I've bitched about this before and I'm getting ready to bitch about it some more!
I hate HIPPA, I Hate HIPPA, I HATE HIPPA!!!!!!!!!!!!!
This law, which was put into place supposedly to protect us, is nothing but a hindrance!
I'm sorry, but some of the bullshit runaround that these medical office workers give me is utterly ridiculous.
Example: when a patient dies at the hospital and a nurse calls to inform us "Mr. Jones" has died, we ask a lot of questions, among them, the patients soc. sec. number. If the nurse has it, she gives it to us. Yet I called the medical records dept. at the hospital the other day as I couldn't read the funeral directors writing, and there were no family members to call, and medical records proceeds to tell me they can't give out that info because of HIPPA.
I just said, "odd, the nurses give out that info quite willingly", but it didn't sway the medical records girl.
Okay, the real reason I'm on my tangent today is this... I just got a frantic phone call from one of my neighbors, informing me she'd just rushed one of our other neighbors to the hospital. Basically she dropped the woman off at the ER door and left her there. She didn't even know if the patient had taken an overnight bag with her, but felt sure she'd be kept overnight because the woman was in such bad shape.
As we're kind of close to this neighbor (the patient I mean), we have a key to her house, etc., I wondered if she needed me to bring her anything, like a change of clothes or just anything! Could I be of some service to her????
I called the hospital and asked which room she was in. They didn't have her listed as a patient, but if she'd been dropped off at the ER, then she wouldn't be in the system yet, so I was transferred to the ER nurses station.
I asked what room my friend was in and was promptly informed that due to HIPPA, they could not give out that information. They wouldn't even freaking tell me if she was at the hospital.
Now honestly! What harm would they be doing to the patient by telling someone yes or no they were there????
I hate HIPPA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Friday, December 28, 2007
Thursday, December 27, 2007
Signed...
I got a Christmas card in the mail yesterday (the 26th). A day late, but that's okay.
There was no return address on the envelope, but it was postmarked in Louisville, so I knew it didn't come from out-of-town family/friends.
Inside the card was written: Kim & John, loved your card and '07 newsletter! Merry Christmas and a blessed new year. As you can see, I ran out of Christmas stamps!
And that was it. No signature. I've no idea who sent it!!
Obviously it was somebody on our list of friends/family we send to, since they got our card.
I can eliminate certain people because we've already gotten a card from them. And I already asked the one person I thought it might've been, but she says "no".
So I'm stymied!!
If anybody reading this is the guilty party, please 'fess up and help me save my sanity!
There was no return address on the envelope, but it was postmarked in Louisville, so I knew it didn't come from out-of-town family/friends.
Inside the card was written: Kim & John, loved your card and '07 newsletter! Merry Christmas and a blessed new year. As you can see, I ran out of Christmas stamps!
And that was it. No signature. I've no idea who sent it!!
Obviously it was somebody on our list of friends/family we send to, since they got our card.
I can eliminate certain people because we've already gotten a card from them. And I already asked the one person I thought it might've been, but she says "no".
So I'm stymied!!
If anybody reading this is the guilty party, please 'fess up and help me save my sanity!
The Great Wild Animal Debate
With the news headlines talking about the tiger at the San Francisco zoo that killed 1 man and mauled 2 others, there are a lot of debates going on about wild animals being kept in zoos, circuses and as pets. So I thought I'd put my two cents worth in...
#1)For the most part, I absolutely don't think wild animals should be kept as pets. Certainly not exotic animals. However, who among us hasn't found a turtle/tortoise or a frog of some sort in the yard and taken it home for a pet? I'm guilty. Don't forget the wolf spider from last year!
But unless it's a case of salmonella poisoning or some such thing, I don't recall any incidents of a wild turtle or frog going on a rampage and killing anyone. To me, critters along those lines are the exceptions to the rule.
#2)I absolutely don't think animals such as large cats, elephants, monkeys, etc. should be used in circus acts. I'm just as happy watching the acrobats, clowns, and trained dogs and horses. For the most part, those circus animals (the ones we deem to be wild that is) are kept in a cage or small enclosure except for when they're performing or being trained. And you can't tell me that the stunts they perform are things they'd be doing in the wild. When is the last time you saw an elephant in the wild wearing a giant fez on it's head, balance on one foot and be fed peanuts? Or when's the last time you saw a lion in the wild leap through a ring of fire?
#3)As for zoos, well, that's a tough one. For the most part, I'd imagine that most of the animals that are in zoos were born in captivity. So while they are still "wild" per say, they weren't raised in the wild so it's not like they could be turned loose to return to their natural habitat. Where they are at now is where they need to stay. That having been said... I look at some of the enclosures that these animals live in and it makes me very sad. For as long as I can remember from my childhood, the elephants and rhinos at the Louisville Zoo have lived in those rather small areas set aside from them, which are pretty much just dirt and large rocks with a few weeds growing here and there and maybe a tree or two. Again, that's not natural. I feel sorry for these animals and I think the zoo should be ashamed of itself for forcing them to live in such a small area. I don't know how much room the zoo has for expansion, but if there were any way possible, I think these creatures need much more space, with some grassy area and more trees.
And that stupid "pit" that the tigers in! And the faux rock-mountain area the lions are in... I'm sorry, none of it seems real to me.
Okay, I need to get off of this blog, because the more I think about the Louisville Zoo, the angrier I get. I guess I never really gave it much thought before, but now that I have, I think our city's zoo is a disgrace!
#1)For the most part, I absolutely don't think wild animals should be kept as pets. Certainly not exotic animals. However, who among us hasn't found a turtle/tortoise or a frog of some sort in the yard and taken it home for a pet? I'm guilty. Don't forget the wolf spider from last year!
But unless it's a case of salmonella poisoning or some such thing, I don't recall any incidents of a wild turtle or frog going on a rampage and killing anyone. To me, critters along those lines are the exceptions to the rule.
#2)I absolutely don't think animals such as large cats, elephants, monkeys, etc. should be used in circus acts. I'm just as happy watching the acrobats, clowns, and trained dogs and horses. For the most part, those circus animals (the ones we deem to be wild that is) are kept in a cage or small enclosure except for when they're performing or being trained. And you can't tell me that the stunts they perform are things they'd be doing in the wild. When is the last time you saw an elephant in the wild wearing a giant fez on it's head, balance on one foot and be fed peanuts? Or when's the last time you saw a lion in the wild leap through a ring of fire?
#3)As for zoos, well, that's a tough one. For the most part, I'd imagine that most of the animals that are in zoos were born in captivity. So while they are still "wild" per say, they weren't raised in the wild so it's not like they could be turned loose to return to their natural habitat. Where they are at now is where they need to stay. That having been said... I look at some of the enclosures that these animals live in and it makes me very sad. For as long as I can remember from my childhood, the elephants and rhinos at the Louisville Zoo have lived in those rather small areas set aside from them, which are pretty much just dirt and large rocks with a few weeds growing here and there and maybe a tree or two. Again, that's not natural. I feel sorry for these animals and I think the zoo should be ashamed of itself for forcing them to live in such a small area. I don't know how much room the zoo has for expansion, but if there were any way possible, I think these creatures need much more space, with some grassy area and more trees.
And that stupid "pit" that the tigers in! And the faux rock-mountain area the lions are in... I'm sorry, none of it seems real to me.
Okay, I need to get off of this blog, because the more I think about the Louisville Zoo, the angrier I get. I guess I never really gave it much thought before, but now that I have, I think our city's zoo is a disgrace!
Anonymity
I was struck with an idea last night that I think could totally revolutionize the way we go shopping. It could speed up lines and unclog the aisles, reducing our shopping time, our frustration at others chit-chat holding us up, and even reduce embarrassment.
Tell me what you think about this...
Whenever we want to go out shopping, we have to don a mask before entering the store. Everyone has to don one, even the children, although the children would need to have masks that match their parents, just so the parents will be able to keep track of them in the crowd of faceless shoppers.
The purpose behind the mask? Anonymity! How great would it be to go shopping and not run into people you know? You could get in, get out, and not have to stop and chit-chat? Or rather, stand there while your spouse chit-chats with everyone he knows, because he knows literally everyone!! And just think, you won't have to worry about running into someone that looks like a million bucks while you look like you've just rolled out of bed. Or in my case last night, I won't be ashamed by all the junk food in my bascart when I run into one of my doctors. **sigh**
Where do I go to propose my idea?
All those in favor, say "Aye!"
Tell me what you think about this...
Whenever we want to go out shopping, we have to don a mask before entering the store. Everyone has to don one, even the children, although the children would need to have masks that match their parents, just so the parents will be able to keep track of them in the crowd of faceless shoppers.
The purpose behind the mask? Anonymity! How great would it be to go shopping and not run into people you know? You could get in, get out, and not have to stop and chit-chat? Or rather, stand there while your spouse chit-chats with everyone he knows, because he knows literally everyone!! And just think, you won't have to worry about running into someone that looks like a million bucks while you look like you've just rolled out of bed. Or in my case last night, I won't be ashamed by all the junk food in my bascart when I run into one of my doctors. **sigh**
Where do I go to propose my idea?
All those in favor, say "Aye!"
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
Growing family
I debated long and hard about whether or not I should even write this blog. I started just to email my thoughts to a few people, but then decided to heck with it, I'm going to blog it.
I'd just first of all like to say that in no way what-so-ever do I mean to offend anyone. If you or a loved one fall into this category I'm about to blog about, please, please, please! don't take offense. I'm not condemning anyone for their behavior or actions, I'm just musing outloud (so to speak) about the way society is today.
Over the past few days of holiday revelry with many family members, it's been announced that my family tree is growing. Four different relatives (one on my father's side, three on my mother's side) are either expecting the birth of a child in the coming months, just had a child in the past few weeks, or in the case of one relative, just discovered they have a 5 year old child. But from what I gather, nobody knew about this child 'til earlier this year.
None of these new parents or parents-to-be are married (that I'm aware of).
They aren't the first of my kinfolk to have a child out of wedlock, and I'm sure they won't be the last. And certainly children born to unwed parents isn't anything new. It's been happening for centuries.
But gosh, it just seems that more and more it's becoming the "norm" instead of the "exception".
Is it carelessness? Is it deception on one person's part without their partner's knowledge? Or is birth-control just that unreliable?
And whatever happened to marriage? Marriage almost seems to be a thing of the past.
I LOVE marriage! Oh sure, we have our ups and downs, and I grumble and nag a lot. But that's what works for us. I wouldn't have it any other way (well okay, I might change a few things, but over all, this is what I want!!).
Are young people today afraid of making the marriage commitment? Either because they come from divorced parents and they don't want to go down that same path? Or is it laziness and they don't want to work at making a successful marriage (because marriage does take work)?
Am I even making any sense, or just rattling???
I wish them all well. And if they're happy, I'm happy for them.
But honestly folks, don't give up on marriage without even having tried it.
I'd just first of all like to say that in no way what-so-ever do I mean to offend anyone. If you or a loved one fall into this category I'm about to blog about, please, please, please! don't take offense. I'm not condemning anyone for their behavior or actions, I'm just musing outloud (so to speak) about the way society is today.
Over the past few days of holiday revelry with many family members, it's been announced that my family tree is growing. Four different relatives (one on my father's side, three on my mother's side) are either expecting the birth of a child in the coming months, just had a child in the past few weeks, or in the case of one relative, just discovered they have a 5 year old child. But from what I gather, nobody knew about this child 'til earlier this year.
None of these new parents or parents-to-be are married (that I'm aware of).
They aren't the first of my kinfolk to have a child out of wedlock, and I'm sure they won't be the last. And certainly children born to unwed parents isn't anything new. It's been happening for centuries.
But gosh, it just seems that more and more it's becoming the "norm" instead of the "exception".
Is it carelessness? Is it deception on one person's part without their partner's knowledge? Or is birth-control just that unreliable?
And whatever happened to marriage? Marriage almost seems to be a thing of the past.
I LOVE marriage! Oh sure, we have our ups and downs, and I grumble and nag a lot. But that's what works for us. I wouldn't have it any other way (well okay, I might change a few things, but over all, this is what I want!!).
Are young people today afraid of making the marriage commitment? Either because they come from divorced parents and they don't want to go down that same path? Or is it laziness and they don't want to work at making a successful marriage (because marriage does take work)?
Am I even making any sense, or just rattling???
I wish them all well. And if they're happy, I'm happy for them.
But honestly folks, don't give up on marriage without even having tried it.
Stocking up
Ah, it's the day after Christmas. Time to go shopping and stock-up on a few things that the stores have marked way-down for clearance.
This is the time I load up on wrapping paper, trying to find as plain or non-Christmassy or non-wintery as possible, so that I can use it for other occasions, such as birthdays, weddings, etc. I also load up on bags of bows and curling ribbon, tape, gift boxes and tissue paper too. Every year or two I do this, and yet I never can seem to find the ribbon when I need it and the bows are always crushed out of shape when I need them.
This year I made quite a find. I'm a fat pen freak. I love fat pens. I hate writing with normal size ink pens, as they cause my hands/fingers to ache. Fat pens, if you've ever purchased them, can be quite expensive (at least, in comparison to skinny pens).
I found a bunch of Christmas-themed pens that are rather chubby in diameter, 50% off bringing them down to .75cents. The cool thing about these is that they light up when you write with them, they have a wand and soapy stuff in the middle so you can blow bubbles if bored at work, and the top comes off and has an inked stamp underneath. How cool is all that??? (This is my inner-child speaking!)
I also found some truly jumbo sized fat pens, also .75cents. They don't have the other cool features, but they really are tall and fat. They'd be hard to misplace.
I think I bought enough to last me until the next sale on December 26, 2008.
This is the time I load up on wrapping paper, trying to find as plain or non-Christmassy or non-wintery as possible, so that I can use it for other occasions, such as birthdays, weddings, etc. I also load up on bags of bows and curling ribbon, tape, gift boxes and tissue paper too. Every year or two I do this, and yet I never can seem to find the ribbon when I need it and the bows are always crushed out of shape when I need them.
This year I made quite a find. I'm a fat pen freak. I love fat pens. I hate writing with normal size ink pens, as they cause my hands/fingers to ache. Fat pens, if you've ever purchased them, can be quite expensive (at least, in comparison to skinny pens).
I found a bunch of Christmas-themed pens that are rather chubby in diameter, 50% off bringing them down to .75cents. The cool thing about these is that they light up when you write with them, they have a wand and soapy stuff in the middle so you can blow bubbles if bored at work, and the top comes off and has an inked stamp underneath. How cool is all that??? (This is my inner-child speaking!)
I also found some truly jumbo sized fat pens, also .75cents. They don't have the other cool features, but they really are tall and fat. They'd be hard to misplace.
I think I bought enough to last me until the next sale on December 26, 2008.
Party-crashers
John & I crashed a party on Christmas Eve. We weren't invited, at least, not by the ones hosting the party, but my mother made mention that they were going to my cousin's house that day, so we decided we'd go too, invited or not.
It was mostly John's idea. I do believe he wanted to dress up as Kleinie-Claus one last time before the holiday was over. So we packed his suit into the car and went to crash the party. I was glad we went. It was good seeing the Kelsey side of the family. Some of them I see only about once a year at the annual family reunion in Glasgow. Some I see even less. Or, like the cousin that was hosting, I see her a little more often when I bump into her at the grocery or at Kohls.
One of my 2nd-cousins was there with her twin toddlers. They're now 19 months old, and aside from emailed pictures, I hadn't seen them in person since they were a couple of days old. One cousin was visiting from Florida, another from Tennessee, so they fall under the category of rarely seen relatives. John got to dress up and I got almost everybody's photo taken with "Santa". I hope to have those downloaded sometime this week (must remember to bring the camera with me to work).
Okay, so while we were there, I learned of a new use for old appliances. Initially, I know this is going to sound very red-neck. But honestly, you have to know my family, and the situation at hand to appreciate what I'm about to tell you.
The hostess, who I'll refer to as Connie (because of her resemblance to Connie Stevens), had the food and snacks spread out around the kitchen. A platter of ham was set out, but I saw no bread or buns anywhere in sight. I stood there in front of the dishwasher, looking all around and I finally had to ask, "is there any bread?"
I was informed it was in the "liquor cabinet".
Okay, seemed like a strange place to keep the bread, but I didn't question it. I looked around for a liquor cabinet but didn't see one. I finally asked, "where's the liquor cabinet?"
I was then informed that I was standing in front of it.
Huh?
It's in the dishwasher.
When Connie had new tile installed in her kitchen, it raised the dishwasher up just enough that it doesn't work properly, so she uses her now useless dishwasher as a liquor cabinet/bread box.
Makes perfect sense to me. (this is where I'm rolling my eyes).
I love you "Connie" and all your quirky ways!!
It was mostly John's idea. I do believe he wanted to dress up as Kleinie-Claus one last time before the holiday was over. So we packed his suit into the car and went to crash the party. I was glad we went. It was good seeing the Kelsey side of the family. Some of them I see only about once a year at the annual family reunion in Glasgow. Some I see even less. Or, like the cousin that was hosting, I see her a little more often when I bump into her at the grocery or at Kohls.
One of my 2nd-cousins was there with her twin toddlers. They're now 19 months old, and aside from emailed pictures, I hadn't seen them in person since they were a couple of days old. One cousin was visiting from Florida, another from Tennessee, so they fall under the category of rarely seen relatives. John got to dress up and I got almost everybody's photo taken with "Santa". I hope to have those downloaded sometime this week (must remember to bring the camera with me to work).
