Name that Landmark

I need help (in more ways than one), but for now, I'll settle for anybody's help in identifying the landmark in this photo.

It was taken in Aug. of 1991, from a viewpoint somewhere in either Pulaski or Whitley counties (south of Somerset). The vantage point is slightly southwest of the Cumberland Falls.

I don't know if this is the Natural Bridge in Slade, KY, or what. I've never actually been there. And, the pix I've looked up on the 'net all have the appearance of it having a squarish opening under the bridge, this one is obviously round. My vantage point when taking the picture could easily have been a few miles away, but the technology of "zoom" made it appear much closer.

So does anybody have any suggestions???

Oh Waiter, there's a fly in my soup

Yesterday, things had finally died down (pun intended) around here. We had no bodies in the house, aside from those of us that were still among the living, and I had all the paperwork finally caught up. As we'd worked so hard over the two previous weeks and things were quiet, the boss told us to get some money out of the "slush" fund and go take a long lunch. He didn't have to tell us twice.
We decided to go to a new Mexican place in town. Actually, it wasn't really new, but it was "new" to us as we had never been to this particular eating establishment. It was the El Mezquite (sp?) restaurant, next to the Sav-a-Lot in LaGrange. Eew, I wish we hadn't gone.
Either this place doesn't do much business (& I'm now understanding why), or else we just managed to somehow miss the lunch crowd (although considering it was just after 12pm, I don't know how we could've missed it).
Aside from our waitress, there were only two other people in the place, 2 young hispanic men sharing a meal. We were seated on the opposite side of the very small restaurant. There was some travel show on the tv, but of course the narrators/hosts were speaking Spanish, so we could only admire the scenery of the show.
We were immediately served chips and salsa, and our drinks were brought to us. The chips were fabulously fresh, and the salsa good, if not a little on the spicy side of hot.
We placed our order. I ordered the chicken-nachos, hold the quacamole. My co-worker ordered a chimichanga, double beans, no rice.
Once the food finally came out (seemed to take a while, especially considering there was no crowd ahead of us), my co-worker's was wrong. It had double rice, no beans. It was sent back to be corrected. While her's was in the kitchen being fixed, I tackled my meal. I took one bite... eh, it was alright, but not as good as what I get at our usual Mexican haunts. I prepared to take a second bite when something caught my eye. I stopped my hand in mid-air, my mouth dropped open, and I just stared at the plate. My co-worker asked me what was the matter. I could only point.
It was a hair. And it wasn't one of mine (or hers). BLECH!!!!
I couldn't eat another bite!
All I could do was cover my mouth with my hand and try not to lose it. When the waitress came back with my co-worker's corrected order, I had to point out the offending item and send the food away. Did I want something else?, um, no, don't think so. One plate of hairy food is all I can handle today.
When our waitress finally came around with the bill, there actually was no bill. She said they wouldn't charge us for either meal. Now I felt bad. This place didn't seem to do much business, and was probably struggling to stay open.
I know, in reality, we probably eat more hair (or bugs, or whatever) in our food than we ever realize. But I'd like to keep it that way. A secret. A mystery. I don't want to know if I'm consuming something that perhaps I shouldn't, because otherwise, it just totally ruins the whole dining experience. Ya know what I mean?
Had there actually been a fly in my food, truth be told, I'd probably have waved it away and continued eating. But I just couldn't get past the human hair having fallen off some sweaty cook.

At the Palace

As I was standing in line at the grocery sunday evening, I was thinking to myself: I haven't yet heard anything about the summer movie series at the Louisville Palace. I wonder if they're going to have it?, and if so, what will it be?
What do ya know!, the very next day I saw it advertised on t.v. The series starts this weekend, and it's a run of Abbott & Costello movies. I love their movies!, at least, I did when I was kid. Wonder if they'll still seem as entertaining now that I'm older? Only one way to find out I guess, go and watch. Even John seemed excited over going. Anybody else interested in going? Tickets are only $5 each.

Dry Cleaning update

I stopped by the Plainview Drycleaners in LaGrange this morning, to see if my shrunken pants had been stretched out to their former size & shape.
They hadn't. Well, somewhat they had, but not really.
I went in the back and tried on the pants. I was at least able to get them zipped up this time, but they were a very snug fit. And I do mean snug. Not snug in the way that it was cutting off circulation and that it restricted my breathing, but snug in that they fit like a glove around my belly, butt and upper thighs, accentuating every roll of chub, and especially my Kelsey cakes (& no, I'm not referring to my dog). The crotch of the pants fit very snug against my own privates. Had they been any snugger I'd been sporting a camel-toe. The length still gave the impression of expecting a flood.
I walked out of the restroom and showed the clerk. Does this look normal to you? Do you really think I would wear pants that look like this on me?
I put my cream-colored slacks back on and said, "before they shrunk, the black pants fit me exactly like these pants do."
She told me she'd been in the business for 15 years and had only seen something shrink like that on one other occassion. A woman's sweater had been shrunk so bad it wouldn't have fit a child.
Then her next question threw me for a loop. "Did you by chance buy these pants at Kohls?"
"Well, yes, I probably did."
"That's where that woman had bought her sweater at. She finally ended up taking it back to the store."
Hmmm...
"Well, yeah, I've had a lot of problems with shrinking clothes from Kohls before, but those were always things I've washed, never my dry-cleaning. And I've had these pants cleaned before without any problem."
So she took the pants from me and was going to turn the issue over to her manager.
And I'm going to call Kohls to see what they suggest.

Update on my inquiring mind...

Okay, for two years (at least!), I've been watching this woman walking through our neighborhood, wearing the same exact outfit... as I mentioned in yesterday's blog.
I don't know who she is, I don't think she lives in our subdivision.
But apparently all it took to get her to change clothes was for me to blog about it.
This morning I saw her walking, and she was wearing gray shorts. I nearly fell over!!

