. Her mild dislike of Olivia apparently intensified, and she attacked poor Livvie several times. John & I both had to take her down a notch. Life is now back to normal.
John dropped the camper off at Leisure Life this morning to get repaired, only to get attitude from them. They don't want to fix the cracks, claiming that it isn't covered under warranty. I'm seriously considering trading this lemon in on a new model... one that isn't made by Coleman/Fleetwood.
It's good to be back.
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