Okay, so while we were there, I learned of a new use for old appliances. Initially, I know this is going to sound very red-neck. But honestly, you have to know my family, and the situation at hand to appreciate what I'm about to tell you.
The hostess, who I'll refer to as Connie (because of her resemblance to Connie Stevens), had the food and snacks spread out around the kitchen. A platter of ham was set out, but I saw no bread or buns anywhere in sight. I stood there in front of the dishwasher, looking all around and I finally had to ask, "is there any bread?"
I was informed it was in the "liquor cabinet".
Okay, seemed like a strange place to keep the bread, but I didn't question it. I looked around for a liquor cabinet but didn't see one. I finally asked, "where's the liquor cabinet?"
I was then informed that I was standing in front of it.
Huh?
It's in the dishwasher.
When Connie had new tile installed in her kitchen, it raised the dishwasher up just enough that it doesn't work properly, so she uses her now useless dishwasher as a liquor cabinet/bread box.
Makes perfect sense to me. (this is where I'm rolling my eyes).
I love you "Connie" and all your quirky ways!!
Another Duh-Moment
Christmas morning, I got up early (why don't I ever get to sleep-in on my day off?) and fixed a big breakfast which the husband and I then hauled (along with a big lunch prepared the night before) over to his dad's. We drove separately. #1) Because I had plans to go to the farm that afternoon & didn't want to leave John stranded, and #2) because it pretty much took both vehicles to haul all the food.
We hit the road just before 8:30, and there was very little traffic. It looked so strange seeing all the businesses closed down with empty parking lots. Except of course for the Waffle House. They were packed.
After breakfast, I headed back home to change into my farm clothes. As I was driving, I was thinking of all the professions/businesses that had to work (and the handful that chose to stay open), regardless of the time of day or what the holiday was... hospitals, police, fire & EMS, zoo and kennel employees, hotels, gas stations/mini-marts, the media (tv, radio and newspaper), movie theaters and video rental shops, many truck drivers, utility workers, etc. etc.
As I sat at the red light at the intersection of Bunsen Way & Hurstbourne Ln., I noticed a business off to my right that had oodles and oodles of cars parked on it's lot. I thought to myself, "gosh, they're really busy today. What is that place?" I leaned forward in my seat to get a better look at the building and the sign out front and realized, "DUH, it was a car lot."
**sigh**
I think my psyche is confusing my many incoming gray hairs as blonde ones and therefore causing me to have many of these DUH moments of late.
We hit the road just before 8:30, and there was very little traffic. It looked so strange seeing all the businesses closed down with empty parking lots. Except of course for the Waffle House. They were packed.
After breakfast, I headed back home to change into my farm clothes. As I was driving, I was thinking of all the professions/businesses that had to work (and the handful that chose to stay open), regardless of the time of day or what the holiday was... hospitals, police, fire & EMS, zoo and kennel employees, hotels, gas stations/mini-marts, the media (tv, radio and newspaper), movie theaters and video rental shops, many truck drivers, utility workers, etc. etc.
As I sat at the red light at the intersection of Bunsen Way & Hurstbourne Ln., I noticed a business off to my right that had oodles and oodles of cars parked on it's lot. I thought to myself, "gosh, they're really busy today. What is that place?" I leaned forward in my seat to get a better look at the building and the sign out front and realized, "DUH, it was a car lot."
**sigh**
I think my psyche is confusing my many incoming gray hairs as blonde ones and therefore causing me to have many of these DUH moments of late.
Monday, December 24, 2007
In the Navy
I fell asleep last night with "Officer & A Gentleman" playing (and set to repeat-play) on my portable dvd player. I guess the story-line crept into my dreams, because I dreamt I had joined the Navy and Lou Gossett Jr. was my drill sergeant. It was a miserable experience.
When it came to the moment during basic training that I was to get my hair cut short, I panicked and tried explaining to them that I needed to leave it long so I could get it shaved for St. Baldricks. Lou wasn't too happy to hear excuses, and had the barber mangle my haircut. : (
I felt rather picked on, much like Segar(sp?) was in the movie. And just like Segar, I have absolutely no upper-body strength and struggled to accomplish even one push-up or chin-up.
Fortunately the alarm clock went off and woke me up before I had a chance to "D.O.R.", so my career as a Naval Aviator was cut short.
When it came to the moment during basic training that I was to get my hair cut short, I panicked and tried explaining to them that I needed to leave it long so I could get it shaved for St. Baldricks. Lou wasn't too happy to hear excuses, and had the barber mangle my haircut. : (
I felt rather picked on, much like Segar(sp?) was in the movie. And just like Segar, I have absolutely no upper-body strength and struggled to accomplish even one push-up or chin-up.
Fortunately the alarm clock went off and woke me up before I had a chance to "D.O.R.", so my career as a Naval Aviator was cut short.
Friday, December 21, 2007
Super Sonic letdown
I had a few minutes to spare this morning, so before going to the office, I stopped at the Wallyworld in LaGrange. As I headed down Moody Ln. and waited to turn into the parking lot, I saw what appeared to be a new business up ahead on the right. From my vantage point, it looked like a carwash. Just what this town needed, another carwash.
Wallyworld was out of the diet Big Red I had gone to purchase (it seems to be harder and harder to come by these days... I'll be devastated if they stop carrying it or if RC cola stops making it), so I left the store empty handed. As I was driving through the parking lot, I glanced over towards what I thought was the new carwash and saw that instead, it was a new Sonic Drive-In. Ooh, I felt a small shiver go through me! I just love Sonic's popcorn chicken. But apparently, so does everybody else.
I knew where I would be going for lunch today. I don't know when the new Sonic had opened, or for that matter why the old Sonic had closed down about 5 or 6 years before, but either way, I was excited.
As lunchtime approached, the boss asked where I was going for lunch. I told him. I also told him how fabulous their sodas were, simply because of the kind of ice they use. Yes, ice does make a difference on how a softdrink tastes. Call me crazy, but it's true.
I headed off to Sonic, got in the drive-thru, placed my order and was promptly informed that they were out of popcorn chicken.
How does a restaurant run out of such a thing?
My little heart skipped a beat. I pouted my lip and said "Never mind then!" and got out of line. I ended up at McD's instead. What a let down though after having my heart set on Sonic.
When I walked back into the office carrying a McD's bag, I told the boss, "you see what I have, that should tell you I'm not very happy right now." He asked what happened, I told him. "See, I guess I'm not the only one that thinks their popcorn chicken is the best." He asked why I didn't get a soda while I was there. My answer: If they can't provide the food I want, then I don't think they deserve my business on the rest of my meal-order.
Hopefully they'll be restocked when I return to LaGrange next week.
Wallyworld was out of the diet Big Red I had gone to purchase (it seems to be harder and harder to come by these days... I'll be devastated if they stop carrying it or if RC cola stops making it), so I left the store empty handed. As I was driving through the parking lot, I glanced over towards what I thought was the new carwash and saw that instead, it was a new Sonic Drive-In. Ooh, I felt a small shiver go through me! I just love Sonic's popcorn chicken. But apparently, so does everybody else.
I knew where I would be going for lunch today. I don't know when the new Sonic had opened, or for that matter why the old Sonic had closed down about 5 or 6 years before, but either way, I was excited.
As lunchtime approached, the boss asked where I was going for lunch. I told him. I also told him how fabulous their sodas were, simply because of the kind of ice they use. Yes, ice does make a difference on how a softdrink tastes. Call me crazy, but it's true.
I headed off to Sonic, got in the drive-thru, placed my order and was promptly informed that they were out of popcorn chicken.
How does a restaurant run out of such a thing?
My little heart skipped a beat. I pouted my lip and said "Never mind then!" and got out of line. I ended up at McD's instead. What a let down though after having my heart set on Sonic.
When I walked back into the office carrying a McD's bag, I told the boss, "you see what I have, that should tell you I'm not very happy right now." He asked what happened, I told him. "See, I guess I'm not the only one that thinks their popcorn chicken is the best." He asked why I didn't get a soda while I was there. My answer: If they can't provide the food I want, then I don't think they deserve my business on the rest of my meal-order.
Hopefully they'll be restocked when I return to LaGrange next week.
Duh-moment
I had a bit of a "duh" moment yesterday.
I was waiting to check-out at the doctors office and waiting for the girl to make another appointment for me, so while she was on hold on the phone, I had time to stand there and look at all the photos that covered the walls. They were all photos of babies that (I presume) had been delivered by one of the doctors that worked at that practice. For all the years I've been going there, I've only ever seen (or been seen) by one doctor, so I had no idea what any of the other doctors looked like.
The many photos were either of the baby(ies) right after being born, some on their first birthdays or at their first Christmas and some were with the new mommies/daddies. I noticed one proud father holding his newborn child. I looked at some more pictures on another bulletin board and again saw that same father. Then there he was again, and again.
I thought to myself, "my goodness, this man has a lot of children."
Then the "DUH" hit me... he was the doctor that had delivered those babies.
I was waiting to check-out at the doctors office and waiting for the girl to make another appointment for me, so while she was on hold on the phone, I had time to stand there and look at all the photos that covered the walls. They were all photos of babies that (I presume) had been delivered by one of the doctors that worked at that practice. For all the years I've been going there, I've only ever seen (or been seen) by one doctor, so I had no idea what any of the other doctors looked like.
The many photos were either of the baby(ies) right after being born, some on their first birthdays or at their first Christmas and some were with the new mommies/daddies. I noticed one proud father holding his newborn child. I looked at some more pictures on another bulletin board and again saw that same father. Then there he was again, and again.
I thought to myself, "my goodness, this man has a lot of children."
Then the "DUH" hit me... he was the doctor that had delivered those babies.
found money
I got an email from a friend the other day, telling me she'd found my name on a list of unclaimed money. I went and checked it out, and sure enough, there I was.
I wasted no time downloading the claim form, filling it out and sending it off to Frankfort.
Of course, the site doesn't tell you how much money is unclaimed, so I figure with my luck it will be less than .41 cents (the price of a postage stamp).
On the other hand, maybe it'll be a nice payout that will solve some of our worries.
Hey, I can dream big for a few days can't I?
Do I have to pay taxes on that??
I wasted no time downloading the claim form, filling it out and sending it off to Frankfort.
Of course, the site doesn't tell you how much money is unclaimed, so I figure with my luck it will be less than .41 cents (the price of a postage stamp).
On the other hand, maybe it'll be a nice payout that will solve some of our worries.
Hey, I can dream big for a few days can't I?
Do I have to pay taxes on that??
Wednesday, December 19, 2007
Bah-Humbug
'Twas the night before tomorrow, that would make it today,
when we heard the news of what Santa could no longer say.
"Ho-Ho-Ho" is now a thing of the past,
'cause some politically correct jerk was being an ass.
It might offend someone, and that risk we can't take,
we must watch what we say, for goodness sake.
Heaven forbid if people took things in stride.
Like water off a duck's back, just let it slide.
Why ruin our good times and be a killjoy?
You're taking away the joy from the girls and boys.
It saddens me to think in the generations to come,
that holidays will no longer be as much fun.
While some change is good, this change makes me sad,
when I think of the good times that will never be had.
I expect in the future the children will be,
forced to stand by Santa, instead of sitting on his knee,
Because why take the chance that he might be a molester,
that's simply a risk that we can't let fester.
And what about the fat man, and the bad example he sets?
He needs to slim down, he needs to get fit!
To the politically correct I have but one thing to say:
"Get a life and go away!!"
To everyone else who won't take offense:
"Ho-Ho-Ho and Merry Christmas!"
when we heard the news of what Santa could no longer say.
"Ho-Ho-Ho" is now a thing of the past,
'cause some politically correct jerk was being an ass.
It might offend someone, and that risk we can't take,
we must watch what we say, for goodness sake.
Heaven forbid if people took things in stride.
Like water off a duck's back, just let it slide.
Why ruin our good times and be a killjoy?
You're taking away the joy from the girls and boys.
It saddens me to think in the generations to come,
that holidays will no longer be as much fun.
While some change is good, this change makes me sad,
when I think of the good times that will never be had.
I expect in the future the children will be,
forced to stand by Santa, instead of sitting on his knee,
Because why take the chance that he might be a molester,
that's simply a risk that we can't let fester.
And what about the fat man, and the bad example he sets?
He needs to slim down, he needs to get fit!
To the politically correct I have but one thing to say:
"Get a life and go away!!"
To everyone else who won't take offense:
"Ho-Ho-Ho and Merry Christmas!"
****
Oops, I put several asterik after the word girlfriend in my previous blog, as I meant to include a footnote, then completely forgot.
So, here's my "ps" to the last blog...
****Why is it okay, or shall I say "socially acceptable" for girls/women to refer to themselves and each other as "girlfriends", and noboldy gives it a second thought.
Yet, we don't hear men referring to each other as "boyfriends", unless there's an entirely different kind of relationship going on there.
I remember asking this question of my mother way back when I was about 5 years old, and of course didn't really get much of an answer other than: that's just the way it is.
So can somebody tell me WHY???
So, here's my "ps" to the last blog...
****Why is it okay, or shall I say "socially acceptable" for girls/women to refer to themselves and each other as "girlfriends", and noboldy gives it a second thought.
Yet, we don't hear men referring to each other as "boyfriends", unless there's an entirely different kind of relationship going on there.
I remember asking this question of my mother way back when I was about 5 years old, and of course didn't really get much of an answer other than: that's just the way it is.
So can somebody tell me WHY???
Taking the day off
I've got the day off from work tomorrow. 1/2 a sick day (for a doctor's appt.), 1/2 a vacation day. I was talking to one of my girlfriend's*** on the phone last evening when I was struck with the thought and put it to her: Are you working Thursday, and if not, do you want to have lunch?
As it turns out, she wasn't working, but she had something very important going on that morning... that was the day they closed the sale on their new house. How exciting (for her that is). Actually, I'm excited for her, as it's just a dreamy place. It has many of the features I desperately want in my dream home... granite counters in the kitchen, a center island, double ovens, 5-burner stove, lots and lots of counter space and cabinets, a huge front porch with a swing, a two-headed walk-in shower in the master bathroom and garden whirlpool tub, hardwood floors, not the laminate stuff, but real hardwood! Just lots and lots of nice amenities. Granted, I wouldn't want a two-story house, because my knees just can't handle all the climbing (all the steps at work have become very difficult for me), and granted, I'd want the house out in the country someplace where I had some elbow room, but honestly, this house has absolutely everything they could ever want!!
I already had the grand tour a few weeks ago when their offer had been accepted but our other girlfriends have just been itching to see it for themselves.
So now that she'll be taking possession of it tomorrow morning, we're doing lunch to celebrate and going to see the house again. I called one of our other best-buds that's a stay-at-home mom and asked her to join us. But she already had lunch plans with one of her former co-workers. I then set about corrupting her to play hooky or change her plans and come have fun with us. I could tell she was bummed that she'd miss out.
But I guess she couldn't resist... she called me a few minutes ago to tell me she'd changed her luncheon plans and would now be joining us.
"J", am I a bad influence on you or what???
As it turns out, she wasn't working, but she had something very important going on that morning... that was the day they closed the sale on their new house. How exciting (for her that is). Actually, I'm excited for her, as it's just a dreamy place. It has many of the features I desperately want in my dream home... granite counters in the kitchen, a center island, double ovens, 5-burner stove, lots and lots of counter space and cabinets, a huge front porch with a swing, a two-headed walk-in shower in the master bathroom and garden whirlpool tub, hardwood floors, not the laminate stuff, but real hardwood! Just lots and lots of nice amenities. Granted, I wouldn't want a two-story house, because my knees just can't handle all the climbing (all the steps at work have become very difficult for me), and granted, I'd want the house out in the country someplace where I had some elbow room, but honestly, this house has absolutely everything they could ever want!!
I already had the grand tour a few weeks ago when their offer had been accepted but our other girlfriends have just been itching to see it for themselves.
So now that she'll be taking possession of it tomorrow morning, we're doing lunch to celebrate and going to see the house again. I called one of our other best-buds that's a stay-at-home mom and asked her to join us. But she already had lunch plans with one of her former co-workers. I then set about corrupting her to play hooky or change her plans and come have fun with us. I could tell she was bummed that she'd miss out.
But I guess she couldn't resist... she called me a few minutes ago to tell me she'd changed her luncheon plans and would now be joining us.
"J", am I a bad influence on you or what???
Tuesday, December 18, 2007
The check's in the mail...
Every so often on the news, they'll tell a story about some piece of mail that mysteriously shows up a post office to be delivered, and it's post-marked decades previously. I just love these stories. Nobody seems to know where these letters and post-cards have been hiding or lying in wait of delivery over the years, but now that 75 years or more have passed, they make tremendous efforts to ensure that they get delivered, even if it means tracking down the grandchild of the intended recipient (because the intended is no longer living).
There was yet another of these stories in the news today, http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20071215/ap_on_fe_st/odd_long_lost_card
Finally it was delivered after 93 years.
So I ask you, why is it the post office can track down a relative 93 years after the fact, but they can't get my payment to the bank delivered across town within 5 days?
I just know that somewhere out there in some corner of some post office somewhere on this planet, is a stack of mail I've sent out to friends, family, bill collectors... perhaps one of our great-great-nieces or great-great-nephews will one day, about 100 years from now get the mail returned to them. Or perhaps the great-grandchildren of said family/friends will finally receive the items I mailed out.