D.T.'s

Consider this a warning to all my friends, family, co-workers, neighbors, and drivers' on the road...
I'm giving up soda pops.
When our current supply of sodas (and we've quite a few, so it may be a couple of weeks or so before I'm soda-free) is gone, then that's it.
I can tell you right now, this is going to make me quite irritable. Cranky will take on a whole meaning before I'm off the hard-stuff. I've no doubt I'll suffer through D.T.'s.
If I thought going from regular soda to diet soda was hard when I started dieting 3 years ago (which I gave up dieting over a year ago), then I've no doubt this will be torture.
This probably seems rather extreme, especially for a woman who's husband delivers soda pop for a living. It's the very bread & butter of our existence. But I gotta makes some changes in my life.
So why am I doing this you ask?
Well, I've been reading up on osteoperosis, which I've not even been diagnosed with, but I live in fear of getting (probably more so than the big "C"). The phospherous in sodas counteracts any calcium I take in. So all the milk I've been drinking (not that it's any great quantity), has been for naught!
Grrr.
Yeah, yeah, I know, sodas are bad for you... always have known it, but who cares?, right?
I guess this is just what I needed to finally prod me along. (grumble, grumble). Time to start taking a little bit better care of myself.
Am I going to start dieting again? Probably not, at least, not like I was before. Let me start with cutting out the sodas then go from there.

Priorities

What are your priorities in life?
Let me give you a hypothetical situation: Say you put on a jacket that you hadn't worn in several months, and you find $25 in the pocket, or, you receive a check for $25 in a birthday card. What would you do with the money?
It would probably depend on your priorities in life.
Some people would treat themselves out to a nice dinner (nicer than McDonald's that is).
Some would go to the salon and get their hair done, or get a manicure/pedicure.
Some would put it in the piggy-bank, saving it for use at a later date.
Some would perhaps go purchase a gift for someone special.
So what would I do? Most likely I'd go buy a bag of dog food so that the babies could eat for a couple of weeks.
No one's use of the "found" money is anymore proper or foolish, or whatever, than the next persons. We just each have our different priorities in life.
So what are your priorities?

Inquiring Minds

I've got an inquiring mind again...
My inquiring mind can't help but wonder why: somebody where the same outfit, day in and day out? If it's not actually the same pair of pants, shoes, and shirt, then at the very least they all look exactly the same. There is a lady that walks in our neighborhood every morning. She wears white tennis shoes, black pants, and a white t-shirt, and most times, a black beret. Does she not own any other clothing? Or does she do this in case she should ever go missing, her husband will be able to tell them exactly what kind of clothing she was last seen wearing? It's a mystery to me.

Stranger In the Grocery Store...

Sounds like a title from an Alfred Hitchcock movie, doesn't it?
I had to stop in the store last night to run into the deli and get some lunchmeat for John's lunch this week. As I got into the speedy-checkout lane (there's a contradiction in terms if ever I heard one!!), a man walked up and started to get in line behind me. I had kind of turned and looked at him and when I did so he said, "Oh hey Kim, I thought that was you."
"Oh, hi. How are you."
"Fine."
I turned to face forward again, and my mind started running rampant... who was this person? how did they know me? where do I know them from? or for that matter, do I know them????
I had no idea!!!!
I kept trying to casually look back over my shoulder, trying to place this mystery person. I felt confident he wasn't one of the many firefighters that have passed through my life from one department or another. And I felt confident he wasn't a neighbor or former co-worker. But who was he???? It was making me crazy!!
Mystery man finally went to get in another, shorter line, and he beat me out of the store. But as I was leaving, I tried to keep him in sight as he went in the opposite direction across the parking lot. My husband was waiting in the car for me, and I wanted him to help identify the mystery man. I kept craning my neck, trying to watch where he went. John asked, "what are you doing?", so I told him and described the man's clothes and hair.
"Yeah, I saw somebody come out dressed like that."
"Okay, so who was he?"
"I don't know."
Great, thanks, you've been a big help.
By now I had lost the mystery man.
The only thing we could possibly think of is that he is a co-worker of our neighbor "J", and that we'd met this guy once or twice at one of her parties. But even then, I'm still not sure.
Don't you hate when that happens? Somebody knows you and you've not got a clue who they are.

Bone Test

Well, yesterday was the day. I went for my bone density test. Before I tell you how it went and any results, let me back up to last week and fill you in...
I called my OBGYN's office last week to ask if they performed the test. The girl I spoke with (don't remember her name, but I'll call her Ditzy for the sake of the story) told me that they sent all their patients to DMIA for those tests. Ditzy told me just to call DMIA and schedule an appointment. I asked Ditzy, "do I need a doctor's referral before I go?" Ditzy said, "oh no, just call them. Here's the number."
So I called DMIA. The girl I spoke with asked if I had an order from the doctor. I said "no, the girl told me I didn't need one." She then asked who my doctor was. I told her. She said, "well!, they know better than that! We can go on and schedule the appointment, but call their office back and aske them to fax over an order from the doctor." So I scheduled my appointment for 4pm on the 26th.
I called my doctor's office back, spoke with Ditzy again and told her that DMIA did need an order from the doctor. "Oh, no problem", replied Ditzy, "Which doctor do you see?" I told her. "I'll fax it over right now. Oh wait!, I guess I need your name." Well duh!!, so I told her, and I spelled it out for her.
I left work at 3pm yesterday, went home, changed clothes, grabbed the husband and we went over to DMIA in Dupont. I arrived at 3:55 and filled out my paperwork. A few minutes later, the girl behind the desk asked me if I had my doctor's order with me. Um, no, they were supposed to fax it over to you. Well, sometimes faxes get lost or whatever. So she called the doctor's office to have them fax it over again.
Well guess what!... my doctors office had no record of a work-order in my file and they knew nothing about it. Well of course not. Now the dox office wanted to know why I was there and wanting a bone-density test in the first place. The receptionist handed me the phone and I went through the whole conversation again with my OBGYN's office, then handed the phone back to her. After she hung up, she said they were waiting for my doctor to finish up with a patient and then they'd fax one over.
The technician went on and called me back, had me disrobe and put on one of those ridiculous gowns that leaves one exposed for all the world behind us to see. She said we still had to wait for the doc's orders, but at least we'd be that much prepared for when the fax came through. After 45 minutes and countless phone calls to the doc's office, still nothing. DMIA finally said, "sorry, there's nothing we can do and we don't want to keep making you wait. We'll have to reschedule." Nice. I'm fuming mad by now. Not at DMIA, but at Ditzy, or whatever her real name was. So I left without ever having the test.
I've been mentally preparing the invoice I'm going to be sending my doc's office to reimburse me for my time off from work, my time I spend sitting at DMIA, and my mileage driving over there for no apparent reason.
I called the doc's office first thing this morning, spoke with J.T. (am making sure I take names this time!!). Now my appt. has been rescheduled for the 10th, and not only does DMIA have a copy of the order, I had her fax a copy to me as well.
So that's how my bone density test went.
Hurry up and wait.

