Cute Knut

Have any of you been following the ongoing saga of Cute Knut the orphaned polar bear at the Berlin, Germany zoo??
There's an update on his progress it seems almost daily (at least a couple of times a week anyways) on the news.
Knut was rejected at birth by his mother, and has been handraised by a zoo handler since early December.
While he looks so adorable, cute and cuddly now, his little bear claws are already looking quite vicious. I can't imagine how wicked they'll look when he's full grown.
If you'd like to see the youtube video of Knut, click this link.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zZLKb_5S21E

She's HERE!!

At long last, after 9 months of anticipation (actually more than 2 years if you count from the time they started trying!), my bestest friend(s) & neighbor(s) finally gave birth to her (their) firstborn over the weekend.

Mia Katharine Worth entered the world on 04/28/07 at 6:55a.m.

7 lbs, 2 oz., she's a cutey!!

Mom, Dad, & Baby are all doing fine!

Thank you Marty & Jilli for the privilege of hanging around the waiting room with the grandparents. And for the honor of being among the first to hold her. Not counting doctor/nurses, only her daddy, mommy and grandmas were ahead of me... I even beat out the grandfathers!

It's amazing how a new baby can bring out the emotions! I cried (not uncontrollable sobbing, just a few tears) in the delivery room when it was all over, I cried again after I got home and laid down in the hammock, I cried again that evening when I went back to the hospital, then I cried again last evening. Oh wait a minute, that last time was because neighbor Leslie hurt my feelings by not asking me to watch her toddler the other day, instead getting a perfect stranger to watch her child, despite the fact that I have been begging to watch her for over a year. Okay, that one doesn't count as emotional tears from the new baby. Regardless, I've been a basket case this weekend.

Life is good!

More terrible two's

Well, one of my children, (personally, I suspect the youngest), is most likely going to start getting pretty fat around her mid-section soon, if she keeps up her antics of late.
The terrible 2's, which I had hoped was a short-lived phase that was behind us, is running full force, and I fear will last until next March when she finally turns 3.
She has now made pulling all the towels/blankets off the top of the crate a daily habit, and usually more than once a day if we're not watching. Dish towels are still fair game if left within her reach in the kitchen.
In addition to the bag of Pupperoni she (or one of her accomplices) got off the counter last week and polished off the contents, she helped herself to two bags of potato chips and a bag of dinner rolls (the only good thing about any of this is that she's kept me from eating them and gaining weight), the potato chips & bread made her thirsty I suppose, so she knocked a gallon jug (3/4 full) of water off the counter and flooded the kitchen floor. She's had some seriously mushy poop ever since.
The TV section of the newspaper isn't safe in our house either. Two weeks in a row she has turned it into confetti. While I'll agree with her that there really isn't anything worth watching on TV much anymore, shredding the newspaper all over the house isn't the way to get the point across.
Oh yes, and in addition to the floor lamp she broke, she has knocked over the replacement lamp twice, fortunately only breaking the bulb once.
Bootsy has lately taken up voluntary residence in the crate. I don't know if it's because she feels some guilt, or just feels it's safer to be in there away from the flying debris.
Sign me,
Frazzled

This blog is Rated R

I've had a secret desire for the past several years that has gone unfulfilled. Until last night that is...

I've wanted Chuck in my life for probably 20 years or more, but I never had Chuck. I've often gazed longingly at Chuck, sometimes touching Chuck, holding Chuck in my hand, wishing I could make Chuck mine.


Last night I could stand it no more. I would not be denied. Chuck would be mine! I met up with Chuck at the store. We left together. I was meeting friends and the husband for dinner, so I left Chuck in the backseat of the car until I got home. I then grabbed Chuck and hurried in the house, anxious to try Chuck on for size.


I love my Chuck! Never again will I be without Chuck. Never I say!! Never!!! Not even my husband of nearly 19 years can come between me and Chuck.


By now you are probably wondering who is this mystery Chuck I speak of. Of course I'm going to tell, I'll even post Chuck's picture.