I still wonder why I keep getting mail in our mailbox for the lady that lives two houses behind me though?
There was yet another of these stories in the news today, http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20071215/ap_on_fe_st/odd_long_lost_card
Finally it was delivered after 93 years.
So I ask you, why is it the post office can track down a relative 93 years after the fact, but they can't get my payment to the bank delivered across town within 5 days?
I just know that somewhere out there in some corner of some post office somewhere on this planet, is a stack of mail I've sent out to friends, family, bill collectors... perhaps one of our great-great-nieces or great-great-nephews will one day, about 100 years from now get the mail returned to them. Or perhaps the great-grandchildren of said family/friends will finally receive the items I mailed out.
I still wonder why I keep getting mail in our mailbox for the lady that lives two houses behind me though?
Monday, December 17, 2007
I'd like some cheese please...
I'd like some cheese to go along with all the whining I'm about to do. That's my fair-warning to all of my readers that you may as well just skip right over this blog, because I'm getting ready to do a lot of whining about "poor me". And I know nobody wants to hear it, 'specially at this time of year when things should be so joyful and merry, blah, blah, blah. But since my blog is somewhat of an on-line diary (open to the public), I have to blog my whiny moments so I can look back on them one of these days when things really get bad and say to myself, "what was I complaining about?"
So...
I need to recap some of the crap that's happened in the past month and add to that list everything that's happened over the past few days...
*In the past month, we've discovered our much-beloved dog has some kind of seizure disorder... epilepsy? Maybe, we're not 100% sure as yet, but it still keeps us wondering if she's going to keel over into a fit of convulsions at any moment or what we're going to find every time we get up in the morning or arrive home from work.
*In the past 3 weeks the husband has been to the dentist's office 3 times. Initially just for a check-up and cleaning, but it was discovered while he was there that he'd broken a sizable piece of a tooth off and needed to have a crown put on. That required two more visits and a sizable dental bill because insurance doesn't pay but about 50% of crowns.
*In the past 10 days we've discovered that our roof leaks and needs to be repaired.
*In the past 5 days the husband had his d.o.t. physical and was informed he has high blood pressure. If he doesn't get it under control, he could lose his eligibility to drive a company vehicle (which face it, that's his job, his livelihood!!). So I got him an appointment to go see my pcp today (as he didn't have one) and we'll go from there. Don't know if she'll put him on bp medicine or what. I'm having anxiety over what that's going to set us back if he has to start taking those meds on a daily basis. Of course I told him if we'd both lose some weight, that would help immensely, but since he never wants to eat properly on the occasions that I have, it's a moot point.
*In the past 48 hours...
Crappy weather hit the area Saturday morning. The husband went to work at his usual time. I had to go into work that morning as well, as we'd been so unbelievable busy. I bundled up in layers, and tossed some more layers into my car as I'd be going to the farm straight from work. It was a sloppy drive into the office, but I drove slowly and made it there without incident. When I left work at 12, it was pointless to drive all the way home, then leave 10 minutes later to go the farm, so I drove straight to Shelbyville from LaGrange. It's about 15 miles from where I work (vs. 25 miles from home). However, I would be driving a route I'd never traveled before, in horrendous driving conditions, on some windy country roads that in all likelihood never see a plow/salt truck. I white-knuckled the steering wheel and managed to make it to the farm without incident.
It was sooo very cold out and the snow/ice that had fallen earlier had turned to slush in the pouring rain. My heart was breaking for the horses out in the pasture. I know, I know, this is what they're used to, but it still made my heart ache. I donned two more layers of clothing and walked about the stables looking like a blue stay-puff marshmallow man. I stayed a bit too warm, as I was sweating something awful, when I did finally take the coveralls and coat off, my jeans & t-shirt were wet with sweat and the 28degree weather only felt too good! Gee, I hope I don't catch pneumonia.
The morning shift was getting ready to leave when I arrived, and gave me a quick run-down on what was happening. A couple of horses had been brought in, one because she'd been shivering fiercely and the other mare just to keep her company. However, neither one liked being separated from the other girls, especially Ida B., who proceeded to throw a fit in her stall. Pacing fiercely, kicking and bucking like a rodeo bronc, I feared for her safety and for ours as well. For reasons I'll never understand, instead of putting them in their proper stalls, the volunteers had put these two girls in the wrong stalls. That meant the afternoon crew had the now dangerous job of moving them to the other end of the stables, otherwise, we'd be unable to bring the boys in and put them where they belonged. I was only too happy to let the other, more experienced women have the job of moving the girls. Now for the sloppy chore of bringing in the boys. The pouring rain had turned the normally muddy conditions near the gates into a quagmire. Our feet were sinking deeply into the mud and I wondered if our boots were going to stick in the mud and our feet come out bare with each step we took. It was precarious to say the least and the anxious horses were only too happy to come inside. There was no need to urge them to keep moving today. It saddened me that 5 of the 20 had to remain out in the nasty weather. I had to leave early that day as I needed to get home and get cleaned up for my husband's company's Christmas party. I left with a heavy heart and hoped those that had to remain outside in the elements would be okay.
The drive home was uneventful. I arrived right at 4pm, which was when the party was starting. I hurried inside to get cleaned up and changed. Neither of us had any money on us so we knew we'd have to stop at an ATM. We needed some cash, if for no other reason than to pay for parking at the Galt House. We walked out of the house at about 4:55 and got into my car. I went to start it and nothing happened. Nothing, nadda! The engine didn't even make that clicking noise they usually make when a battery is going dead. Crap!! As we were already running late, we didn't take the time to call AAA or even a neighbor to give us a jump-start, instead pushing the car out into the street and parking it in front of the neighbor's house. We dashed for the husband's car and got in (me driving of course). But wait... he thought perhaps we should use his car keys instead of mine because the battery in my keyless entry thingy was getting low on juice and when that happens, at random times the alarm will start going off when you try to lock/unlock the car and create a racket, and the only way to stop it is to drive around in a car that's blaring it's alarm, looking like a car thief and just wait for the alarm to stop blaring. Okay, fine, so now I had to go back into the house to find his keys, which of course weren't where he claimed he'd left them, and of course get the dogs all riled up with my presence. Once we'd found his keys and headed back out to his car he asked me if I just wanted to stay home and skip the party. Why? I asked. He said he just felt it was an omen, my car not starting, that perhaps we should stay home. Oh get in the car, let's go, we're late.
We made it to the ATM, got out $40 and hit the road. We'd gotten no more than 1 mile down I-71 when traffic suddenly came to a stand-still. It rolled along at about 5 miles an hour or less for the next 20 minutes. I think we finally arrived at the Galt House around 5:45ish. We joined the party, fortunately they kept the buffet line open 'til 7pm, so we didn't' miss out on dinner. For reasons I'm not quite sure of, they had us crammed into a small(er) room unlike years past, and because we were in a more cramped space, they had 10 diners to a table, which mean we were crammed in like sardines. Seriously, we were in there so tight, you couldn't even get your chair up to the table properly and had to lean way forward to eat your meal. Because of the awkward position, I developed some horrible muscle cramps in my legs and back. Fortunately, I liked the people we were dining with, so it made the closeness bearable... nothing worse than being crammed in with people you can't stand or don't even know. We left the party at 10:45 and were immediately hit with sticker-shock at the price we were charged for 5 hours of parking... $11.00 Good grief!! What does an all-day charge add up to??
We arrived home, tended to the dogs, changed clothes, and went out to once again attempt starting my car. Still nothing. It was so dead, the power locks wouldn't even work. We had to physically walk around to each door and lock it by hand. And since there was no way to lock the rear hatch, it just had to remain unlocked and we'd hope for the best that nobody broke in. I called AAA. The weatherman was calling for more bad weather on Sunday, so I figured AAA would be busier then, so better to have them come out now. AAA arrived right at midnight and jump-started my car. He advised us to let the car run for at least 20 minutes so that the alternator could charge the battery. We did as advised and moved the car from the street back into the driveway. I turned the car off and nothing happened. The dome light that normally comes on when the key is taken out of the ignition remained dark. I tried to start it back up and nothing. It was dead again. Well, no point in calling AAA back out tonight. John resigned himself to getting up early on Monday (his day off) and driving to the dealership on Dixie Hwy, in PRP. The car is less than 16 months old. The battery shouldn't be crapping out already. Something is either seriously wrong with the car or else we have a defective battery. I just hoped that the darned thing didn't have an electrical problem and suddenly catch fire in the middle of the night.
We both agreed that at least it was a good thing that it had happened while at home and not while I was at the farm, else we'd have totally missed the party.
Sunday, John nursed his hang-over and I finally got our Christmas cards stuffed, addressed, stamped and put in the mailbox.
That brings us up to today.
John got up early, 6am to be exact, got showered, dressed and called AAA. Okay, I called AAA because apparently, much like making his own doctors appointments, he can't do this for himself. AAA arrived at 7am, once again got the car started, and John headed off to the far side of the county. He'd no sooner left than I had a horrible feeling that I should've warned him to be careful when he approached intersections (because he's not used to driving a manual transmission, he had a tendency to kill the engine when taking off). But he was gone, and all I could do was hope he made it to the dealership without incident. He was supposed to call me when he'd arrived so I'd know he made it safely.
9:45 this morning, I still hadn't heard from him. Had he forgotten to call? Was he okay? I couldn't stand it any longer and finally called him. He answered right away and said he'd only just gotten there. What? Why did it take you 2 1/2 hours to make a 40 minute drive.
First off, he'd gotten stuck in traffic which held him up. Then he decided to stop at McD's for breakfast and in doing so, stalled the engine while in the drive-thru and again had to have AAA come jump-start the car. The whole time I'm thinking "dumb ass!!", well, okay, I think I may have actually said this outloud to him. He should've known better than to make an unnecessary stop. He could've waited 'til he got to the dealership, turned the car in, then walked next door for something to eat, assuming they didn't have free donuts at the dealership.
So now I'm waiting for another phone call, hoping against hope that whatever the problem is is something simple, and hopefully something covered under warranty which will mean little or no cost to us, and hopefully he can get out of there in time to make his doctors appointment. Otherwise, who knows when he'll be able to get another appointment with the holidays just ahead.
Okay, I'm done whining now.
ps, I was just getting ready to hit "publish post" when he called back. It's now 10:45, and he's leaving the dealership. They fixed the problem in short-order. Replaced the battery and replaced the negative-post or whatever, which had somehow become stripped and wasn't making contact. Heaven only knows how that could've happened. We've never had to jump-start the car before Saturday night, and have never used my car to jump-start anybody elses. Regardless, it's fixed now, free of charge.
That's been the best news I've had in quite a while now. Perhaps things are starting to look up? I can only hope!!
Okay, now I'm seriously done whining. I think I'll have that cheese now with some crackers.
: )
So...
I need to recap some of the crap that's happened in the past month and add to that list everything that's happened over the past few days...
*In the past month, we've discovered our much-beloved dog has some kind of seizure disorder... epilepsy? Maybe, we're not 100% sure as yet, but it still keeps us wondering if she's going to keel over into a fit of convulsions at any moment or what we're going to find every time we get up in the morning or arrive home from work.
*In the past 3 weeks the husband has been to the dentist's office 3 times. Initially just for a check-up and cleaning, but it was discovered while he was there that he'd broken a sizable piece of a tooth off and needed to have a crown put on. That required two more visits and a sizable dental bill because insurance doesn't pay but about 50% of crowns.
*In the past 10 days we've discovered that our roof leaks and needs to be repaired.
*In the past 5 days the husband had his d.o.t. physical and was informed he has high blood pressure. If he doesn't get it under control, he could lose his eligibility to drive a company vehicle (which face it, that's his job, his livelihood!!). So I got him an appointment to go see my pcp today (as he didn't have one) and we'll go from there. Don't know if she'll put him on bp medicine or what. I'm having anxiety over what that's going to set us back if he has to start taking those meds on a daily basis. Of course I told him if we'd both lose some weight, that would help immensely, but since he never wants to eat properly on the occasions that I have, it's a moot point.
*In the past 48 hours...
Crappy weather hit the area Saturday morning. The husband went to work at his usual time. I had to go into work that morning as well, as we'd been so unbelievable busy. I bundled up in layers, and tossed some more layers into my car as I'd be going to the farm straight from work. It was a sloppy drive into the office, but I drove slowly and made it there without incident. When I left work at 12, it was pointless to drive all the way home, then leave 10 minutes later to go the farm, so I drove straight to Shelbyville from LaGrange. It's about 15 miles from where I work (vs. 25 miles from home). However, I would be driving a route I'd never traveled before, in horrendous driving conditions, on some windy country roads that in all likelihood never see a plow/salt truck. I white-knuckled the steering wheel and managed to make it to the farm without incident.
It was sooo very cold out and the snow/ice that had fallen earlier had turned to slush in the pouring rain. My heart was breaking for the horses out in the pasture. I know, I know, this is what they're used to, but it still made my heart ache. I donned two more layers of clothing and walked about the stables looking like a blue stay-puff marshmallow man. I stayed a bit too warm, as I was sweating something awful, when I did finally take the coveralls and coat off, my jeans & t-shirt were wet with sweat and the 28degree weather only felt too good! Gee, I hope I don't catch pneumonia.
The morning shift was getting ready to leave when I arrived, and gave me a quick run-down on what was happening. A couple of horses had been brought in, one because she'd been shivering fiercely and the other mare just to keep her company. However, neither one liked being separated from the other girls, especially Ida B., who proceeded to throw a fit in her stall. Pacing fiercely, kicking and bucking like a rodeo bronc, I feared for her safety and for ours as well. For reasons I'll never understand, instead of putting them in their proper stalls, the volunteers had put these two girls in the wrong stalls. That meant the afternoon crew had the now dangerous job of moving them to the other end of the stables, otherwise, we'd be unable to bring the boys in and put them where they belonged. I was only too happy to let the other, more experienced women have the job of moving the girls. Now for the sloppy chore of bringing in the boys. The pouring rain had turned the normally muddy conditions near the gates into a quagmire. Our feet were sinking deeply into the mud and I wondered if our boots were going to stick in the mud and our feet come out bare with each step we took. It was precarious to say the least and the anxious horses were only too happy to come inside. There was no need to urge them to keep moving today. It saddened me that 5 of the 20 had to remain out in the nasty weather. I had to leave early that day as I needed to get home and get cleaned up for my husband's company's Christmas party. I left with a heavy heart and hoped those that had to remain outside in the elements would be okay.
The drive home was uneventful. I arrived right at 4pm, which was when the party was starting. I hurried inside to get cleaned up and changed. Neither of us had any money on us so we knew we'd have to stop at an ATM. We needed some cash, if for no other reason than to pay for parking at the Galt House. We walked out of the house at about 4:55 and got into my car. I went to start it and nothing happened. Nothing, nadda! The engine didn't even make that clicking noise they usually make when a battery is going dead. Crap!! As we were already running late, we didn't take the time to call AAA or even a neighbor to give us a jump-start, instead pushing the car out into the street and parking it in front of the neighbor's house. We dashed for the husband's car and got in (me driving of course). But wait... he thought perhaps we should use his car keys instead of mine because the battery in my keyless entry thingy was getting low on juice and when that happens, at random times the alarm will start going off when you try to lock/unlock the car and create a racket, and the only way to stop it is to drive around in a car that's blaring it's alarm, looking like a car thief and just wait for the alarm to stop blaring. Okay, fine, so now I had to go back into the house to find his keys, which of course weren't where he claimed he'd left them, and of course get the dogs all riled up with my presence. Once we'd found his keys and headed back out to his car he asked me if I just wanted to stay home and skip the party. Why? I asked. He said he just felt it was an omen, my car not starting, that perhaps we should stay home. Oh get in the car, let's go, we're late.
We made it to the ATM, got out $40 and hit the road. We'd gotten no more than 1 mile down I-71 when traffic suddenly came to a stand-still. It rolled along at about 5 miles an hour or less for the next 20 minutes. I think we finally arrived at the Galt House around 5:45ish. We joined the party, fortunately they kept the buffet line open 'til 7pm, so we didn't' miss out on dinner. For reasons I'm not quite sure of, they had us crammed into a small(er) room unlike years past, and because we were in a more cramped space, they had 10 diners to a table, which mean we were crammed in like sardines. Seriously, we were in there so tight, you couldn't even get your chair up to the table properly and had to lean way forward to eat your meal. Because of the awkward position, I developed some horrible muscle cramps in my legs and back. Fortunately, I liked the people we were dining with, so it made the closeness bearable... nothing worse than being crammed in with people you can't stand or don't even know. We left the party at 10:45 and were immediately hit with sticker-shock at the price we were charged for 5 hours of parking... $11.00 Good grief!! What does an all-day charge add up to??
We arrived home, tended to the dogs, changed clothes, and went out to once again attempt starting my car. Still nothing. It was so dead, the power locks wouldn't even work. We had to physically walk around to each door and lock it by hand. And since there was no way to lock the rear hatch, it just had to remain unlocked and we'd hope for the best that nobody broke in. I called AAA. The weatherman was calling for more bad weather on Sunday, so I figured AAA would be busier then, so better to have them come out now. AAA arrived right at midnight and jump-started my car. He advised us to let the car run for at least 20 minutes so that the alternator could charge the battery. We did as advised and moved the car from the street back into the driveway. I turned the car off and nothing happened. The dome light that normally comes on when the key is taken out of the ignition remained dark. I tried to start it back up and nothing. It was dead again. Well, no point in calling AAA back out tonight. John resigned himself to getting up early on Monday (his day off) and driving to the dealership on Dixie Hwy, in PRP. The car is less than 16 months old. The battery shouldn't be crapping out already. Something is either seriously wrong with the car or else we have a defective battery. I just hoped that the darned thing didn't have an electrical problem and suddenly catch fire in the middle of the night.