The Longest Day...

The longest day is in June they say
The shortest in December
They never came to me that way
The shortest I remember
You came a day with me to stay
And filled my heart with laughter
The longest day you were away
Was the very next day after

by: Edna St. Vincent Millay

Week in review

The past week (hell, the past 2 weeks!) have been very busy, both personally and at work.
Of course you already know about our new Meatlocker-5000 we had installed the previous weekend and our Belle of Louisville Cruise that didn't even leave the dock. But let me fill you in on the rest of the week...

You know it's going to be a bad day when...

You get pulled over on the way to work for speeding. When that happens, you may as well go back home and go to bed. This didn't happen to me, but did happen to my co-worker. Fortunately, the cop let her off with a warning, and she came on into work.

Jesus laid down on the job...
That same afternoon, we were setting up the chapel for a catholic service to be held that evening. They had pushed the casket into place, the torchere (sp?) floor lamps were in place at either end of the casket, umpteen baskets of flowers were placed hither & yon around the room, either on the floor, on tables, or on plant stands, and Jesus on the cross was hung on a stand and placed behind the casket to look down upon the deceased. Then Jesus decided to take a nap! He fell over, knocking the antique floor lamp over, breaking the globe. When the lamp fell over, it knocked over a tall table that was holding a potted plant, which then spilled potting soil all over the carpet. A florist that was delivering flowers while this was going on, knocked over a vase and spilled water all over the floor. Talk about a muddy mess! But fortuantely, we were able to get it all cleaned up before the family arrived for first viewing.

Dry Clean Only...
I don't often take clothes to the dry cleaners, simply because I think it's a scam. Charging all that money to launder a single piece of clothing, when I can wash 20 loads of laundry at home for the same (if not less) money. But as I had the memorial service for John's step-mother to attend this Saturday (24th), I wanted to wear my nice, black, dress slacks.
Wednesday morning I dropped them off at Plainview Cleaners in LaGrange on my way to work. The clerk printed up my ticket and said they'd be ready after 5pm on Friday. I said, "Oh, that's no good. I get off work at 4:30, and I can't hang around waiting on them. And I need them for a funeral on Saturday."
She said she still had some Thursday items that hadn't been sent out yet, she'd just add my pants to them and they'd be ready by 5 pm on Thurday. Perfect.
Friday morning, I stopped to get my pants. I pulled out the claim ticket and noticed that the clerk had put next Thursday's date, the 29th, as the pick-up date. Oh no!!! I walked in, the clerk (a different one) asked, "how may I help you?" I said, "we may have a problem here", and explained the situation to her. She went and looked on the rack, and fortunately, my pants were ready. Hallelujah!! I paid my bill and left.
Saturday morning as the husband and I were getting dressed to go to the church, I took my freshly laundered pants out of the plastic, off the hanger, removed the tag that was pinned to it, and slipped them on.
Hmm, something's not right. Can't.... quite... make... them.... fit..... Oh my gosh!, have I put on that much weight since I last wore them 2 or 3 weeks prior????? No way!!! I mean, they weren't a little bit too tight, they were like 3 sizes too small too tight!! Not only that, I looked down, and the pants that previously had fit me as if they had been tailor made for me, now looked like I was expecting a flood! Not only had the dry cleaners shrunk them in the waist, they'd shrunk the length. I now burst out in tears. I was soooo not happy with Plainview Cleaners! But I didn't have time to deal with them at that moment. I had to scramble to find something else to wear and get that ironed.
When I arrived at the cleaners this morning, I walked in to find yet another clerk working there. She too asked, "how may I help you?", and again I said, "we may have a problem here." I told her I was none to happy with her company at that moment and explained the situation. She took the pants, filled out a work-order and said they could stretch them back out.
Stretch them out? How? They weren't spandex! Well, I can't wait to see how well they stretch my pants out. If they can do that, I may send them my spare closet full of clothes that needs to be stretched out, I could save a bundle not having to buy new clothes. What a concept!!

Bonezzz

Well, with all that's going on with my sister, I've gone into a state of panic-mode over my own physical state (sort of), and now have an appointment on monday afternoon to have a bone-density test done. I'm not looking forward to it, but know it's a necessary evil. Hopefully, maybe the milk I do consume, while not in great quantities, but probably more than a lot of people, will be enough to have staved off the osteoperosis.
Will update you further next week.

Don't believe everything you read...

One of our neighbors recently started a new job, working for an alarm-system company. He drives a take-home van. On the side of the van it reads something to the effect of Bell South Security Systems, blah, blah, blah.
Hmm. You read "Bell South", which is printed in the same font of lettering that the telephone company uses, therefor you tend to think this alarm company is some kind of subsidiary of the phone company, right?
Yeah, I thought so too.
But we would all be wrong.
I was talking to said neighbor last night and he informed me that the company that he actually worked for (can't remember the real name, which, by the way, is printed in smaller letters on the van), pays Bell South phone company for the right to display their name on their vans and other advertisement. But in actuality, have not one thing at all to do with Bell South.
Hmph!, sounds kind of suspicious to me.
I suppose the company does it because Bell South is an instantly recognizable name, like McDonalds or Coca-Cola, and figure it will get them more business.
Makes you wonder what other companies out there are "falsely" advertising their business in such a manner.

Scam!