This isn't really my pair of Chuck's, but a reasonable likeness.
Mine are pink high-tops, and have a plaid interior. I love them so!!
There was a pair of too cute plaid Chucks that I wanted, but they weren't in my size. **sniff**
My Chuck's were on clearance for $19.00, and I got an additional 50% off, bringing them down to the amazing low price of $9.50. Woo-hoo! How could I not fulfill my desire at that price??
This blog is rated R because my Chucks ROCK!!

Blah

I feel blah today.
From time to time I wake up with a scratchy throat, but unless I'm truly coming down with something, it's usually gone within an hour or so.
So when I woke up with one of my scratchy throat mornings, I didn't give it much thought. But here it is almost 11am, and it's still hanging with me. I'm truly unhappy!
I'm hoping it's something related to allergies, because I really don't want to be sick right now.
One of my nearest and dearest friends is expecting her first child on Saturday (if not sooner), and I desparately want to be at the hospital. If I'm sick, then that's not an option. For that matter, if I'm sick, I wouldn't want to set foot in her house for a while, and that would truly bum me out!!!
Go away scratchy throat, go away!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Zoning in...

I got a phone call today from someone from my past. It really kind of blew me away, as I had just been thinking about that person a few hours before.
I worked with this girl for a short time about 6 or 7 years ago, at my former job. After she left, we kept in touch for a while, and when I started working at the funeral home, we were both excited, as she worked just two blocks away. We envisioned lunches together and seeing other more than once or twice a year. Needless to say, in the four years I've been here, I've seen her once, maybe twice, but it's been probably 2 1/2 or 3 years since we last saw each other or talked. So much for working nearby! I've continued to send her Christmas cards over the years, although I never received one in return. There are a lot of people on my list that don't reciprocate, yet I keep them on my list.
So out of the blue she calls me today. She works for some company in Louisville now. Guess if we'd kept in touch, I'd have known she wasn't two blocks away anymore. She's also moved since we last spoke, so it's a wonder she was still getting my Christmas cards. But I now have her new address... guess I should've thought to get her new phone number. oops.
Oh well, I'm glad she zoned in on my brainwaves today and called me. It's sometimes nice to hear voices from our past.

I fear...

I fear I'm becoming one of those people whose habit of always brushing their hair totally annoys me.
I've not cut my hair since at least January (if not longer), and while it's not what the average person would consider long (or even medium length), by my standards, it's long. It's making me crazy! It requires brushing... hate that! However, no gel, mousse, or hairspray is required. It's incredibly soft to the touch, but I feel like I'm wearing weights on my head. I'm now having to carry a hairbrush around in my purse... REALLY HATE THAT!!!... and I find myself having to brush it periodically throughout the day, to get it to lay back down. Rather ironic seeing as how my normal hairstyle is to make it stand straight up on end.
So by now you are probably wondering, "why don't you just cut it?"
I've threatened to, trust me. Actually, I've just been kind of lazy about it of late. I thought I'd go until at least we opened the swimming pool up. If I thought it were long enough to put in a ponytail by then, I'd go on and let it grow (at least, 'til St. Baldrick's next March), but I don't foresee a ponytail by early June.
In the meantime, you can just call me "Shaggy".

Oh no, B.O.!

Okay, I have to admit something here... I stink. But it's not what you might be thinking.
I spent some time out in the sun Saturday afternoon, and soaked up some rays, which have left me a mottled mix of brown, red, really red, almost-purple, and my usual pasty white. An all-over, even tan (or burn) is apparently not an option for me.
Anyway, while I did have some cold-chills that evening, I've been fine ever since. Only problem is that now I stink. Seriously, I can smell my burnt skin.
I've kept lotion &/or the cooling blue gel stuff on it non-stop. I've showered twice since then, and also washed off with cold cloths several times since then also. I use anti-persperant. And yet I can smell, what can only be described as "cooked skin". **blech**
This really isn't that bad of a burn, as sunburns go. Certainly I've had much worse. So why does my skin stink so? This is a first for me. If I offend anyone that passes by me, I apologize.