We both agreed that at least it was a good thing that it had happened while at home and not while I was at the farm, else we'd have totally missed the party.
Sunday, John nursed his hang-over and I finally got our Christmas cards stuffed, addressed, stamped and put in the mailbox.
That brings us up to today.
John got up early, 6am to be exact, got showered, dressed and called AAA. Okay, I called AAA because apparently, much like making his own doctors appointments, he can't do this for himself. AAA arrived at 7am, once again got the car started, and John headed off to the far side of the county. He'd no sooner left than I had a horrible feeling that I should've warned him to be careful when he approached intersections (because he's not used to driving a manual transmission, he had a tendency to kill the engine when taking off). But he was gone, and all I could do was hope he made it to the dealership without incident. He was supposed to call me when he'd arrived so I'd know he made it safely.
9:45 this morning, I still hadn't heard from him. Had he forgotten to call? Was he okay? I couldn't stand it any longer and finally called him. He answered right away and said he'd only just gotten there. What? Why did it take you 2 1/2 hours to make a 40 minute drive.
First off, he'd gotten stuck in traffic which held him up. Then he decided to stop at McD's for breakfast and in doing so, stalled the engine while in the drive-thru and again had to have AAA come jump-start the car. The whole time I'm thinking "dumb ass!!", well, okay, I think I may have actually said this outloud to him. He should've known better than to make an unnecessary stop. He could've waited 'til he got to the dealership, turned the car in, then walked next door for something to eat, assuming they didn't have free donuts at the dealership.
So now I'm waiting for another phone call, hoping against hope that whatever the problem is is something simple, and hopefully something covered under warranty which will mean little or no cost to us, and hopefully he can get out of there in time to make his doctors appointment. Otherwise, who knows when he'll be able to get another appointment with the holidays just ahead.
Okay, I'm done whining now.
ps, I was just getting ready to hit "publish post" when he called back. It's now 10:45, and he's leaving the dealership. They fixed the problem in short-order. Replaced the battery and replaced the negative-post or whatever, which had somehow become stripped and wasn't making contact. Heaven only knows how that could've happened. We've never had to jump-start the car before Saturday night, and have never used my car to jump-start anybody elses. Regardless, it's fixed now, free of charge.
That's been the best news I've had in quite a while now. Perhaps things are starting to look up? I can only hope!!
Okay, now I'm seriously done whining. I think I'll have that cheese now with some crackers.
: )
Thursday, December 13, 2007
"An Odum County Mystery", chapter 4
7:30am. "Ugh, this is too early to arrive at work" Katie thought to herself. "Why did I agree to come in so early?" It was an hour earlier than what she was accustomed to coming in, but Ralph had called her at home last night and asked her to come in early and help move the jungle of flowers out of the chapel, so that he'd have room to set up the extra chairs that would be needed for the huge crowd that was expected for Mrs. Paull's service.
Katie entered the funeral home through the garage and nearly ran smack into Ralph as he was pushing the racks of folding chairs onto the elevator. "I'll race you up to the first floor" she challenged him.
"Huh, like that's a challenge?" He knew she was teasing him because the ancient elevator took about 10 minutes to go from the basement to the first floor. An express elevator it was not. For that matter, a passenger elevator it was not. It was strictly for cargo.
"I hope this thing doesn't drag out all day long, I don't feel too good today." Ralph whined on a weekly basis about something hurting or not feeling good, so Katie did what she normally did and ignored him as she climbed the rickety steps.
She walked into the chapel that was over-flowing with flowers, plants, wreaths and other gaudy trinkets that had been sent. She strolled around the chapel, looking at the different displays of sympathy. They ranged from a small bud-vase with a single rose to a ficus that was over 8' tall, potted in an imitation clay pot. She just shook her head. How was the average person supposed to get such a huge plant home? It wouldn't even fit through the doorway unless tipped on it's side. Do people ever stop and think before they order these plants? Many of them order the biggest most expensive thing they can find, trying to "show off" to everyone, without ever considering the fact that somebody had to care for these living plants once the funeral was over and might not have the room for, or the skills to care for such a thing.
"Why do I stress myself over these things? It's not my problem." As Katie walked towards the casket, she noticed something lying in the floor. Thinking that it was a leaf or a piece of debris that had been tracked in on her shoe, she bent to pick it up, then quickly stood up and gave a small shriek. "EWWW! Raaalllphhh! Come get this thing outta here!" It was a small, dead frog. Now where on earth had that come from? And how had it gotten in here?
Katie wasn't fond of animals that weren't covered in some form of fur. Dead or alive. And she simply refused to touch it. "Ralph! Did you hear me?"
"Whadja say?" Ralph was standing by the elevator which moaned and groaned it's way up from the basement.
"There's a dead frog lying on the floor by the casket. You need to get rid of it."
"Why don't you throw it out?"
"Oh gross! I'm not touching it. Let me go put my purse and coat away and use the little girls room, then I'll come back and help you move these flowers."
Katie climbed yet another flight of stairs on her way to her office. She wondered why she wasn't skin and bones or at least, why her legs weren't heavily muscled as many times as she had to go up/down stairs each day.
Ten minutes later she was ready to pitch-in and start moving the portable jungle. As she walked past the elevator, she noticed that the chairs still sat on it, and that Ralph hadn't moved any plants yet. Probably out smoking a cigarette. Katie headed on towards the chapel and suddenly stopped short. She inhaled sharply at the sight before her. Ralph lay face down on the chapel floor. "What are you doing?" she called out to him, but got no reply. "Ralph?" Still nothing. She saw no sign of movement. She stepped hesitantly towards him, again calling his name. Oh cripes! Had he had a heart attack? He'd said he didn't feel good. But he was always saying that! She finally knelt down beside him and shook his shoulder. Nothing. Now Katie didn't feel too good either. Tears welled up in her eyes as she tried to decide what to do. He was such a heavy man, she didn't think she could get him rolled over to try doing cpr. She felt for his pulse on his neck but couldn't detect anything. Who did you call when the coroner was dead?She stood and stumbled towards the phone to call 911...
Katie entered the funeral home through the garage and nearly ran smack into Ralph as he was pushing the racks of folding chairs onto the elevator. "I'll race you up to the first floor" she challenged him.
"Huh, like that's a challenge?" He knew she was teasing him because the ancient elevator took about 10 minutes to go from the basement to the first floor. An express elevator it was not. For that matter, a passenger elevator it was not. It was strictly for cargo.
"I hope this thing doesn't drag out all day long, I don't feel too good today." Ralph whined on a weekly basis about something hurting or not feeling good, so Katie did what she normally did and ignored him as she climbed the rickety steps.
She walked into the chapel that was over-flowing with flowers, plants, wreaths and other gaudy trinkets that had been sent. She strolled around the chapel, looking at the different displays of sympathy. They ranged from a small bud-vase with a single rose to a ficus that was over 8' tall, potted in an imitation clay pot. She just shook her head. How was the average person supposed to get such a huge plant home? It wouldn't even fit through the doorway unless tipped on it's side. Do people ever stop and think before they order these plants? Many of them order the biggest most expensive thing they can find, trying to "show off" to everyone, without ever considering the fact that somebody had to care for these living plants once the funeral was over and might not have the room for, or the skills to care for such a thing.
"Why do I stress myself over these things? It's not my problem." As Katie walked towards the casket, she noticed something lying in the floor. Thinking that it was a leaf or a piece of debris that had been tracked in on her shoe, she bent to pick it up, then quickly stood up and gave a small shriek. "EWWW! Raaalllphhh! Come get this thing outta here!" It was a small, dead frog. Now where on earth had that come from? And how had it gotten in here?
Katie wasn't fond of animals that weren't covered in some form of fur. Dead or alive. And she simply refused to touch it. "Ralph! Did you hear me?"
"Whadja say?" Ralph was standing by the elevator which moaned and groaned it's way up from the basement.
"There's a dead frog lying on the floor by the casket. You need to get rid of it."
"Why don't you throw it out?"
"Oh gross! I'm not touching it. Let me go put my purse and coat away and use the little girls room, then I'll come back and help you move these flowers."
Katie climbed yet another flight of stairs on her way to her office. She wondered why she wasn't skin and bones or at least, why her legs weren't heavily muscled as many times as she had to go up/down stairs each day.
Ten minutes later she was ready to pitch-in and start moving the portable jungle. As she walked past the elevator, she noticed that the chairs still sat on it, and that Ralph hadn't moved any plants yet. Probably out smoking a cigarette. Katie headed on towards the chapel and suddenly stopped short. She inhaled sharply at the sight before her. Ralph lay face down on the chapel floor. "What are you doing?" she called out to him, but got no reply. "Ralph?" Still nothing. She saw no sign of movement. She stepped hesitantly towards him, again calling his name. Oh cripes! Had he had a heart attack? He'd said he didn't feel good. But he was always saying that! She finally knelt down beside him and shook his shoulder. Nothing. Now Katie didn't feel too good either. Tears welled up in her eyes as she tried to decide what to do. He was such a heavy man, she didn't think she could get him rolled over to try doing cpr. She felt for his pulse on his neck but couldn't detect anything. Who did you call when the coroner was dead?She stood and stumbled towards the phone to call 911...
Hereditary?
When I was growing up, bar-soap was the norm in our house (and most homes I dare say), as liquid soap wasn't as common. So whenever a bar of soap was used down to the point that only a sliver remained, my mother would replace the sliver with a new bar and toss the sliver into a large baggie she kept under the bathroom sink.
I remember asking her (on more than one occasion I think) why she did this. Her response: when she'd saved up enough of them, she'd melt them together to make "new" bars, thus not wasting the soap.
Okay, I understood. I think.
So for the 20 years I lived at home, she collected soap slivers. The bag became quite full and yet it remained under the bathroom sink, waiting to be "recycled".
I moved out on my own when I was 20. I too started a soap-sliver-collection-bag under the bathroom sink. When my fiance (now my husband) asked me why, I gave him the same answer my mother'd given me. Eventually though, liquid soap became the norm, and we stopped using bar soap all together. The only time I added to my collection was when we'd stayed at a hotel and I brought the mini-bars back home. Still, after 19 1/2 years, my gallon-sized zip-loc bag was pretty darned full.
Full of the kind of soap we never use. **sigh** Why was I collecting these things? I'm willing to bet that if I go to my parents' house and look under their bathroom sink, I'll find mom's collection of soap slivers, which by now has probably outgrown the baggie and could fill a 55-gal. trash bag. I'm willing to bet that she's never recycled her soap slivers either. Why am I still collecting these darned things????
I asked a friend of mine the other day if she'd ever made soap. She hadn't and I told her why I asked. She said, "oh my gosh! it's hereditary!" (meaning the saving of soap slivers).
A couple of weeks ago, I attempted to convert my soap pieces into new bars. It wasn't as easy as the instructions I'd found indicated. The soap didn't melt as easily as I thought it should. I put some of it in the microwave and it simply bubbled up. It never did boil down into a liquid form so that I could pour it into the mold (a muffin pan). I just scooped the soapy sludge out of the kettle and smashed it into the muffin pan. A week later, it never had completely set-up. I've been using the semi-soft muffin-soap ever since, just in an effort to use the stuff up.
Why can't I bring myself to just throw it away? Is it because of some insane need to not waste things? Or simply because of some gene I inherited from my mother that compels me to hoard soap??
I remember asking her (on more than one occasion I think) why she did this. Her response: when she'd saved up enough of them, she'd melt them together to make "new" bars, thus not wasting the soap.
Okay, I understood. I think.
So for the 20 years I lived at home, she collected soap slivers. The bag became quite full and yet it remained under the bathroom sink, waiting to be "recycled".
I moved out on my own when I was 20. I too started a soap-sliver-collection-bag under the bathroom sink. When my fiance (now my husband) asked me why, I gave him the same answer my mother'd given me. Eventually though, liquid soap became the norm, and we stopped using bar soap all together. The only time I added to my collection was when we'd stayed at a hotel and I brought the mini-bars back home. Still, after 19 1/2 years, my gallon-sized zip-loc bag was pretty darned full.
Full of the kind of soap we never use. **sigh** Why was I collecting these things? I'm willing to bet that if I go to my parents' house and look under their bathroom sink, I'll find mom's collection of soap slivers, which by now has probably outgrown the baggie and could fill a 55-gal. trash bag. I'm willing to bet that she's never recycled her soap slivers either. Why am I still collecting these darned things????
I asked a friend of mine the other day if she'd ever made soap. She hadn't and I told her why I asked. She said, "oh my gosh! it's hereditary!" (meaning the saving of soap slivers).
A couple of weeks ago, I attempted to convert my soap pieces into new bars. It wasn't as easy as the instructions I'd found indicated. The soap didn't melt as easily as I thought it should. I put some of it in the microwave and it simply bubbled up. It never did boil down into a liquid form so that I could pour it into the mold (a muffin pan). I just scooped the soapy sludge out of the kettle and smashed it into the muffin pan. A week later, it never had completely set-up. I've been using the semi-soft muffin-soap ever since, just in an effort to use the stuff up.
Why can't I bring myself to just throw it away? Is it because of some insane need to not waste things? Or simply because of some gene I inherited from my mother that compels me to hoard soap??
Tuesday, December 11, 2007
Explain to me...
I stopped in the Wally-world store here in LaGrange this morning to pick up some diet-reds to have on hand at work. As I was heading to the check-out lanes, I passed through the produce department and noticed a store employee sorting through the apple bin, removing apples that were bruised and setting them aside.
A light went on in my head.
I back-tracked and approched her and asked what they did with the damaged produce.
She told me they just throw them away.
I know my face lit up with that tidbit of info.
Before I could ask my next question, she said they simply mark them off and throw them out.
Now my question: Is there any way I could get those items, even at a reduced price.
She started shaking her head no.
But, it's for the farm...
She continued to shake her head and tell me firmly: No
Hmph!
I simply don't understand why a business would rather throw items away to go to the landfill than to sell them and make some kind of profit.
A light went on in my head.
I back-tracked and approched her and asked what they did with the damaged produce.
She told me they just throw them away.
I know my face lit up with that tidbit of info.
Before I could ask my next question, she said they simply mark them off and throw them out.
Now my question: Is there any way I could get those items, even at a reduced price.
She started shaking her head no.
But, it's for the farm...
She continued to shake her head and tell me firmly: No
Hmph!
I simply don't understand why a business would rather throw items away to go to the landfill than to sell them and make some kind of profit.
Friday, December 07, 2007
"An Odum County Mystery", chapter 3
"Ouch! Oh, oh, oh, it HURTS! Oh no, I think I'm going to pass out." Katie just sat and rolled her eyes as Ralph stood behind her, whining about the paper cut he'd just received on the palm of his hand. Granted, paper cuts do hurt, but he always carried on about his little boo-boos to the extreme. The man could not handle pain at all. But then, what man could?
Ralph plopped down in a chair, tissue bunched up in his hand to soak up the blood. "Eeww, that is a nasty one. You'd better put some alcohol on that Ralph so it doesn't get infected."
He just looked at her with an incredulous look. "Are you insane? Do you know how much that would hurt? I'll be fine, just give me a minute then I'll go wash it out. It's not so bad."
"Fine. Whatever. But you should at least put a band-aid on it. Otherwise it'll get full of germs and could get infected."
"Nah, I'll be alright."
"Okay, well, changing subjects... I've got the paperwork done for Mrs. Paull's funeral tomorrow. And the register book and folders are all ready set out for the visitation this evening. You should see all the flowers that have already been delivered. Such a waste. This place is going to look like a jungle before this evening is over, I just know it."
At five o'clock, Katie called it a day. As she made her way down the stairs, she took a deep breath and tried to hold it as she had to practically push and shove her way through the throngs of people that had gathered at the bottom of the stairs, in the hallway, and in the vestibule. She never could figure out why people seemed to congregate at the bottom of the stairs and in doorways like they do.
Once outside, she exhaled and took another deep breath to clear away the over-powering mix of colognes that filled her head and nearly made her ill. Why do people feel such a need to bathe themselves in perfume? Just a small dab would be so much more appealing that the cloud of vapors that surrounded some of these people.
She waved at Ralph through the window as she headed to her car. Poor man. She couldn't help but feel sorry for him sometimes. It really had to suck living where you work. He had a hard time just walking away from the families at quitting time and going home, instead, sticking around for a while and mingling. Then coming back either after everyone had left or really early in the morning to switch the chapel around and move all the flowers for the service. Besides, how much privacy can one really have when a hundred or more people are milling around below your apartment? And how many times had some nosey person gone snooping and barged into Ralph's apartment when he'd forgotten to lock his door? Katie just sighed to herself. "Better him than me."
Ralph plopped down in a chair, tissue bunched up in his hand to soak up the blood. "Eeww, that is a nasty one. You'd better put some alcohol on that Ralph so it doesn't get infected."