This is turning out to be such a scam!
I can't believe I was ever suckered into.
It all looks good and fine on paper, but then they try getting you to sign up for stuff and purchase "keepsake" books, and special 3-cd collection, blah, blah, blah.
They're just cheapening the moment for me. : (

Girl-Power!!

I'd like to toot my own horn here for a moment if I may...
Leave it to a woman (that would be moi), to complete in less than 5 minutes, what two men couldn't accomplish in two hours.
As previously mentioned in my "making new friends" blog, I had a service tech at our house for 90 minutes Sunday, trying to program our new thermostat. He gave up, declaring that there was something wrong with it and that it would have to be replaced.
Monday afternoon, yet another service tech (Layne) arrived, supposedly to replace the "defective" thermostat. He pushed a few buttons on it and declared (to my husband), that there wasn't anything wrong with it, that it worked just fine.
Before leaving for work monday morning, I left a list of times for each day of the week, for summer weather and for winter weather, that I wanted the a/c & furnace programmed for. I was very specific about days, times, and temperatures.
Do you think Layne was able to program it properly?
No, of course not.
I woke up this morning and within five minutes of moving around the house new that it wasn't set correctly. It was a wee bit too warm. I looked at the thermostat, which read 78 degrees. It should've read 72 (had it been programmed properly). I started pushing buttons, to see if I could tell what Layne had programmed it for. Geesh!, he had programmed the cooler temp. to come on at 5:30am instead of 3:15. And he had the days all screwed up!
Without even having read the manual on how to program it (I had only briefly skimmed through it on Saturday, looking at some of the features, but not actually read it), I set about re-programming it. When I was finished, I pushed "done".
For good measure, I went back and scrolled through each day, just to double check my work. It was perfect!
Leave it to a woman to do a man's job.