He just looked at her with an incredulous look. "Are you insane? Do you know how much that would hurt? I'll be fine, just give me a minute then I'll go wash it out. It's not so bad."
"Fine. Whatever. But you should at least put a band-aid on it. Otherwise it'll get full of germs and could get infected."
"Nah, I'll be alright."
"Okay, well, changing subjects... I've got the paperwork done for Mrs. Paull's funeral tomorrow. And the register book and folders are all ready set out for the visitation this evening. You should see all the flowers that have already been delivered. Such a waste. This place is going to look like a jungle before this evening is over, I just know it."
At five o'clock, Katie called it a day. As she made her way down the stairs, she took a deep breath and tried to hold it as she had to practically push and shove her way through the throngs of people that had gathered at the bottom of the stairs, in the hallway, and in the vestibule. She never could figure out why people seemed to congregate at the bottom of the stairs and in doorways like they do.
Once outside, she exhaled and took another deep breath to clear away the over-powering mix of colognes that filled her head and nearly made her ill. Why do people feel such a need to bathe themselves in perfume? Just a small dab would be so much more appealing that the cloud of vapors that surrounded some of these people.
She waved at Ralph through the window as she headed to her car. Poor man. She couldn't help but feel sorry for him sometimes. It really had to suck living where you work. He had a hard time just walking away from the families at quitting time and going home, instead, sticking around for a while and mingling. Then coming back either after everyone had left or really early in the morning to switch the chapel around and move all the flowers for the service. Besides, how much privacy can one really have when a hundred or more people are milling around below your apartment? And how many times had some nosey person gone snooping and barged into Ralph's apartment when he'd forgotten to lock his door? Katie just sighed to herself. "Better him than me."
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
bizzy, bizzy, bizzy
It's just been a mad-house around here lately. So much going on. If it's not funerals on a daily basis, then we've been making ourselves crazy getting ready for this big ministers' breakfast our office puts on every year at this time. The big event is tomorrow, so hopefully things will start to return to normal, if not on thursday, then maybe next week.
So many things I've wanted to blog about, in addition to the next chapter of the Mystery-blog, but haven't had much time.
Our calender at home is so full. One, the other, or both of us has something going on every weekend, and often on weeknights. I feel if I have to add one more obligation to the calender, I'll simply go mad!!!
Ah, but 'tis the season! Give, give, give... 'tis far better to give than to receive, right? So we keep giving of ourselves and our time. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. I like staying busy, I just wish it were more spread out, and not all coming at us at once.
Okay, so on a separate note...
Why is it that when the boss buys something for the employees, whether it's for Christmas or Secretary's Day or whatever the occasion, he/she pays for the gift(s) out of petty cash or puts it on an expense report and gets reimbursed? Yet, when the employee(s) get the boss something, it comes out of our own pocket?? There is something seriously wrong and unjust with this picture!!
So many things I've wanted to blog about, in addition to the next chapter of the Mystery-blog, but haven't had much time.
Our calender at home is so full. One, the other, or both of us has something going on every weekend, and often on weeknights. I feel if I have to add one more obligation to the calender, I'll simply go mad!!!
Ah, but 'tis the season! Give, give, give... 'tis far better to give than to receive, right? So we keep giving of ourselves and our time. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. I like staying busy, I just wish it were more spread out, and not all coming at us at once.
Okay, so on a separate note...
Why is it that when the boss buys something for the employees, whether it's for Christmas or Secretary's Day or whatever the occasion, he/she pays for the gift(s) out of petty cash or puts it on an expense report and gets reimbursed? Yet, when the employee(s) get the boss something, it comes out of our own pocket?? There is something seriously wrong and unjust with this picture!!
Monday, December 03, 2007
my new "friends"
I really need to work on my photography skills. But oh well... I thought I'd share a few pix of my new "friends".
The first two are of Sampson, the wonder-horse that we nearly lost a few weeks ago to the stomach tumors. See how his belly is shaved?
Next we have "the girls". The first one is a pony, Ida B. She's a bit of a witch, and was just recently put in with the other girls in hopes that they'd help put her in her place and teach her some manners. Next is Lady. She's the queen-in-charge of their small herd.
Next we have "the girls". The first one is a pony, Ida B. She's a bit of a witch, and was just recently put in with the other girls in hopes that they'd help put her in her place and teach her some manners. Next is Lady. She's the queen-in-charge of their small herd.
This is Miss Ellie, the newest horse at the farm, and then we have Ivory Lady. She was a bit camera shy and I could only get her picture as she was walking away. Ivory is the old lady of the bunch, and we worry that if it's a hard winter, she may not be with us next spring.
I had to throw in this picture of Eliott the goat. Eliott is the black one in the middle.
These last two ponies are Pongo, the pony of many spots, and last but certainly not least is Danny Boy.
Hopefully I can get some more pix of my other new friends next week.
Thursday, November 29, 2007
Caught in the act
Under normal circumstances, I truly love this time of year. Oh, I don't mean the holidays part of it, but I mean the cooler temperatures, the beautiful changing colors on the trees, etc. etc.
However, it's because of those leaves, or should I say, a lack there of, that I was just caught in the act of doing something that should probably never be done accept in the privacy of a securely locked bathroom or bedroom.
Okay, get your minds out of the gutter. Shame on you!
I was plucking a whisker from my chinny-chin-chin that was driving me up the wall!
I do believe I admitted several months ago that for reasons I'll never quite understand, I joined the ranks of women that have started growing facial hair. **sigh** Yes, I occasionally have to pluck a whisker from my chin and more commonly from the area between my chin and throat, above the neck area... what exactly do we call that area???
Anyway, I try to check that area every morning while I'm getting ready for work. But I either missed a couple this morning, or maybe they've just popped out since then. Either way, I could feel them and they were annoying me. They show up best in the natural light that comes in the window, so I grabbed my trusty little mirror and my tweezers, made sure the coast was clear outside my office, and proceeded to pluck.
It wasn't 'til after I was done that I realized the people in the building across the alley were sitting at their desks, looking out their windows right at me. Normally the big tulip-poplar tree is covered with leaves and blocks our view of one another. Not so anymore.
However, it's because of those leaves, or should I say, a lack there of, that I was just caught in the act of doing something that should probably never be done accept in the privacy of a securely locked bathroom or bedroom.
Okay, get your minds out of the gutter. Shame on you!
I was plucking a whisker from my chinny-chin-chin that was driving me up the wall!
I do believe I admitted several months ago that for reasons I'll never quite understand, I joined the ranks of women that have started growing facial hair. **sigh** Yes, I occasionally have to pluck a whisker from my chin and more commonly from the area between my chin and throat, above the neck area... what exactly do we call that area???
Anyway, I try to check that area every morning while I'm getting ready for work. But I either missed a couple this morning, or maybe they've just popped out since then. Either way, I could feel them and they were annoying me. They show up best in the natural light that comes in the window, so I grabbed my trusty little mirror and my tweezers, made sure the coast was clear outside my office, and proceeded to pluck.
It wasn't 'til after I was done that I realized the people in the building across the alley were sitting at their desks, looking out their windows right at me. Normally the big tulip-poplar tree is covered with leaves and blocks our view of one another. Not so anymore.
To err is human...
... but to err in the ways that I have of late, all I can say is: I need to pay more attention to what I'm doing.
A friend and fellow blogger wrote last week, telling of one of her cooking horror stories, so I thought I'd add my most recent blunder. I screwed up dinner the other night, and I can only blame it on myself, trying to do too many things at once and not paying enough attention.
I had one of those Campbells meals in a box or whatever they're called and it had been on the shelf forever. I decided it was time to use it and free up the space. I had some thawed hamburger in the fridge that I needed to use up as well, and even though the dinner kit already had sausage and pepperoni in it, I cooked up the ground beef and added that as well. That was to be the husband's dinner.
I was using up some of the left-over stuffing and gravy from Thanksgiving. I didn't want to fix mashed potatoes from scratch for just myself, so I opted for a package of instant potatoes, cheesy flavor. I was waiting for my milk/water concoction to boil and had the bag of flavored potato-dust opened, sitting to the left of the stove, waiting to be added to the pot. On the right side of the stove, I had John's concoction bubbling in a large skillet. The pasta that was in it was done, but I was just trying to cook off some of the broth, so that it would be a bit thicker. The bag that had the cheesy-crumb topping was sitting, opened, to the right of the stove.
In a moment of distraction, I picked up my bag of potato-dust to add to my milk and totally by-passed my pan and dumped it all into John's pan. Oh crap!!! Forget what it was going to do to his meal, what about my potatoes???? Grrr! Fortunately, I had another pack in the cabinet and quickly added it to my boiling milk. He claimed his dinner still tasted fine, but honestly, it set up so, um, firm shall we say, that I've no doubt it sat like a lead ball in his belly.
There was my screw-up #1.
Obviously, I'm not one to spend much time styling my hair. And once I leave the house in the morning, that's pretty much it for the day. I'm not big on making touch-ups as the day goes along. I've got a pump-bottle of hairspray I keep at work, and I've had it for the entire 5 years I've been here (probably had it at the former job as well), and the bottle is still over 3/4 full. So that should tell you how often I use it, or rather, don't use it. Yesterday, for whatever reason, I decided to fluff my hair before leaving work. I had the bottle of hairspray sitting next to my typewriter, and I stood there, looking into a tiny 2"x3" mirror I had propped on a shelf above. Once I'd achieved the fluff I wanted, I reached for the can of spray, held that button down and started spraying away.
Have you figured it out yet? A pump bottle you don't hold down, you keep pressing. An aerosol comes in a can and you can hold it down. Needless to say, I wasn't spraying hairspray on my hair. I suppose it could've been something horrible like Pledge furniture polish or something, but as it was, I'd now liberally coated my hair with an air freshner called "Scavenger".
In all honesty, despite the horrible name, it actually smells pretty good. So now my hair smelled nice, but it didn't have the desired style I wanted.
A friend and fellow blogger wrote last week, telling of one of her cooking horror stories, so I thought I'd add my most recent blunder. I screwed up dinner the other night, and I can only blame it on myself, trying to do too many things at once and not paying enough attention.
I had one of those Campbells meals in a box or whatever they're called and it had been on the shelf forever. I decided it was time to use it and free up the space. I had some thawed hamburger in the fridge that I needed to use up as well, and even though the dinner kit already had sausage and pepperoni in it, I cooked up the ground beef and added that as well. That was to be the husband's dinner.
I was using up some of the left-over stuffing and gravy from Thanksgiving. I didn't want to fix mashed potatoes from scratch for just myself, so I opted for a package of instant potatoes, cheesy flavor. I was waiting for my milk/water concoction to boil and had the bag of flavored potato-dust opened, sitting to the left of the stove, waiting to be added to the pot. On the right side of the stove, I had John's concoction bubbling in a large skillet. The pasta that was in it was done, but I was just trying to cook off some of the broth, so that it would be a bit thicker. The bag that had the cheesy-crumb topping was sitting, opened, to the right of the stove.
In a moment of distraction, I picked up my bag of potato-dust to add to my milk and totally by-passed my pan and dumped it all into John's pan. Oh crap!!! Forget what it was going to do to his meal, what about my potatoes???? Grrr! Fortunately, I had another pack in the cabinet and quickly added it to my boiling milk. He claimed his dinner still tasted fine, but honestly, it set up so, um, firm shall we say, that I've no doubt it sat like a lead ball in his belly.
There was my screw-up #1.
Obviously, I'm not one to spend much time styling my hair. And once I leave the house in the morning, that's pretty much it for the day. I'm not big on making touch-ups as the day goes along. I've got a pump-bottle of hairspray I keep at work, and I've had it for the entire 5 years I've been here (probably had it at the former job as well), and the bottle is still over 3/4 full. So that should tell you how often I use it, or rather, don't use it. Yesterday, for whatever reason, I decided to fluff my hair before leaving work. I had the bottle of hairspray sitting next to my typewriter, and I stood there, looking into a tiny 2"x3" mirror I had propped on a shelf above. Once I'd achieved the fluff I wanted, I reached for the can of spray, held that button down and started spraying away.
Have you figured it out yet? A pump bottle you don't hold down, you keep pressing. An aerosol comes in a can and you can hold it down. Needless to say, I wasn't spraying hairspray on my hair. I suppose it could've been something horrible like Pledge furniture polish or something, but as it was, I'd now liberally coated my hair with an air freshner called "Scavenger".
In all honesty, despite the horrible name, it actually smells pretty good. So now my hair smelled nice, but it didn't have the desired style I wanted.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Is my money no good?
Nobody seems to want my money. Well, let me re-phrase that... I'm trying to give money to the company we got our new mattress from, and they don't seem to want it. That's all good and fine, just as long as they don't come back months from now demanding it, with late fees and finance charges on top of that. Grrrr!
You may recall we purchased a new mattress on October 16th. It was delivered a couple of weeks later, on the 29th I believe it was. We signed a contract for 12-months interest free financing... meaning we could make payments and pay it off in that amount of time with paying interest, or wait 'til the end of the 12 months and pay it all at once, interest free, or pay it after that point and pay some serious interest rates.
Personally, I'd like to send them some money each month and get it paid off in that 12 months. At least that was my plan.
It's now been 6 weeks since we purchased it, 1 month since we took delivery of it, and I've yet to get a statement from the finance company. I called the mattress store and was told I should've gotten a statement. Gee, do ya think? They told me to call the finance company and gave me the phone number. The finance company claimed they couldn't help (after also telling me I should be getting a statement), and that I should call the mattress store. Nope, sorry dude, they told me to call you. Well they're wrong, he tells me.
Okay, whatever. So where should I send money????
I was told to give it a few more days and see if a statement doesn't show up in the mail.
ARGGHHHHH!!!!!!
You may recall we purchased a new mattress on October 16th. It was delivered a couple of weeks later, on the 29th I believe it was. We signed a contract for 12-months interest free financing... meaning we could make payments and pay it off in that amount of time with paying interest, or wait 'til the end of the 12 months and pay it all at once, interest free, or pay it after that point and pay some serious interest rates.
Personally, I'd like to send them some money each month and get it paid off in that 12 months. At least that was my plan.
It's now been 6 weeks since we purchased it, 1 month since we took delivery of it, and I've yet to get a statement from the finance company. I called the mattress store and was told I should've gotten a statement. Gee, do ya think? They told me to call the finance company and gave me the phone number. The finance company claimed they couldn't help (after also telling me I should be getting a statement), and that I should call the mattress store. Nope, sorry dude, they told me to call you. Well they're wrong, he tells me.
Okay, whatever. So where should I send money????
I was told to give it a few more days and see if a statement doesn't show up in the mail.
ARGGHHHHH!!!!!!
The Invisible Woman
Ya know, for as much as some people seem to listen to me when I'm trying to carry on a conversation with them, or if they ask me a question and I answer them only to be have my response totally ignored, then I might as well be the invisible woman. Because they sure as hell don't seem to ever hear a word I say!!
I've had the same exact conversation three times now with two people I have to deal with, and each and every freaking time, they turn around the next day and ask me again, "what are we going to do with these _____?"
How many freaking times can I say it? Do I have to write, in 10' high, bold face letters and post a sign by the door, letting them know what we're going to do with those _____?
Why do I waste my breath??
I've had the same exact conversation three times now with two people I have to deal with, and each and every freaking time, they turn around the next day and ask me again, "what are we going to do with these _____?"
How many freaking times can I say it? Do I have to write, in 10' high, bold face letters and post a sign by the door, letting them know what we're going to do with those _____?
Why do I waste my breath??
Tuesday, November 27, 2007
My puppies have the blues
When the hubby and I were out shopping at Garden Ridge last week, they had their bed-in-a-bags on sale, half price, which brought them down to $20. Hmm, set of sheets, comforter, and pillow cases (plus the other stuff I don't care about)... granted it's not high-quality stuff, and I'd never put it on my own bed, but I don't think the dogs will be that discriminating, so I picked out a bag of bed-stuff for the dogs. It had a dark blue background, decorated with maize colored suns and moons.
My first mistake: for some unknown reason, I was thinking the futon was a queen-size. It's not, it's only a full-size. That means the fitted sheet doesn't fit quite so well. The rest of it doesn't really matter, and the bigger the comforter, the better as far as I'm concerned. I put the fitted sheet on the mattress and tried to tuck it under as best as I could, but needless to say, since it's a loose fit, it keeps coming un-tucked.
My second mistake: I should've looked at the picture on the package a little closer. Why didn't I notice that while the comforter, pillow-shams and dust-ruffle all have the dark blue background, the sheets and pillow cases were white??? Needless to say, they didn't stay white for very long.
My third mistake: I guess I should've washed it all, or at least, the blue stuff, before putting it down for the dogs to sleep on. It seems to be quite full of dye. Or, at least, it was full of dye , before it all rubbed off onto the dogs....
Eliott was standing in the kitchen a couple of days ago and I couldn't help but notice he seemed to have a blue-tint to his fur. Thinking perhaps it was just the lighting and shadows, I didn't give it much thought. But then a little later, I noticed Bootsy's white feet were now the color of faded denim. And Olivia, well, amazingly she's not so bad, I guess because she spends most of her time either in the crate or on the recliner.
My babies have the blues.
My first mistake: for some unknown reason, I was thinking the futon was a queen-size. It's not, it's only a full-size. That means the fitted sheet doesn't fit quite so well. The rest of it doesn't really matter, and the bigger the comforter, the better as far as I'm concerned. I put the fitted sheet on the mattress and tried to tuck it under as best as I could, but needless to say, since it's a loose fit, it keeps coming un-tucked.
My second mistake: I should've looked at the picture on the package a little closer. Why didn't I notice that while the comforter, pillow-shams and dust-ruffle all have the dark blue background, the sheets and pillow cases were white??? Needless to say, they didn't stay white for very long.
My third mistake: I guess I should've washed it all, or at least, the blue stuff, before putting it down for the dogs to sleep on. It seems to be quite full of dye. Or, at least, it was full of dye , before it all rubbed off onto the dogs....
Eliott was standing in the kitchen a couple of days ago and I couldn't help but notice he seemed to have a blue-tint to his fur. Thinking perhaps it was just the lighting and shadows, I didn't give it much thought. But then a little later, I noticed Bootsy's white feet were now the color of faded denim. And Olivia, well, amazingly she's not so bad, I guess because she spends most of her time either in the crate or on the recliner.
My babies have the blues.
Friday, November 23, 2007
Why am I so ____ about these things?
The answer to my blog from early this week...
Why am I so _______ about these things?
Balancing my checkbook?
Toilet seats?
Toilet paper on the roll?
Loading the dishwasher?
Putting the clean dishes away?'
Hand washing?
Okay, obviously the word that goes in the blank could either be obsessive or anal.
My anwer as to why? I have no freaking idea! And it drives me crazy.
I obsess over my checkbook having to balance to the penny. A clean toilet seat is a must. Toilet paper hanging from the front of the roll... I've been known to go into other peoples homes and change the direction their toilet paper hangs, just because I couldn't stand seeing it hang backwards.
The dishwasher, well, if it isn't my way, then it's the wrong way. Why after 20 years together can't my husband just learn my way, instead of leaving his dirty dishes sitting next to the sink for me to put away???? On occasion he tries to put things in the dishwasher, but I always end up moving the item to another spot on the rack, or turning it to face the other direction.
As for emptying the dishwasher, well, he does try to help out there from time to time, but without fail, he always puts something away in the wrong place and then I can't ever find it. If you can't put it where it belongs, then just leave it, or better yet, try asking me where it goes!
As for hand washing, well, do I really have to go there? That's why my hands stay so chapped because I wash them almost to the point of obsessiveness.
And yet, for all these things I'm so anal about, my house is a wreck and my clothes are wrinkled. Go figure!!
Why am I so _______ about these things?
Balancing my checkbook?
Toilet seats?
Toilet paper on the roll?
Loading the dishwasher?
Putting the clean dishes away?'
Hand washing?
Okay, obviously the word that goes in the blank could either be obsessive or anal.
My anwer as to why? I have no freaking idea! And it drives me crazy.
I obsess over my checkbook having to balance to the penny. A clean toilet seat is a must. Toilet paper hanging from the front of the roll... I've been known to go into other peoples homes and change the direction their toilet paper hangs, just because I couldn't stand seeing it hang backwards.
The dishwasher, well, if it isn't my way, then it's the wrong way. Why after 20 years together can't my husband just learn my way, instead of leaving his dirty dishes sitting next to the sink for me to put away???? On occasion he tries to put things in the dishwasher, but I always end up moving the item to another spot on the rack, or turning it to face the other direction.
As for emptying the dishwasher, well, he does try to help out there from time to time, but without fail, he always puts something away in the wrong place and then I can't ever find it. If you can't put it where it belongs, then just leave it, or better yet, try asking me where it goes!
As for hand washing, well, do I really have to go there? That's why my hands stay so chapped because I wash them almost to the point of obsessiveness.
And yet, for all these things I'm so anal about, my house is a wreck and my clothes are wrinkled. Go figure!!
Why?
Inquiring minds want to know....
*Why do some farts smell and others have no odor?
*Why do some farts sneak out while others come out creating a wide variety of sound effects?
*Why is it that two people can listen to the same exact conversation or set of instructions from a third person, and each hear or interpret what was said entirely different?
*Why is it that we can totally love an outfit we've tried on at the store, yet when we get it home we absolutely hate it and can't believe we ever purchased it?
*Why is it that husbands/fathers can fall asleep in front of the tv and be totally oblivious to everything going on around them, yet the moment you change the channel they wake up and can tell you word for word everything that was happening on the tv?
*Why ask why?
*Why do some farts smell and others have no odor?
*Why do some farts sneak out while others come out creating a wide variety of sound effects?
*Why is it that two people can listen to the same exact conversation or set of instructions from a third person, and each hear or interpret what was said entirely different?
*Why is it that we can totally love an outfit we've tried on at the store, yet when we get it home we absolutely hate it and can't believe we ever purchased it?
*Why is it that husbands/fathers can fall asleep in front of the tv and be totally oblivious to everything going on around them, yet the moment you change the channel they wake up and can tell you word for word everything that was happening on the tv?
*Why ask why?
Calling Miss Manners
I'm seriously considering writing a letter to Miss Manners, or Emily Post, or whoever can clarify something for me. Perhaps some of you would like to weigh-in on this and give me your thoughts...
I understand if you fix a dish, or an entire meal and take it to someone, say if they're sick, or if they're celebrating some special occasion, then the food you take is theirs to enjoy, and you don't bring it back home with you. They simply return the empty dishes, hopefully washed, when they are done.
Here is my question: If you're attending a pitch-in dinner, you know the kind, where everybody brings something to contribute, are you supposed to leave the left-overs at the home of whoever is hosting? Or do you take your left-overs back home? I'd really like to know what's proper.
As many of us did this past week, we attended one of the biggest pitch-in dinners of the year, a.k.a. Thanksgiving. I contributed two of the side-dishes, two desserts, several 2-liters, ice, and chips. In the past, unless I just didn't want to take something home, or unless somebody asked if I minded if they kept the left-overs (assuming there were any), then I've always taken my stuff back home when all was said and done.
However, after yesterdays meal, the hostess was in the kitchen tidying up and putting things away and I went in to see if she needed my help. I saw that she'd already washed/dried one of the crock-pots I'd taken, having put the left-overs in a Rubbermaid dish (I assumed for us to take home). I told her, "Oh, you could've just left it in the crockpot. You didn't need to put it in a different bowl."
I was promptly told by the hostess, "Oh, those left-overs are for us (her family)."
I just looked at her. I was replaying all the afternoons conversations we'd had, trying to remember if she'd asked for them or if I'd offered them up. I knew darned well she hadn't, nor had I. I guess she could tell by the confused look on my face that she needed to explain herself. "It's my rule, if anybody brings food into my house, then it stays with me."
I see. Okay. Fine. I told her to keep the rest of the stuffing I'd brought, as I still had another whole pan at home... so we really didn't need to take that home. But I was be-DAMNED! if I was leaving the rest of the stuff there. I immediately started gathering up the rest of my stuff and taking it to the car before she could transfer it all into her own Rubbermaid dishes. In all honesty, if she hadn't just started claiming everything as hers, then I'd most likely have tried to leave a large portion of my stuff there, as we don't need it, but she'd already annoyed me.
I'd made two pies, totally from scratch, that had turned out absolutely devine, and while we really don't need high-calorie desserts around our house, I just wasn't leaving them there for her bunch to enjoy.
Okay, these desserts, one was a banana-cream pie, made totally from scratch. It was the first time I've ever made pudding that didn't come from a box of Jell-O brand pudding. And the other pie was triple-chocolate, oh my gosh! It had a chocolate-graham cracker crust, a chocolate-sour-cream filling, a chocolate whipped topping and mini-chocolate chips on top. Ooh-la-la!!
I understand if you fix a dish, or an entire meal and take it to someone, say if they're sick, or if they're celebrating some special occasion, then the food you take is theirs to enjoy, and you don't bring it back home with you. They simply return the empty dishes, hopefully washed, when they are done.
Here is my question: If you're attending a pitch-in dinner, you know the kind, where everybody brings something to contribute, are you supposed to leave the left-overs at the home of whoever is hosting? Or do you take your left-overs back home? I'd really like to know what's proper.
As many of us did this past week, we attended one of the biggest pitch-in dinners of the year, a.k.a. Thanksgiving. I contributed two of the side-dishes, two desserts, several 2-liters, ice, and chips. In the past, unless I just didn't want to take something home, or unless somebody asked if I minded if they kept the left-overs (assuming there were any), then I've always taken my stuff back home when all was said and done.
However, after yesterdays meal, the hostess was in the kitchen tidying up and putting things away and I went in to see if she needed my help. I saw that she'd already washed/dried one of the crock-pots I'd taken, having put the left-overs in a Rubbermaid dish (I assumed for us to take home). I told her, "Oh, you could've just left it in the crockpot. You didn't need to put it in a different bowl."
I was promptly told by the hostess, "Oh, those left-overs are for us (her family)."
I just looked at her. I was replaying all the afternoons conversations we'd had, trying to remember if she'd asked for them or if I'd offered them up. I knew darned well she hadn't, nor had I. I guess she could tell by the confused look on my face that she needed to explain herself. "It's my rule, if anybody brings food into my house, then it stays with me."
I see. Okay. Fine. I told her to keep the rest of the stuffing I'd brought, as I still had another whole pan at home... so we really didn't need to take that home. But I was be-DAMNED! if I was leaving the rest of the stuff there. I immediately started gathering up the rest of my stuff and taking it to the car before she could transfer it all into her own Rubbermaid dishes. In all honesty, if she hadn't just started claiming everything as hers, then I'd most likely have tried to leave a large portion of my stuff there, as we don't need it, but she'd already annoyed me.
I'd made two pies, totally from scratch, that had turned out absolutely devine, and while we really don't need high-calorie desserts around our house, I just wasn't leaving them there for her bunch to enjoy.
Okay, these desserts, one was a banana-cream pie, made totally from scratch. It was the first time I've ever made pudding that didn't come from a box of Jell-O brand pudding. And the other pie was triple-chocolate, oh my gosh! It had a chocolate-graham cracker crust, a chocolate-sour-cream filling, a chocolate whipped topping and mini-chocolate chips on top. Ooh-la-la!!
Joining the ranks
Ya know, a few years ago I used to scoff and poke fun of all the idiots that went out shopping in the pre-dawn hours, the day after Thanksgiving. Then about 5 or 6 years ago, I joined the ranks and became one of those idiots. I hadn't intended to make it a yearly tradition, but low and behold, it has. Even my husband enjoys the insanity, on the rare occasions he happens to be off work and can join me (but not this year).
The stores seem to be opening their doors earlier and earlier every year, and many even opening on Thanksgiving Day, which seems rather rude to me. I suppose I can understand the grocery stores being open for a few hours, so people can pick up those items they either forgot, didn't get enough of, or to pick up their pre-prepared dinners. But general merchandise shopping, tsk, tsk, that should be out-lawed.
Of course, shame on me, I was out there at 6:45 yesterday morning, waiting for the Old Tyme Pottery Store to open at 7am. Am I insane? Probably. But I was there for work-related reasons. I needed 150 coffee mugs, which were on sale for .25cents. The circular that had come out on Wednesday didn't mention there being a limit, and I called over there to specifically ask if there was one because, as I told the girl, I didn't want to drive all the way to Indiana only to find out I was limited to 4 (or whatever). She assured me there was no limit. So you can imagine how pissy I got when the husband and I arrived, each pushing our own cart, and found the sign on the display that stated "limit of 6". SIX??? I don't think so!!! I voiced my displeasure out loud and the poor stock boy that was filling the display cringed in fear and started mumbling, "I-I-I'm s-s-s-sorry, I only s-s-stock the sh-sh-shelves. I-I-I d-d-don't muh-make the rules."
I know, I know. It wasn't his fault. He's a pee-on like everybody else. He offered to page the manager, which he did. And I stood there for several seconds looking at the display dwindle down before my eyes. I looked at the husband and said screw it! We started grabbing cases of these cups (12 to a case). We cleaned the display off. However, my delay in making this decision obviously cost me a few cups. We walked away with 111, I still needed another 39.
The manager never showed up, and nobody else challenged me about buying so many. Perhaps the frightened stock-boy had already spread the word about the rabid woman and not to cross her.
We then headed to Garden Ridge to see if we could find some more to round out my order. While I didn't find exactly the same thing (or even close really), I did purchase 19 more at .74cents each. So having 130 is better than none.
We purchased a newspaper while out, as I wanted to see the stores' ads so that I could plan my attack for Friday morning. The main one I wanted was Wal-mart. Imagine my irritation at not having one. I thought I'd been short-changed. When we got to my s-i-l's house, I looked through her paper, and she too was missing the Wallyworld ad. Grrrr! My friend and friday-morning-shopping-partner called me and informed that she too was missing the Wal-mart ad. What the hell??? I finally called the store and asked what was going on and was informed they'd gone out in Wednesday's paper. Well that's stupid!! What about all the people that only subscribe to the Sunday/holiday papers? I had to make a special trip to the store to pick up an ad.
I sat down and perused everything, and I gotta say, in general, I was disappointed with this years ads. Nothing really jumped out at me as being either a terrific bargain, or something I couldn't live without. They did have a good price on laptops, but we really didn't need to spend $800 on one right now. But I still got up and made it to Wal-mart by 5am when the big sale started. I was in and out in less than 30 minutes, and most of that was just spent waiting for the sale to start. I came away with yet another crock-pot (I think this makes #9 in my collection), and several dvds and cds that were on sale for $5 or less. I went straight back home, fed the dogs, and laid back down for another 90 minutes.
Let the Christmas shopping count-down begin!!
The stores seem to be opening their doors earlier and earlier every year, and many even opening on Thanksgiving Day, which seems rather rude to me. I suppose I can understand the grocery stores being open for a few hours, so people can pick up those items they either forgot, didn't get enough of, or to pick up their pre-prepared dinners. But general merchandise shopping, tsk, tsk, that should be out-lawed.
Of course, shame on me, I was out there at 6:45 yesterday morning, waiting for the Old Tyme Pottery Store to open at 7am. Am I insane? Probably. But I was there for work-related reasons. I needed 150 coffee mugs, which were on sale for .25cents. The circular that had come out on Wednesday didn't mention there being a limit, and I called over there to specifically ask if there was one because, as I told the girl, I didn't want to drive all the way to Indiana only to find out I was limited to 4 (or whatever). She assured me there was no limit. So you can imagine how pissy I got when the husband and I arrived, each pushing our own cart, and found the sign on the display that stated "limit of 6". SIX??? I don't think so!!! I voiced my displeasure out loud and the poor stock boy that was filling the display cringed in fear and started mumbling, "I-I-I'm s-s-s-sorry, I only s-s-stock the sh-sh-shelves. I-I-I d-d-don't muh-make the rules."
I know, I know. It wasn't his fault. He's a pee-on like everybody else. He offered to page the manager, which he did. And I stood there for several seconds looking at the display dwindle down before my eyes. I looked at the husband and said screw it! We started grabbing cases of these cups (12 to a case). We cleaned the display off. However, my delay in making this decision obviously cost me a few cups. We walked away with 111, I still needed another 39.
The manager never showed up, and nobody else challenged me about buying so many. Perhaps the frightened stock-boy had already spread the word about the rabid woman and not to cross her.
We then headed to Garden Ridge to see if we could find some more to round out my order. While I didn't find exactly the same thing (or even close really), I did purchase 19 more at .74cents each. So having 130 is better than none.
We purchased a newspaper while out, as I wanted to see the stores' ads so that I could plan my attack for Friday morning. The main one I wanted was Wal-mart. Imagine my irritation at not having one. I thought I'd been short-changed. When we got to my s-i-l's house, I looked through her paper, and she too was missing the Wallyworld ad. Grrrr! My friend and friday-morning-shopping-partner called me and informed that she too was missing the Wal-mart ad. What the hell??? I finally called the store and asked what was going on and was informed they'd gone out in Wednesday's paper. Well that's stupid!! What about all the people that only subscribe to the Sunday/holiday papers? I had to make a special trip to the store to pick up an ad.
I sat down and perused everything, and I gotta say, in general, I was disappointed with this years ads. Nothing really jumped out at me as being either a terrific bargain, or something I couldn't live without. They did have a good price on laptops, but we really didn't need to spend $800 on one right now. But I still got up and made it to Wal-mart by 5am when the big sale started. I was in and out in less than 30 minutes, and most of that was just spent waiting for the sale to start. I came away with yet another crock-pot (I think this makes #9 in my collection), and several dvds and cds that were on sale for $5 or less. I went straight back home, fed the dogs, and laid back down for another 90 minutes.
Let the Christmas shopping count-down begin!!
Wednesday, November 21, 2007
Olivia update
After work yesterday, I went home and grabbed Olivia and the husband and headed to the vet's office. While we waited, she was more fascinated with trying to play with the black kitten in the "up for adoption" cage, than she was with any of the other dogs in the waiting area. The kitten was equally fascinated with her.
It took four of us to hold her down while they drew blood from her leg.
They sent us on our merry way, and so far, she's acted perfectly normal... for Olivia that is.
The vet finally called me about an hour ago with the results from the blood work. She said everything was absolutely perfect. She said even "healthy" dogs usually have some slight abnormalities in their results, but she was impressed with how perfect Olivia's were.
Okay, so I'm very happy that there's nothing wrong with her in that respect, and that I guess it shows I'm taking very good care of my children. That's the good news.
The bad news... well, at this point there really isn't any.