Making new friends

This is without a doubt, one of the longest blogs I've ever written. So by now, you know the routine...blah, blah, blah....
Thursday evening, I noticed the house was feeling pretty toasty, despite the fact that the a/c was on. It was blowing, but it wasn't cool air. As the night was quite comfy outside, I turned the a/c off and opened the windows.
Friday morning I pulled out the yellow pages and started looking for a company to service the unit. One of the main things I looked for in the ads was the phrase "financing available". Now, this phrase can be a good thing, but it can also be a bad thing.
Good: if the bill is going to be large and you don't have the funds, they'll allow you to make payments.
Bad: could mean that this company's rates are so high, you'll almost assuredly need to make payments, even on a simple service call.
The first company I called I got a little bit of an attitude from the girl that answered the phone. She informed me that they don't work after 5pm (after I'd requested they come after 5:30pm), and that weekends were very expensive. They could however fit me in at 8am monday morning.
I thought about it for all of 2 seconds and told her, "ya know, it's going to be really hot this weekend, I can't wait that long", and I hung up.
The second company I called was practically willing to bend over backwards to get my business. I asked if they could come after 5:30 so I'd have a chance to get home from work. The girl said, "I'll just put you down for after 6pm, that way you've got plenty of time. We also work weekends, and there's no extra charge."
Hey, sounded good so far...
Before hanging up, I asked her to have the technician to call when he/she was on the way, so I could meet him/her out front with the dogs, otherwise the dogs would never allow them in the house. She laughed and said they were used to that.
A little after 6pm on friday, my phone rang and my technician, Bill, informed me he was on his way. I took Bootsy & Eliott out front after putting Olivia in her crate. Bill arrived and my dogs stood at attention in the yard, hackles raised just a little bit, but tails (or nub in Bootsy's case) were wagging. Bill approached them in a non-threatening manner, talking to them and holding out his hand. Bootsy backed up a little bit, but didn't freak out over a stranger being so close. Eliott accepted him.
Bill preceded us in the house, looked at the furnacy/blower thingy, then looked at the thermostat. He then asked to see the condenser unit so we directed him out the back door. Bill hooked up gauges to the unit and felt around, sprayed water into it and fiddled around. He then informed us that we were almost completely out of freon. Great. Also, that we had oil in our line that was coming from somewhere, but that shouldn't be there. Even better. I could feel the price tag going up on this service call.
While he continued to fiddle around, his cell phone rang and it was his daughter. They started chatting away and I wondered what I was paying for this phone call. I went in the house to do something and came out a few minutes later.
By now, John had made a new best friend. John was telling Bill about our camper and how we don't get to enjoy it as much as we'd like, his job as a truck driver & how long he'd been doing that, his volunteer firefighting "hobby", and everything else.
So now Bill told us about his hobbies. One of which was going to the shooting range and firing paintballs. Nice.
Then Bill asked if we'd ever been white-water rafting (WWR). I told him the closest I'd been to doing that was a little canoe trip down the Blue River in Corydon. WWR always looked like fun, but "no", I (we) had never been. Well, right then and there we were issued an invitation to join him and his family on their next outting to West Virginia. Bill is a certified WWR guide, and he could show us a great time.
Yeah, all sounds good, I'm thinking, but gee, wonder what the cost is?
All the while we've been talking, Bill has been putting freon back into our a/c unit at a rate of probably $75/pound. He informed us we had a leak, and this was just putting a "band-aid" on the problem, and it wouldn't hold for very long. We needed a new unit... but of course. I just knew that was coming. Here we go, time to bend over!
And just how much was this going to cost?
Well, it all depended on what we got. But of course.
He recommended either "this or that", and called the office to get the pricing on both. For what each cost, one might as well have cost the moon, and the other cost the stars, because they were both out of our reach.
But what's a person to do? Gotta have a/c. I can't survive without it. My dogs can't survive without it. Gotta have it!! The dogs had already suffered through friday's high temperature of about 90, and the summer was only going to get worse.
As it was already after 7:30 in the evening, it was hot out, I was miserable, and not really in a position to start price shopping for the best deal, we gave Bill the go ahead to have a "Meat-locker 5000" installed on saturday. He had us fill out a bunch of paperwork, then told us the installers would be there between 9 & 10am saturday. And, that he'd come by at some point to check on things. Before leaving, he had made big-time friends with Bootsy & Eliott. I told him he should feel honored that Bootsy would even let him pet her. And Eliott even stood up on his hind legs and "hugged" Bill before he left.
The band-aid Bill put on our system was enough to get us through the night. When we got up in the morning it was 60 degrees inside and we could almost see our breath. John had stolen all the covers and was wrapped up like a coccoon.
Later that morning I again waited out front for the installers. The two guys that showed up, John & Alan, got out of their vehicle cautiously and edged their way up the driveway. They made no effort to get to know my canine-kids.
And as everyone who has a dog knows, dogs can tell who likes them, who doesn't, who is afraid of them, and who isn't. And my dogs were no exception. They knew exactly whose buttons they could push.
Every time John or Alan came in the house, all three dogs barked ferociously. I had the dogs confined to the living room so that they wouldn't get in the way. Twice the guys tried to enter the backdoor, and twice the dogs went ballistic, nearly crashing through the screen door to get at the "intruders". After that, they made sure to enter by the frontdoor only.
There was one time I was in the kitchen and had allowed Olivia in to get a drink of water. Afterwards, she walked over to the kitchen/hall doorway and hung her head over the gate. Worker-John was sitting in the floor and had his back to her. She proceeded to bark, inches from his ear. He scrambed to his feet, and I dare say nearly wet himself. I fussed at Olivia for having done that, while I perversly laughed inside, and told her she'd probably taken 10 years off his life, he said probably more than that.
Late in the morning, our new friend, Bill, arrived, unbeknownst to me. He started to walk int he backdoor and the dogs again jumped up. But seeing that it was someone who wasn't afraid of them, they settled down right away.
See?, it's all in how you approach them. Show no fear and talk to the dog like they are your oldest and dearest friend and all will be fine.
Bill informed me he wanted to take my husband to the paintball range with him. Oh good, we're back on that subject. Then he asked when we thought we could go WWR with them. Well gee, let's see, um, I'm spending $5000 on a new a/c unit, financed for 5 years at an APR of 18%, how does the year 2012 sound?
After he left, I swore to myself at the cost of keeping cool. With an additional $2000+ added on from interest, it was almost like buying a new-used car. Okay, so I'd be making a trip to the bank this week to beg for a home-equity loan so I could pay the a/c people off like: RIGHT NOW!, and only have to pay the bank. Gee, then maybe we could take that WWR trip in 3 years instead of 6. Grrrrr!
Before leaving, Bill promised he'd come back on monday to make sure everything was working and completed. Then he said, "you know what, I'll come monday evening, that way we have time to talk".... about paint guns and white-water rafting I suppose.
Long about 2 o'clock, I'd been sitting next to the pool, dangling my feet in the water, attempting to stay cool. I'd have loved to have actually been in the pool (with my friend "J"), but kept thinking they'd be done soon and I'd have to get out. I finally went to check on their progress. John informed me they were almost done and would be finished in another 2 - 3 hours. Two or three hours???? Gulp! Fine, I was getting in the pool.
By now, the tops of my legs were already sunburned and the water felt quite refreshing. I stayed in for an hour. Once I was again dressed and dripping with sweat I informed John & Alan that we had a dinner cruise on the Belle of Louisville that eveing and that I had to leave no later than 6:15. Ooh, they weren't sure they could be done by then. Too bad, I was leaving at that time, and they would be too.
They stepped their pace up a notch and got the a/c running. The house began to cool off and I literally left the house the same time they did. As they hadn't had time to show me how to program the new thermostat, they would send someone by at 9am sunday morning to take care of that. Great.
We made it to the Belle on time, but shortly after boarding the ship, a storm sprung up and the cruise was called off. The dinner buffet was set up in the boiler room and we dined in the enclosed main floor which was like a sauna from the oppressing heat and 300+ bodies. I felt sick most of the evening and couldn't wait to go home. But as my John was one of the committee people that help put the shindig on, he had to be the last person to leave. Great.
Our friends M&J had gone with us. They cleaned up on door-prizes and raffle drawings. John & I didn't get squat, except for some crappy freebies that were being handed out. **pout**
Back home the house felt deliciously cool.
I overslept sunday morning (after John had gone to work), but fortunately the thermostat guy, Robert, didn't show until 10, so it was irrelevant.
He spent, no exaggeration here, 90 minutes trying to figure out the thermostat. You apparently have to be computer literate and have a college degree to figure it out. He finally declared that it wasn't working properly and he'd have a new one sent out on monday morning.
But before leaving, Robert wanted to look at the condensor unit. I pointed him to the back door. Up until now, the dogs had been confined to the living room again, and hadn't come into contact with Robert. When I moved the gate aside and Robert stepped through, the kids jumped up. Robert made it as far as the backdoor before Eliott proceeded to stop him with his growling. As I opened the door to let Robert out, Eliott made a movement as if to bite Robert's butt. He just missed grabbing Robert by the seat of his pants. I displayed my outrage at Eliott and threatened to rip his lips off. Before Robert came back inside, I handed him some string cheese to feed the dogs. He was now best friends with Eliott & Olivia.
I also pointed out to Robert that I wanted somebody to fix the gaping hole in my wall, left there when they relocated my thermostat, and to have the wire to the new thermostat tacked to the wall inside my coat closet, instead of being left to dangle, otherwise we'd be ripping it out the first time we accidentally hung a coat on it. He wrote up the work order, then quickly fixed one more, minor thing in the attic before leaving.
So now it's monday, it's 2:30, and the new thermostat guy only just now arrived at the house. John's been twiddling his thumbs all day waiting on this person, and he has things he could be doing.
Bill however has called me twice to make sure all is going okay.
Our "meat-locker 5000" has kept the house quite comfortable. I hadn't realized how badly our old unit was working. The new unit has a heat-pump on it, and will work in conjunction with our old furnace. Bill said our natural gas consumption should drop by 75%. Finally, a bit of good news.
I guess I'll get home this evening and our new friend will come by to encourage us to go WWR, and to bring treats to the dogs. I have to tell you a bit about Bill. He's 65 years old, with a gray, grizzled beard, a rather large man, and you can't help but take a liking to him (even without the paintball & WWR invites). When he laughs, he sounds just like Santa Claus. With his personality, I dare say he'd make a good Santa Claus too.
Okay, that's my story. Better get to work now.

Will you still love me if I become a carpet inspector?

This morning, as my husband walked around to my side of the bed to kiss me good-bye, before heading off to his job, I lay flat on my back, no pillows beneath my head, and stared up at the ceiling. I put the question to him: Will you still love me if I become a carpet inspector?
Without missing a beat, he replied, "Yes."
He knew what I meant, even if the rest of you don't.

So now I'll elaborate for you...
There was an elderly lady that used to be at the bowling alley on senior citizens day, and she walked all hunched over, apparently staring at the carpet at all times. She wasn't really looking for anything, she just had a very bad curve in her spine. Perhaps cruelly, my husband and a few others referred to her as the "carpet inspector". Certainly not to her face, but just in reference to the fact that she always seemed to be searching for something on the floor.
Over the past couple of years, I've noticed that I'm starting to form a "hump", if you will, between my neck and shoulders, from slumping over all these years. When I do happen to catch a glimpse of it, I try to stand up straighter, but that usually only lasts for a few moments, 'til the thought is gone.
After talking to my mother last night, she mentioned that my sister had the same problem (my sister who is 7 years younger than me, and I'm only 38!). I guess I'd noticed it too, but just didn't want to acknowledge it. Now that it was out there in the open, I went to bed last night dwelling on it. I tossed and I turned, and didn't fall asleep 'til nearly midnight.
When I awoke this morning, it was one of the first things on my mind. All day long I've been trying to sit straighter, and as a result, now my neck and shoulders hurt. **grumble, grumble**
When I first noticed my slump-hump a couple of years ago, I assumed it was a result of people constantly making an issue of my height, all my life. I became self-conscious about that and hung my head/shoulders in an effort to not stand out, but to blend in to the crowd. Too, I'm sure having held a desk job of one form or another, sitting at a computer, for the better part of the past 21 years hasn't helped either.
Perhaps it's time to suck it up and go see a doctor, and perhaps try to keep it from getting any worse, any sooner than necessary.
Getting old is a bitch.

CAN YOU READ ME NOW?

**Sigh**
Well, it's a sure sign that I'm getting older.
Despite the fact that my optometrist tells me each year, for the past 6 or so years, that my vision has steadily improved by varying degrees, I came to the conclusion yesterday that it isn't getting better. So perhaps subconsciously I've just managed to memorize the eye chart at her office and somehow manage to guess at the correct letters/numbers that I read off to her.
I say all this because yesterday, I was convinced that someone had snuck into the office while I was in the restroom and changed the settings on my monitor so that the font size was small. That was my story and I'm sticking to it.
**sigh**
I had to change the display font to large. Ah yes, much easier to read now.
I know in my heart that nobody changed the settings, for my co-workers are blinder than I am. Okay, time to admit that I'm getting old.
Can't wait to hear what the eye doctor has to tell me this September when I go for my annual check-up.

Boycott this business!!!!!

I am sooooo outraged right now, I've had to count to 10, numerous times over just so I could compose myself enough to write this.
It's not often that I sit down to actually read the newspaper, but I did so today, and oh!, how I wish I hadn't!!
On page B3 of todays Metro-Neighborhoods section of the Louisville Courier-Journal, there is an article; the headline reads: La Grange traffic, road changes planned.
Since I work in LaGrange, it caught my attention and I read it. Big mistake!
The article talks about how the flow of traffic will be changed one -way on certain streets and parking on Main will be affected, as the train tracks run right down the middle of the street. Currently, the parking spaces in the affected area are at a slant, but will soon be changed to parallel parking.
Apparently this doesn't sit well with one of the business owners on Main Street.
Kitty Bierbaum, owner of The Old Oak Frame House on Main has this to say (I'm quoting from the newspaper): "I just don't see an advantage to making that parallel. A lot of women can't park parallel."

WHAT did she say?????? Did I read that correctly?, a lot of women can't park parrallel??????
EXCUSE MEEEEE??????????? That woman has got one Hell of a lot of nerve!!! Just because she perhaps can't parallel park, doesn't mean the rest of us women can't. There are certainly a lot of men out there that can't park that way either. Oooohh, that just made me so mad!!!
She will never get one cent of business from this woman, nor from the other women in the office I read the article to. They were as outraged as I was.

So I'm calling for a boycott of The Old Oak Frame House on Main Street in LaGrange, KY, and any other business' that Kitty Bierbaum may operate.
Of all the nerve!!!

Burglar caught in the act!!

As most of you know by now, there have been a rash of burglaries in our neighborhood of late. This past Friday evening, imagine our surprise when the burglar alarm at neighbor M&J's house went off, piercing the air with it's shrill, and very loud noise. At last, the burglar was caught in the act!!
Well, sort of...
John & I had met M&J for dinner at Fazoli's. They were headed to M's softball game after dinner, and I requested (& was granted permission) to use their computer while they were out for the evening.
After we arrived home, I went over to their house, unlocked the door like I've done hundreds of times before over the past 4 years, and was greeted with the little chirp from the alarm pad which indicated a door had been opened. I thought nothing of it, as it always does this. In the four years they've lived there, I've never known them to set their alarm, 'cept maybe when they went to bed at night. They had given me their alarm code probably 3 years ago, but I've never had call to use it, 'cause as I said, they never set it.
After the little chirp greeted me upon entering the house, it then suddenly started a steady, hi-pitched BEEEEEEEP. Oh no!, I just knew what that meant. I panicked! The dog panicked! The dog spun in circles at my feet, while I spun in circles in the entry way, not sure what to do next.
I ran for the alarm pad, but just stood there staring at it. What was the combination?
My brain was scrambling, and I thought I remembered the numbers, so I quickly pushed the buttons, but then I couldn't remember what button to push after the numbers. My panic was mounting. I cursed the alarm, I cursed the neighbors, I cursed the burglars that had brought on this need for extra security.
I grabbed their cordless phone from the kitchen so I could call them, but then remembered, "Stupid!, you can't call them. You're already in their house, and they aren't home!"
Damn!
What were their cell numbers? I couldn't remember.
By now, my 60 seconds to disarm the alarm was up, and the house siren was going off. Ohhh, it was sooo very loud! I just knew the police were going to show up any second, guns drawn. The dog continued to freak out, spinning in circles, nearly tripping me as I tried to go out the front door. I ran for my house to get my cell phone, so I could call M or J on their cell. Oh please, please let them answer!
Luck was with me for a change and M answered right away. I told him what was going on and he laughed. Oops, guess they forgot to mention that to me at dinner.
I opened the door to go back inside their house, the dog ran out. Do I go after the dog? or stay and deal with the alarm?
I noticed my husband coming across the street to find out what all the ruckus was about. I gave him the directive to not let the dog run away and I ran for the alarm pad. M told me what buttons to push, but in my panic, I wasn't hitting them correctly. After messing up a time or two, I finally got it quieted.
Ahhh, silence is indeed golden!
Now M informed me that the alarm company would probably be calling the house to confirm I wasn't a burglar. Great! Okay, so what was the "secret" word? M couldn't remember. Even better!
I could see it all now, the headlines would read: "Neighbor apprehended in string of burglaries, film at 11".
Fortunately, the alarm company didn't call, and the police never showed. Well, fortunately for me. I don't know if that's a good thing for M&J, that their alarm company didn't call to check on them.