The seizure (if that's what it was) could just be a one-time fluke and may never happen again, as we certainly hope so, which is probably why the vet stopped short of actually calling it epilepsy.
For now, we're just going to keep an eye on her, and if it ever happens again, get her to the vet pronto.
So I guess no bad news is good news.
It took four of us to hold her down while they drew blood from her leg.
They sent us on our merry way, and so far, she's acted perfectly normal... for Olivia that is.
The vet finally called me about an hour ago with the results from the blood work. She said everything was absolutely perfect. She said even "healthy" dogs usually have some slight abnormalities in their results, but she was impressed with how perfect Olivia's were.
Okay, so I'm very happy that there's nothing wrong with her in that respect, and that I guess it shows I'm taking very good care of my children. That's the good news.
The bad news... well, at this point there really isn't any.
The seizure (if that's what it was) could just be a one-time fluke and may never happen again, as we certainly hope so, which is probably why the vet stopped short of actually calling it epilepsy.
For now, we're just going to keep an eye on her, and if it ever happens again, get her to the vet pronto.
So I guess no bad news is good news.
And they say romance is dead
If I'm drinking a beverage from a can or glass, then I prefer to use a drinking straw. I keep plenty on hand at home, buying a package of 100 flexi-straws every 3 or 4 months. Last night, as the hubby and I were preparing to eat our dinner, I sat my drink down by my bowl and he asked, "Have you been using the McDonald's straws I brought home and put in the cabinet?"
"Um, no, just the ones out of that big package."
"Oh." He sounded a bit dejected when he said this, but I didn't question it.
He then proceeds to tell me he had grabbed a handful (a bouquet perhaps?) when he was at McD's the other day and the co-worker that was with him questioned why he was taking so many straws. He told him he was taking them home for his wife.
I wasn't sure what I should say, as I don't know why he brought them home because there are already close to 200 of them in the cabinet.
I finally heard him mutter under his breath, "I thought it was romantic."
"Um, no, just the ones out of that big package."
"Oh." He sounded a bit dejected when he said this, but I didn't question it.
He then proceeds to tell me he had grabbed a handful (a bouquet perhaps?) when he was at McD's the other day and the co-worker that was with him questioned why he was taking so many straws. He told him he was taking them home for his wife.
I wasn't sure what I should say, as I don't know why he brought them home because there are already close to 200 of them in the cabinet.
I finally heard him mutter under his breath, "I thought it was romantic."
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
"An Odum County Mystery", chapter 2
"Well Ralph, what time did you finally finish with these people last night?"
"Seven-freaking-o-clock. It was too late to even get the obituary put in the newspaper for today. Actually, we finished making arrangements a little after seven, but after he left, Babbs started boo-hooing and asking if an autopsy was really necessary 'cause she just knew her Momma wouldn't like things being drug out and all the gossip it would cause and boo-hoo-hoo. I told her it was too late, that the medical examiner's office had already done the autopsy and there wasn't nothing I could. I mean, ya know, you'd think the girl'd want to know why her mother died. I think there's something going on there, but I guess we'll just hafta wait an' see."
Katie picked up the clipboard with all the information on it and set about doing her job. Since the visitation wasn't even going to start until tomorrow, followed by the actual service on Friday, there wasn't a big rush to get it done. But since she felt the phone would probably continue to ring off the hook until the woman was buried, why put it off?
Katie turned the computer on and waited for it to boot-up. She sat there thinking over what Ralph had told her, about the daughter's strange reaction to her mother being autopsied. Strange indeed. If George had married Lurlene for her money, as everyone suspected, wouldn't Babbs suspect him of killing her mother to get at the money? You'd think she'd be hopping up and down mad, pointing an accusing finger at him. It was definitely odd that she'd want to down-play her mother's sudden death...
"Seven-freaking-o-clock. It was too late to even get the obituary put in the newspaper for today. Actually, we finished making arrangements a little after seven, but after he left, Babbs started boo-hooing and asking if an autopsy was really necessary 'cause she just knew her Momma wouldn't like things being drug out and all the gossip it would cause and boo-hoo-hoo. I told her it was too late, that the medical examiner's office had already done the autopsy and there wasn't nothing I could. I mean, ya know, you'd think the girl'd want to know why her mother died. I think there's something going on there, but I guess we'll just hafta wait an' see."
Katie picked up the clipboard with all the information on it and set about doing her job. Since the visitation wasn't even going to start until tomorrow, followed by the actual service on Friday, there wasn't a big rush to get it done. But since she felt the phone would probably continue to ring off the hook until the woman was buried, why put it off?
Katie turned the computer on and waited for it to boot-up. She sat there thinking over what Ralph had told her, about the daughter's strange reaction to her mother being autopsied. Strange indeed. If George had married Lurlene for her money, as everyone suspected, wouldn't Babbs suspect him of killing her mother to get at the money? You'd think she'd be hopping up and down mad, pointing an accusing finger at him. It was definitely odd that she'd want to down-play her mother's sudden death...
What I saw at Walmart
I saw something while at Walmart last night, that I never in my wildest imagination thought I'd EVER see, at least, not in that store.
I was looking for new shoe laces, as the ones that came with my new sneakers are sooo very short, I can barely get them tied. While scoping out the shoe laces rack, John suddenly muttered something under his breath. I stood up straight and asked, "huh?".
"That was Susie."
"Susie who?"
"Suh-oo-zee" his hissed, "Kenny's Susie."
Oh, that Susie. "Where?"
He pointed toward the grocery section and said she'd just turned a corner.
Susie is John's former sister-in-law. The former wife of his brother. They went their separate ways over 13 years ago. The last time I ever actually spoke to her was in either January or February of 1994, during the winter olympics, around the time of the Nancy Kerigan/Tonya Harding incident. We'd just moved into our new house and they'd come over for some reason or another. They separated just days after that, divorcing a few months later. The last time I actually ever laid eyes on her was probably 3 or 4 years after that, I saw her at H.Q. I don't think she saw me, but I saw her. She'd put on quite a bit of weight (haven't we all?). Since then I've barely given her a thought.... until last night that is.
You'd have to know this woman to really appreciate this story. She truly enjoyed being a doctor's wife, and let everyone know it. Only the best of everything for her. That's why I couldn't believe I was seeing her in Walmart, of all stores. Eek! What is this world coming to? And she was in the shoe department of all places!! I truly thought I'd never live to see the day she'd lower her standards to shop at anything but Kroger for groceries, and anyplace less than Lazarus for clothing.
Needless to say, I had to see her for myself. We mosied(sp?) back towards the grocery section, and I kept glancing out of the corner of my eye down the aisles, looking for her. I finally saw her. At first I almost didn't recognize her, but upon staring for a moment, finally realized it was indeed.
Her hair was almost completely gray now... wow!, I thought for sure she'd have colored it some shade of reddish-brown (her natural color) and she'd lost most of that weight she'd picked up after the divorce.
We saw her a couple of more times as we finished our shopping. I don't know if she ever saw us or not. We never approached her, she never approached us.
I kind of think if John hadn't been there, I might've done so. I wasn't crazy about the woman when they were married, but she did get crapped on, so to speak, and I feel sorry for her. In hindsight, I realize she wasn't all that bad. There are a lot worse women out there in the world.
I was looking for new shoe laces, as the ones that came with my new sneakers are sooo very short, I can barely get them tied. While scoping out the shoe laces rack, John suddenly muttered something under his breath. I stood up straight and asked, "huh?".
"That was Susie."
"Susie who?"
"Suh-oo-zee" his hissed, "Kenny's Susie."
Oh, that Susie. "Where?"
He pointed toward the grocery section and said she'd just turned a corner.
Susie is John's former sister-in-law. The former wife of his brother. They went their separate ways over 13 years ago. The last time I ever actually spoke to her was in either January or February of 1994, during the winter olympics, around the time of the Nancy Kerigan/Tonya Harding incident. We'd just moved into our new house and they'd come over for some reason or another. They separated just days after that, divorcing a few months later. The last time I actually ever laid eyes on her was probably 3 or 4 years after that, I saw her at H.Q. I don't think she saw me, but I saw her. She'd put on quite a bit of weight (haven't we all?). Since then I've barely given her a thought.... until last night that is.
You'd have to know this woman to really appreciate this story. She truly enjoyed being a doctor's wife, and let everyone know it. Only the best of everything for her. That's why I couldn't believe I was seeing her in Walmart, of all stores. Eek! What is this world coming to? And she was in the shoe department of all places!! I truly thought I'd never live to see the day she'd lower her standards to shop at anything but Kroger for groceries, and anyplace less than Lazarus for clothing.
Needless to say, I had to see her for myself. We mosied(sp?) back towards the grocery section, and I kept glancing out of the corner of my eye down the aisles, looking for her. I finally saw her. At first I almost didn't recognize her, but upon staring for a moment, finally realized it was indeed.
Her hair was almost completely gray now... wow!, I thought for sure she'd have colored it some shade of reddish-brown (her natural color) and she'd lost most of that weight she'd picked up after the divorce.
We saw her a couple of more times as we finished our shopping. I don't know if she ever saw us or not. We never approached her, she never approached us.
I kind of think if John hadn't been there, I might've done so. I wasn't crazy about the woman when they were married, but she did get crapped on, so to speak, and I feel sorry for her. In hindsight, I realize she wasn't all that bad. There are a lot worse women out there in the world.
Drama at our house
What would my life be without drama? Peaceful, if nothing else.
I woke up early this morning, about 3:09 to be exact. I heard the dogs moving about in the other room, but this isn't uncommon for them to start shuffling about in anticipation of me letting them out at 3:30 when the alarm goes off. Sometimes they settle back down, sometimes they take up their positions outside our bedroom door, other times, they get to playing and wrestling with one another. I let them carry on, and dozed off again. Not quite 20 minutes later, I was again awakened by the dogs, or at least, one dog, Bootsy, carrying on and making a racket. It was now 3:27, no point trying to go back to sleep now, so I turned the alarms off before they could start beeping, used the restroom, donned my robe and headed out to the living room. Bootsy still continued to carry on in an odd way.
When she'd woke me a few minutes before, I heard her pawing at the dog crate and just making odd noises. I can't really describe them. She didn't sound like she was in distress, but she just seemed to be panting in an odd way, as she sometimes does when she gets especially excited about something.
When I walked out of the bedroom, the door to the crate was standing wide open, which wasn't unusual. We don't always latch it as sometimes one of them likes to go in there to sleep. But Bootsy was dancing around by the crate door. In the dim light that spilled from the bedroom, I could see Olivia lying on her side, on the floor, against the side of the recliner. At first I didn't think anything of this, and figured Bootsy was just having her fit because Olivia was blocking her path to regain entry to the main part of the room. I flipped on the overhead light and my heart nearly stopped beating. I'm now guessing Bootsy had been trying to wake us up to come help her sissy.
I started screaming for John over and over, just telling him something was wrong, something was wrong with Olivia. At first I didn't even detect any movement, but then saw her breathing was very shallow. She was foaming at the mouth, but otherwise not moving. By now John was kneeling in front of her, and I opened the back door to get the other two dogs out of the way. While they did go outside, they weren't interested in pottying, and stood at the back door, looking in, wanting to come back inside. I ran back to Olivia and asked him if something was stuck in her throat. He opened her mouth and stuck his fingers in and felt around but didn't feel anything amiss. The carpet under her head was just soaking wet from all the drool and foam that had soaked into it. I wondered how long she had been lying there in distress?
Her hind legs were drawn up against her belly and I tried to straighten them one at a time, but she just pulled them back in, whether on purpose or just a reflex I don't know. In all this time she continued to lay still, never raising her head to look at us, never acting as if she knew we were even there. I ran my hand down her side and with that she emptied her bladder all over the carpet. I could only grab a slobber towel lying nearby and lay it on the puddle to soak it up and to catch the rest of what continued to come out. I said "that's it, we're taking her to the vet" and ran to get my phone. I came back in the room dialing the number. The phone rang and went to a recording (which I knew it would, but I needed to get the cell number of the vet that was on call). Even as I was listening to the message, Olivia suddenly stood up and shook it off as if nothing had happened. I took her outside to potty some more. When she came back in she did walk a little sideways for a moment and bump off the wall, then paced around for a while, not seeming to want to lie down.
For the rest of the morning I kept her in her crate except when I took her outside or when she ate. She seems perfectly fine now, but I'm seriously wondering if she doesn't have epilepsy.
I looked canine epilepsy up on-line, and everything they described, of what we witnessed that is, seems to describe her to a "T".
I'm getting ready to call the vet. I don't know if they'll want to do tests on her now that the episode has passed, or wait and see if it happens again. But my goodness, what if it happens while we're at work??? Of course, if it is epilepsy, from what I read, some dogs may only have one seizure their whole life, and nothing else, but then others may have several a day. John is now wondering if she hasn't been having them while we're at work, as maybe that would explain why her crate from time to time is very flooded when we get home. It's always something!!
Just when you think you're about to catch up on some bills, and possibly get a little bit ahead (does that really ever happen???), something like this happens that incurs a big vet bill.
I woke up early this morning, about 3:09 to be exact. I heard the dogs moving about in the other room, but this isn't uncommon for them to start shuffling about in anticipation of me letting them out at 3:30 when the alarm goes off. Sometimes they settle back down, sometimes they take up their positions outside our bedroom door, other times, they get to playing and wrestling with one another. I let them carry on, and dozed off again. Not quite 20 minutes later, I was again awakened by the dogs, or at least, one dog, Bootsy, carrying on and making a racket. It was now 3:27, no point trying to go back to sleep now, so I turned the alarms off before they could start beeping, used the restroom, donned my robe and headed out to the living room. Bootsy still continued to carry on in an odd way.
When she'd woke me a few minutes before, I heard her pawing at the dog crate and just making odd noises. I can't really describe them. She didn't sound like she was in distress, but she just seemed to be panting in an odd way, as she sometimes does when she gets especially excited about something.
When I walked out of the bedroom, the door to the crate was standing wide open, which wasn't unusual. We don't always latch it as sometimes one of them likes to go in there to sleep. But Bootsy was dancing around by the crate door. In the dim light that spilled from the bedroom, I could see Olivia lying on her side, on the floor, against the side of the recliner. At first I didn't think anything of this, and figured Bootsy was just having her fit because Olivia was blocking her path to regain entry to the main part of the room. I flipped on the overhead light and my heart nearly stopped beating. I'm now guessing Bootsy had been trying to wake us up to come help her sissy.
I started screaming for John over and over, just telling him something was wrong, something was wrong with Olivia. At first I didn't even detect any movement, but then saw her breathing was very shallow. She was foaming at the mouth, but otherwise not moving. By now John was kneeling in front of her, and I opened the back door to get the other two dogs out of the way. While they did go outside, they weren't interested in pottying, and stood at the back door, looking in, wanting to come back inside. I ran back to Olivia and asked him if something was stuck in her throat. He opened her mouth and stuck his fingers in and felt around but didn't feel anything amiss. The carpet under her head was just soaking wet from all the drool and foam that had soaked into it. I wondered how long she had been lying there in distress?
Her hind legs were drawn up against her belly and I tried to straighten them one at a time, but she just pulled them back in, whether on purpose or just a reflex I don't know. In all this time she continued to lay still, never raising her head to look at us, never acting as if she knew we were even there. I ran my hand down her side and with that she emptied her bladder all over the carpet. I could only grab a slobber towel lying nearby and lay it on the puddle to soak it up and to catch the rest of what continued to come out. I said "that's it, we're taking her to the vet" and ran to get my phone. I came back in the room dialing the number. The phone rang and went to a recording (which I knew it would, but I needed to get the cell number of the vet that was on call). Even as I was listening to the message, Olivia suddenly stood up and shook it off as if nothing had happened. I took her outside to potty some more. When she came back in she did walk a little sideways for a moment and bump off the wall, then paced around for a while, not seeming to want to lie down.
For the rest of the morning I kept her in her crate except when I took her outside or when she ate. She seems perfectly fine now, but I'm seriously wondering if she doesn't have epilepsy.
I looked canine epilepsy up on-line, and everything they described, of what we witnessed that is, seems to describe her to a "T".
I'm getting ready to call the vet. I don't know if they'll want to do tests on her now that the episode has passed, or wait and see if it happens again. But my goodness, what if it happens while we're at work??? Of course, if it is epilepsy, from what I read, some dogs may only have one seizure their whole life, and nothing else, but then others may have several a day. John is now wondering if she hasn't been having them while we're at work, as maybe that would explain why her crate from time to time is very flooded when we get home. It's always something!!
Just when you think you're about to catch up on some bills, and possibly get a little bit ahead (does that really ever happen???), something like this happens that incurs a big vet bill.
Monday, November 19, 2007
Old people
Old people. I've nothing against them. As a general rule, I tend to get along with them better than young people. But something happened to me while I ran an errand to the post office, and I couldn't help but come back to the office and announce to my co-worker, "Sometimes, I just can't help but feel, that old people..." and here I hesitated as I searched for the right words. She tried to fill in the blank: "... shouldn't be allowed to drive?"
"No. I'm thinking more like: shouldn't be allowed out in public."