Speak no evil...

As she's deaf, Olivia already lives by the creed: "Hear no evil"
And as she doesn't see very well, I suppose you could say she also lives by the creed: "See no evil".
I suppose this morning, she decided to step it up a notch to "Speak no evil", when she ate a tube of photo-glue that I'd left lying on my desk. I can only assume she was trying to seal her lips shut.

No more bird watching

Well, so much for blogging about the progress of my birds nest development.
I went to peek in on my little family friday evening, to see if any had hatched yet, only to discover, much to my horror, that something (presumably the neighbors cat) had crushed, not only the eggs, but the nest as well. It was a wadded up mass of straw, egg shell, and dried, bloody yoke.
As we were preparing to go out to dinner, I put off the task of cleaning up the ruined nest until Saturday morning.
When I was able to detangle the nest from the tree branch, I discovered that 2 of the eggs were still in tact. However, since it was obvious the mother had abandon the nest... I mean honestly!, how could she have incubated that mess?, I went on and crushed the other two and disposed of it all. The two remaining eggs were practically welded together from the dried yoke of the other two eggs. What a mess!!
I know I didn't particularly want the nest there in the first place, but I didn't want it to meet it's end in the way that it did. I've got several issues with my neighbors cats, and if I ever get my hands on them.....!!

Hate when that happens!

I had to make a run to the Wally-world here in LaGrange this afternoon, to purchase clothing for a deceased inmate. Just one more perk of being a felon... you get to be buried at the state's expense (if your family doesn't claim you), and you get a new set of clothing, compliments of the funeral home.
Anyway... as I was leaving Wal-mart, waiting to turn onto Hwy 53, I saw there was a little fender-bender up ahead. One can only guess what actually transpired, but this is how I envision it unfolding:

Miss Taurus: the light is changing, I'd better floor it if I'm going to make this light.
Mr. Jaguar: yak-yak-yak, blah-blah-blah (talking into his cellphone)
Miss Taurus: Whew!, I just made it. Must come to a quick halt, so I don't rear end the traffic that's stopped in front of me.
Mr. Jaguar: yak-yak-yak, BLAM!

As I said, I don't really know what happened, other than it was obvious that the man driving the Jag rear-ended the woman in the taurus.
But I wouldn't be surprised if a cell phone was involved, somewhere, somehow.

Bird watching

I'll let y'all in on what is probably a little known fact about me: I'm afraid of birds.
Oh, I can admire them, their colors, their songs, even their graceful flight, but that's where it ends. I've even been known to hang out birdfeeders and watch them jockeying for position at the feeder, but I always watch from a safe distance, or with a window between us.
Why my fear? I've had too many of them swoop down on me, frightening me nigh to death, and I've developed a fear of having my eyes either pecked out or clawed out.
Perhaps it's an unfounded fear, but hey, we all have our phobias.
All that having been said...
I discovered tuesday, as I scooted along my front porch on the way to change the banner on our flag pole, that a small bird had taken up residence in my festivus tree. I discovered it when it flew out of the tree, right past my head, missing me by inches, and nearly causing me to wet myself.
I had just changed the decorations on the tree about 2 weeks ago, to the red/white/blue theme in time for Memorial day, so this was obviously a new resident.
Once my heart returned to sub-normal beating, I inched (cautiously) around the tree, looking for a nest. I was determined to rip it out and send the bird packing. Over the past couple of years, since the Festivus tree's inception, I've found the makings of nests on numerous occasions, sometimes in the early stages, sometimes nearly completed condominium complexes. They all were dismantled.
This time I found a small nest, balancing precariously on a branch. In it's middle were six eggs. Three solid color, three brown-speckled... see the picture.
I wonder if the speckles determines the sex of the baby bird?
I was now faced with a delimna... tear out the nest, and undoubtedly snuff out the life of the six little eggs, but save my tree from a certain mess? Or leave it be and allow them their chance at life, and end up with a filthy Festivus tree? I grumbled about it, asked my friend's advice, and decided to leave the nest alone.
I don't know what kind of bird(s) is nesting in my tree, but I plan on keeping an eye on the little family and photographing it's progress... assuming I can work up enough nerve tocontinue to get close to it. I'm guessing it's some kind of finch or sparrow, I admit, I don't know one from the other. I'll keep everyone posted on the progress of my new "children".