I got to the post office, parked my car, and walked towards the front door. An elderly lady was doing the same thing. Had we both kept walking at the pace we'd each set, she'd have reached the door first, in which case she should've opened it and gone on in. Now, if I had reached it before her, I'd have held it open for her and not given it a second thought. Had we reached it at the same time, again, I'd have more than happily held it for her. But that isn't what happened. She should've reached the door before me, but instead stopped a few feet short and then just stood there and watched me approach and seemed to be waiting for me to open it for her. Mind you, this woman wasn't carrying anything in either of her hands, I on the other hand, had some stuff I was taking in. I wasn't loaded down, but I wasn't empty-handed either. As I approached the door, I gave her a side-line look as I reached for the door handle. I held it open and she then proceeded to walk in ahead of me. Thanked me, and then had the audacity to say, "oh, I wasn't waiting for you to open the door for me," yeah, right! "But I do have a bad arm." To which I thought, and what's wrong with your other arm??? I've no doubt I gave her an annoyed look, and I went on into the next room and up to the service counter while she went to her PO box.
I was the only person at the counter, and gave the clerk 3 US flag applications. She went in the back to find the flags. In the meantime, a man came through the door, telling me right off the bat to "ring the bell, get some service out here". I never turned around to look at who was coming in, but simply replied, "I'm already being waited on." I mean, how rude to just assume that I've been standing there with my thumb up my butt waiting for service. So he stands right behind me and starts humming. Then he stops and says, "I guess you're thinking I shouldn't quit my day job." What was I going to say, "you're right"? Or maybe I should lie to the man and tell him he's a wonderful hummer? Instead I just gave a fake chuckle, and continued to wait, still not having turned to look and see who he was. Now he says, "Oh, the girl (that would be me) is laughing at me." Now he steps forward and is practically against my right arm. Thinking that perhaps he was one of the "Liars Club" members that hangs around the funeral home that had perhaps recognized me and was just trying to have a little fun at my expense, I finally looked sideways at him. Nope, I had no idea who he was. Just another old fart.
Then he asks me, "Do you live around here?"
Me: NO
Old man: Where do you live?
Me: Louisville
Old man: Then what are you doing in LaGrange?
Me (a very annoyed me!): I work here
About this time, the clerk came from the back with three boxes in her arms. The outside of each box is stamped with Phoenix Industries, or something like that. Now the old fart proceeds to start reading the writing on the side of the box, outloud, for anybody and everybody to hear (had there been anybody else present). I couldn't help but wonder, if the box had had Fredricks of Hollywood, or the Dildo Company printed on it, would he still have been reading it out loud?
The old man just really annoyed me to no end. I don't know if he just thought he was being friendly, or if he's just always acts as rude as he did then.
"No. I'm thinking more like: shouldn't be allowed out in public."
I got to the post office, parked my car, and walked towards the front door. An elderly lady was doing the same thing. Had we both kept walking at the pace we'd each set, she'd have reached the door first, in which case she should've opened it and gone on in. Now, if I had reached it before her, I'd have held it open for her and not given it a second thought. Had we reached it at the same time, again, I'd have more than happily held it for her. But that isn't what happened. She should've reached the door before me, but instead stopped a few feet short and then just stood there and watched me approach and seemed to be waiting for me to open it for her. Mind you, this woman wasn't carrying anything in either of her hands, I on the other hand, had some stuff I was taking in. I wasn't loaded down, but I wasn't empty-handed either. As I approached the door, I gave her a side-line look as I reached for the door handle. I held it open and she then proceeded to walk in ahead of me. Thanked me, and then had the audacity to say, "oh, I wasn't waiting for you to open the door for me," yeah, right! "But I do have a bad arm." To which I thought, and what's wrong with your other arm??? I've no doubt I gave her an annoyed look, and I went on into the next room and up to the service counter while she went to her PO box.
I was the only person at the counter, and gave the clerk 3 US flag applications. She went in the back to find the flags. In the meantime, a man came through the door, telling me right off the bat to "ring the bell, get some service out here". I never turned around to look at who was coming in, but simply replied, "I'm already being waited on." I mean, how rude to just assume that I've been standing there with my thumb up my butt waiting for service. So he stands right behind me and starts humming. Then he stops and says, "I guess you're thinking I shouldn't quit my day job." What was I going to say, "you're right"? Or maybe I should lie to the man and tell him he's a wonderful hummer? Instead I just gave a fake chuckle, and continued to wait, still not having turned to look and see who he was. Now he says, "Oh, the girl (that would be me) is laughing at me." Now he steps forward and is practically against my right arm. Thinking that perhaps he was one of the "Liars Club" members that hangs around the funeral home that had perhaps recognized me and was just trying to have a little fun at my expense, I finally looked sideways at him. Nope, I had no idea who he was. Just another old fart.
Then he asks me, "Do you live around here?"
Me: NO
Old man: Where do you live?
Me: Louisville
Old man: Then what are you doing in LaGrange?
Me (a very annoyed me!): I work here
About this time, the clerk came from the back with three boxes in her arms. The outside of each box is stamped with Phoenix Industries, or something like that. Now the old fart proceeds to start reading the writing on the side of the box, outloud, for anybody and everybody to hear (had there been anybody else present). I couldn't help but wonder, if the box had had Fredricks of Hollywood, or the Dildo Company printed on it, would he still have been reading it out loud?
The old man just really annoyed me to no end. I don't know if he just thought he was being friendly, or if he's just always acts as rude as he did then.
Why am I so ____ about these things?
Why am I so _______ about these things?
See if you can figure out what word goes into the blank.
Balancing my checkbook.
Toilet seats.
Toilet paper on the roll.
Loading the dishwasher.
Putting the clean dishes away.
Handwashing.
Now can you fill in the blank with the word I had in mind?
I'll follow up in a couple of days with the correct answer, and where I was going with this topic.
See if you can figure out what word goes into the blank.
Balancing my checkbook.
Toilet seats.
Toilet paper on the roll.
Loading the dishwasher.
Putting the clean dishes away.
Handwashing.
Now can you fill in the blank with the word I had in mind?
I'll follow up in a couple of days with the correct answer, and where I was going with this topic.
Weekend in review
You might've noticed I didn't get my 2nd chapter blogged last week on the Odum Co. Mystery. Sorry, but we were just busy, busy, busy at work last week and I didn't have time to put my imagination and fingers to work at the same time. Hopefully things will be a little slower this week and I can get a couple of chapters done. Bear with me.
Did I mention last Friday that I had dropped my new "step-child" Zack off at his owners on Thursday evening? When I had dropped him off, I not only left the typed-out instructions from the vet, but I verbally went over them, TWICE! I thought I made things clear and that they understood what should and should not be done over the next several days. Apparently I wasn't clear enough, or they just didn't understand, because instructions were not followed. More on that in a moment.
Saturday was the final day of classes at the Luci Ctr. until next spring. From here on out, it will just be about stable management. As I wasn't able to be there that afternoon for the chores, I signed up for the earlier classes, oh my, what a different experience from the usual class I partake in. The muscles in the back of my upper arms are aching still, from the different way of having to help hold the riders on their horses. The 2nd class had some scary, tense moments. The rider is totally non-verbal, with a host of disabilities, and after about 30 or 40 minutes of riding, he just suddenly became very frustrated and started flailing his arms and throwing his body forward and backward, nearly slamming his helmet against the horse's rump and neck. It took a tremendous effort for me and the other side-walker to keep him on the horse's back, and to keep him from actually slamming his head on the horse until the instructor could come over and assist him in dismounting. I was informed afterwards that that wasn't even one of his worse fits... I can't imagine worse! My heart was racing, #1) for the child's safety, #2) for my own safety, #3) for the horse's safety, and #4) just fearing that the horse would freak out (as I so desperately wanted to do). But I have to say, these horses are so wonderfully trained, and selected for their calm demeanor and unflappableness (is that a word?). From the moment the girl that was leading him stopped, Emray the horse stood stock-still and never flinched. After that class was over, it made the 3rd class of the day seem like a walk in the park.
I am delighted to report that Sampson, the horse that caused us such drama from the previous week is doing MUCH better. He's confined to a stall for now, only allowed out for a few minutes each day to graze, but he's bright-eyed and alert. Every chance I got in between classes, I was either in his stall loving on him, or standing just outside of it. What a sweetheart of a horse! He never hesitated to come to me, and would stand there either licking my hand like a faithful dog or nibbling with his lips at my glove or the cuff of my jacket. They had saved the tumors that were removed from him in a ziploc baggy to show us (not that any of us really wanted to see them). The largest one was about the size of a tennis ball, with another, smaller one, and several strands of fibers from where they'd adhered themselves to the other organs. Blech!!
My side of the family celebrated Thanksgiving that evening. Good food abounded, but I was so exhausted from being on my feet for over 5 hours, that we left early and I went home and passed out.
Now, for Sunday...
I arrived at Zack's house at 10:30. One of the instructions I'd left his owners with was that Zack was only to go outside on a leash for the next 5-7 days, so that his incision had time to heal. He wasn't allowed out in the backyard to run loose. So when I arrived,where was Zack? Running loose in the back yard. Right away, I had a sense of gloom and doom. His owner walked in the house with me, Zack followed. I asked how the past few days had been since Zack had been back home. Dick said Friday had been perfect. Saturday, they were ready to return the dog to "G" (again!). The dog had gone outside Saturday morning and refused to come in the rest of the day. He'd come halfway through the doggy door, then back out of it. One time Dick got him by the collar, and the dog drug him threw the door. All day long the dog refused to come inside. By nightfall, it was cold outside, the dog was shivering, and still refusing to come inside. They called some neighbors to assist, but they couldn't get him in either. Finally when they'd just about given up, Zack finally came in on his own, shivering from the cold. Sunday morning he'd gone back outside and again refused to come in, until I showed up and he followed me inside. His owners were getting very frustrated to say the least, but I was very frustrated that they hadn't followed their instructions of taking him out on a leash. Dick finally broke the news to me that they didn't want Zack to go to obedience school. I'd already mailed their check and application in to Shamrock Acres!! Darn these people!! He said he didn't care if Zack knew how to sit, stay, or come when he was called (huh???). He just wanted him to walk on the leash and get in and out of the car. Good grief!! I thought I'd made it clear to them last week why Zack needed to go to class. He needed to learn he was the dog and that they were in charge (at least in theory, because we all know that theses dogs have us wrapped around their little paws). I took a deep breath, said, "fine, I'll call Linda on Monday and have her mail your check back to you." I was biting my tongue, fighting the urge to tell him what a foolish old man he was. Foolish for the wishy-washy way they dealt with this dog, foolish for the nearly 1/2 dozen times they'd returned the dog to G, then gotten it back, foolish for having gotten such a large pup/dog at their age (he's 88, she's 83) and with the difficulty they have getting around. Foolish, foolish, foolish!!
I finally got a leash on Zack and went outside to work with him. We walked around the property. He doesn't exactly walk nicely beside you, but at least he's not trying to drag you around. I opened the back of their station wagon and Zack hopped right in. I got him out, and asked him to get back in again, which he did. Out again, I took him for another walk around the property and two more times had him get in/out of the car without any problems. I finally had Dick come out, handed him the leash and asked him to put Zack in the car. Zack went in without any problem. Dick was thrilled. We headed back to the house, and Dick promptly fell trying to go up the couple of steps to the house. He didn't hurt himself, but it was just this kind of unsteadiness (and his wife is even worse!) that made me think they didn't need to have this kind of dog. Zack balked about going in the house, backing away from the door, so I pulled that choker up behind his ears and tugged, and he finally walked in. His owners were simply thrilled, paid me well for my time. But apparently my services are no longer needed, at least, not right now. I told them, repeatedly, to take the dog out on a leash, take the dog with him in the car every morning when he drove down to the road to get the newspaper, and to call me if they had any more problems. I have a feeling my instructions won't be followed. And I have a bad feeling that the dog will either end up at G's again (for the final time, as she won't give him back again) or the dog will end up dying, whether from starving itself or freezing to death because it won't come in the house, or from eventually running away. I hope it works out, but I have my doubts.
Did I mention last Friday that I had dropped my new "step-child" Zack off at his owners on Thursday evening? When I had dropped him off, I not only left the typed-out instructions from the vet, but I verbally went over them, TWICE! I thought I made things clear and that they understood what should and should not be done over the next several days. Apparently I wasn't clear enough, or they just didn't understand, because instructions were not followed. More on that in a moment.
Saturday was the final day of classes at the Luci Ctr. until next spring. From here on out, it will just be about stable management. As I wasn't able to be there that afternoon for the chores, I signed up for the earlier classes, oh my, what a different experience from the usual class I partake in. The muscles in the back of my upper arms are aching still, from the different way of having to help hold the riders on their horses. The 2nd class had some scary, tense moments. The rider is totally non-verbal, with a host of disabilities, and after about 30 or 40 minutes of riding, he just suddenly became very frustrated and started flailing his arms and throwing his body forward and backward, nearly slamming his helmet against the horse's rump and neck. It took a tremendous effort for me and the other side-walker to keep him on the horse's back, and to keep him from actually slamming his head on the horse until the instructor could come over and assist him in dismounting. I was informed afterwards that that wasn't even one of his worse fits... I can't imagine worse! My heart was racing, #1) for the child's safety, #2) for my own safety, #3) for the horse's safety, and #4) just fearing that the horse would freak out (as I so desperately wanted to do). But I have to say, these horses are so wonderfully trained, and selected for their calm demeanor and unflappableness (is that a word?). From the moment the girl that was leading him stopped, Emray the horse stood stock-still and never flinched. After that class was over, it made the 3rd class of the day seem like a walk in the park.
I am delighted to report that Sampson, the horse that caused us such drama from the previous week is doing MUCH better. He's confined to a stall for now, only allowed out for a few minutes each day to graze, but he's bright-eyed and alert. Every chance I got in between classes, I was either in his stall loving on him, or standing just outside of it. What a sweetheart of a horse! He never hesitated to come to me, and would stand there either licking my hand like a faithful dog or nibbling with his lips at my glove or the cuff of my jacket. They had saved the tumors that were removed from him in a ziploc baggy to show us (not that any of us really wanted to see them). The largest one was about the size of a tennis ball, with another, smaller one, and several strands of fibers from where they'd adhered themselves to the other organs. Blech!!
My side of the family celebrated Thanksgiving that evening. Good food abounded, but I was so exhausted from being on my feet for over 5 hours, that we left early and I went home and passed out.
Now, for Sunday...
I arrived at Zack's house at 10:30. One of the instructions I'd left his owners with was that Zack was only to go outside on a leash for the next 5-7 days, so that his incision had time to heal. He wasn't allowed out in the backyard to run loose. So when I arrived,where was Zack? Running loose in the back yard. Right away, I had a sense of gloom and doom. His owner walked in the house with me, Zack followed. I asked how the past few days had been since Zack had been back home. Dick said Friday had been perfect. Saturday, they were ready to return the dog to "G" (again!). The dog had gone outside Saturday morning and refused to come in the rest of the day. He'd come halfway through the doggy door, then back out of it. One time Dick got him by the collar, and the dog drug him threw the door. All day long the dog refused to come inside. By nightfall, it was cold outside, the dog was shivering, and still refusing to come inside. They called some neighbors to assist, but they couldn't get him in either. Finally when they'd just about given up, Zack finally came in on his own, shivering from the cold. Sunday morning he'd gone back outside and again refused to come in, until I showed up and he followed me inside. His owners were getting very frustrated to say the least, but I was very frustrated that they hadn't followed their instructions of taking him out on a leash. Dick finally broke the news to me that they didn't want Zack to go to obedience school. I'd already mailed their check and application in to Shamrock Acres!! Darn these people!! He said he didn't care if Zack knew how to sit, stay, or come when he was called (huh???). He just wanted him to walk on the leash and get in and out of the car. Good grief!! I thought I'd made it clear to them last week why Zack needed to go to class. He needed to learn he was the dog and that they were in charge (at least in theory, because we all know that theses dogs have us wrapped around their little paws). I took a deep breath, said, "fine, I'll call Linda on Monday and have her mail your check back to you." I was biting my tongue, fighting the urge to tell him what a foolish old man he was. Foolish for the wishy-washy way they dealt with this dog, foolish for the nearly 1/2 dozen times they'd returned the dog to G, then gotten it back, foolish for having gotten such a large pup/dog at their age (he's 88, she's 83) and with the difficulty they have getting around. Foolish, foolish, foolish!!
I finally got a leash on Zack and went outside to work with him. We walked around the property. He doesn't exactly walk nicely beside you, but at least he's not trying to drag you around. I opened the back of their station wagon and Zack hopped right in. I got him out, and asked him to get back in again, which he did. Out again, I took him for another walk around the property and two more times had him get in/out of the car without any problems. I finally had Dick come out, handed him the leash and asked him to put Zack in the car. Zack went in without any problem. Dick was thrilled. We headed back to the house, and Dick promptly fell trying to go up the couple of steps to the house. He didn't hurt himself, but it was just this kind of unsteadiness (and his wife is even worse!) that made me think they didn't need to have this kind of dog. Zack balked about going in the house, backing away from the door, so I pulled that choker up behind his ears and tugged, and he finally walked in. His owners were simply thrilled, paid me well for my time. But apparently my services are no longer needed, at least, not right now. I told them, repeatedly, to take the dog out on a leash, take the dog with him in the car every morning when he drove down to the road to get the newspaper, and to call me if they had any more problems. I have a feeling my instructions won't be followed. And I have a bad feeling that the dog will either end up at G's again (for the final time, as she won't give him back again) or the dog will end up dying, whether from starving itself or freezing to death because it won't come in the house, or from eventually running away. I hope it works out, but I have my doubts.
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