Howie's ordeal

For over 9 years now, I've been carrying my house/car keys on the same keyring. Hanging from my keyring was a small, beanie-baby-type animal named Howie. Howie was (is) a hippo.
Solid gray he is. When I bought Howie (that was the name he came with) I took a black marker and colored spots on him, roughly in the same area that Smokey had some of his larger patches. When the spots would fade, I'd color them in again. Howie has made it easy for me to find my keys in my purse, on the table, in a pocket, wherever, simply because that gray animal seemed to stand out (either by sight or feel) from everything else that was lying around the keys.
After the loss of Smokey, I stopped re-coloring the spots on Howie, but continued to carry him. Eventually his spots faded, and he is now again, just a solid gray hippo.
I came out of the bedroom this morning to find Howie lying in the middle of the living room floor, face up, all four legs splayed out to the side. My eyes 'bout popped out of my head. Oh no!, where were the keys that should be attached to him?? I just knew I'd be late for work. I ran to Howie to see how severly he was hurt. Would he need to be sent to that "toy cemetery" at the landfill? No, I think a little time and tlc will revive Howie. After inspecting his wounds, which consisted of a gash in the back of his neck, and threatened to spill his guts of styrafoam beans, I decided Howie could be patched up, good as new. A little needle and thread should do the trick. But not until Howie dried out. As I held him, the dog-slobber was oozing from Howie's coat. Howie needed a bath. I rushed him to the kitchen sink and applied soap and hot water until the ickyness of dog drool was no longer present.
When I left the house for work (found the keys by the way), Howie was propped up in the kitchen window, where he could dry in the sun, and hopefully be out of reach of the kids.
I'm relatively certain I know which of my children did it. I dare say it was a little white girl who was lying in the floor a few feet from Howie, bathing herself and trying to look innocent.

more break-in stuff

As the week has progressed, we keep learning of yet more and more neighbors, both in our neighborhood and the surrounding subdivisions, that were also targets of the recent crime-wave.
The one that saddens me the most: a young couple, just two streets behind us, had their garage door opener stolen from their vehicle. The criminals opened their garage door and entered the house. I don't know if the homeowners were home at the time or not, but...
the criminals let both of their dogs out of the house. One of the dogs ran out onto Chamberlain Lane, was hit by a car and killed.
How horrible is that???
And up until now, I was feeling safe by having our 3 giant dogs in the house.
Their dogs were large, maybe about the size of a German Shepherd. I can't help but wonder if the dogs even tried to defend the home, or just saw an open door and took their chance at taking a "freedom" run.
Now it makes me wonder what our dogs would do?
Will they stay and defend us and our home? Or will they take the opportunity to bolt out the door if it's held open for them?
I can replace anything in the house (or even if I can't), nothing in our home means as much to me as our dogs. I hope I never come home or wake up to find that someone has let them out and that I have lost them. I dare say, that would just about kill me.

Immigration solution

As there's been so much debate in the news of late about the immigration problem from Mexico, I thought I'd offer up my suggestion for a solution.
I think that the U.S.A. should purchase Mexico, and add another star to the American flag. That way, all the residents of Mexico would become legal U.S. citizens automatically, and perhaps they wouldn't be in such a rush to cross the border. There wouldn't be a need, as they would be making at least minimum wage. We'd then build schools down there, and the children would have to learn the English language, hopefully, maybe even better than our current U.S. children do. Nobody would need documentation to drive from Texas to Mexico, we could come and go as we please. Go enjoy those vacation spots, and still be in America. We'd have to build better sanitation and water filtration plants, and hopefully, when we do go on vacation there, we'll be able to drink the water without getting sick.
How's that for a solution?

Flatulence Etiquette

Can someone please tell me what the proper etiquette is for public flatulence? Well, maybe not actually out in public, but in the presence of others?
I was assaulted over the weekend, not once, but twice! I'm not even going to talk about the first episode, I'm willing to let that person slide on their "incident", but the second episode... well!!
Granted, my husband assaults me on pretty much a daily basis. While I don't like it, I've become used to it. Or at least, I've become used to his crude behavior because let's face it, one can never really get used to the smell of vaporized feces.
Anyway... last night, a person I know was standing a couple of feet away from me. We were in a living room, just the two of us, when this person let one rip. I'm like, "oh my God! Excuse you," and I quickly stepped away. That person barely even acknowledged what they had done.
Not two minutes later, we're standing at the kitchen counter, and they did it to me again!!
Now I was getting really irked! I repeated my words from before and said, "Can't you at least say 'excuse me', and step away?"
With that, the offender said, "Oh, excuse me."
"Well it's a little late for that now!!"
I was running out of rooms to escape to that didn't have polluted air.
Arghhh!
Honestly, if you feel a pooter coming on, shouldn't you try to either go to the bathroom, go outside, or at least step away from anyone that is close to you?
And if you truly feel that by stepping away, it's going to make the flatulence noise worse, couldn't you at least ask the other person to step away?
I realize that occasionally, a fart sneaks up on us when we least expect it and just slips out. But gimme a break!!, how hard is it to say, "Excuse me", or "I'm sorry"?????
Mind you, I'm not talking about the sneaky, quiet ones that just slip out. I'm talking about the loud ones that can't help but be heard.

Marley & Me

I read a novel over the weekend, in record time. Once I picked it up, I could hardly put it down.
I highly recommend it to anyone & everyone. With every page I read, I either laughed out loud, cried tears of sorrow, or both!
I had read about 1/3 of the book as of saturday evening, but after returning from a cook-out, I plopped down in the recliner, and there I stayed until 2:40 a.m. on sunday. I was on a roll and couldn't stop. Well that, plus I had Olivia laying on top of me in the recliner, so I literally could not get up. Also, since I was pinned to the chair, I was unable to get up and get a tissue or handkerchief, and was forced to use my nightshirt to blot away the tears and runny nose. Needless to say, I needed a clean shirt before going to bed.
So what is this fabulous book you ask?
It's written by John Grogan, and is titled: "Marley & Me"
Marley is his very large yellow Lab.
You don't have to be a dog-lover to enjoy this book. But since I am one, I fully identified with many of the events that happened in the book.
It's a very clean book, no profanity that I noticed, so it's clean reading for kids too.

3's

When it rains, it pours.
I believe that's how the old saying goes.
It's not been a good week for our family. And as they (whoever "they" are) say, bad things happen in threes, so I keep waiting to see what else is going to happen...