Have you missed me???

Have you missed me this week? Considering my absence, you might've thought I was on vacation. I wish! But no, we've just been sooooo incredibly busy at work, I've not had time to blog. I've barely had time to check emails. Things are finally starting to return to normal around here, I think, I hope!
There are so many things I've wanted to blog about, but haven't had the time. Now that I've finally got some time, I can't remember half of what was on my mind that seemed so important. Signs of an over-worked, over-stressed soul.
I did manage to log in 12 miles of walking between Sunday & Wednesday, that seems to be my only relaxation anymore, pounding the pavement with my girlfriends.
Okay, so on to other things, random thoughts, and miscellaneous stuff...
Why is it acceptable in our society for girls to refer to their female friends as girlfriends, and nobody gives it another thought? But not acceptable for guys to call their male friends boyfriends without it raising some eyebrows?
I enjoy my walk-time, whether it's with one other girl, or half dozen. If there are multiple guys walking with us, that's okay too. But somehow, when it's only one guy and multiple girls, the conversations suddenly become stilted. Or at least it seems that way to me. I suddenly feel like we're not free to say what's on our mind, whether it's about girl-stuff, our home-life, our jobs or whatever. The whole fabric of our conversations just changes when there's a man present. I'm not really complaining, I just wish that when 1 guy joins us, that another guy would also, if for no other reason so they can chat amongst themselves about guy-stuff.
Okay, so maybe you're wondering what it is we girls talk about when it's just us. Oh my!, the topics do vary... from food (whether what we like to eat or to what we cooked for dinner) to our diets (or lack thereof), to our children, whether it's 2-legged or 4-legged, our hubbies, our health, our jobs, and one of our most recent topics: toilet paper. That particular discussion lasted for at least a half mile. And it wasn't even about replacing empty rolls or making it hang the correct way on the roller. No, it was about what brands get the job done and which ones leave "residue" behind on our behinds. And our fear of going to the OBGYN and having dingle-berries from crappy toilet paper (pun intended). Why do we even stress about this? We know those particular doctors have seen worse, and who hasn't had a dingle berry at some point or another in their life? And if someone comments or emails me and tells me they haven't, I will call them a liar.
Sometimes we re-hash the same topics over and over, but that's okay. We let each other ramble on, even if we've heard it a dozen times already. It's therapy for us, and if it helps one another just to vent, then that's okay, we listen, because we know that eventually, we're going to need their ears/shoulders.
Tomorrow is the kick-off for Derby festivities, with Thunder over Louisville. **yawn** I've ZERO! interest. I know I'll have to tranquilize my kids late in the afternoon to help take the edge off of their anxiety when the fireworks start. Even though we're miles from downtown, they can still be heard, and even felt at times, and it scares my dogs too death! I detest the two weeks leading up to derby. It would be a good time to take a two-week vacation.
The weather looks to be absolutely GORGEOUS this weekend. I have big plans to lie about in the hammock.
I hope you all have a great weekend!!

Terrible Two's

My youngest child recently turned two years old, and I dare say, she has got a horrible case of "the terrible two's!"
She has been into EVERYTHING of late!! Just in the past 7 days, she's done the following:
Twice, she's pulled the entire stash of dog blankets/towels down off the top of the crate and scattered them around the room. She's gotten into my laundry basket of clean clothes and twice pulled my pink outfit out and drug it around the room, thus filling it with dog hair and thus causing me to keep re-washing it... yeah, yeah, I know what you're thinking: if I'd put the laundry away, she wouldn't be able to get to it. Ah, who asked you!?!??!?!
I came home the other day to find she'd gotten a pouch of photographs from someplace and had them out in the middle of the floor. Fortunately, they weren't harmed.
If she can find an ink pen, it's fair game. John came home the other day and she had pulled the clicky-thingy off the top of one of his pens and was walking around with the little button sticking out of her mouth. I guess she wanted us to push her button.
This morning, she had found a gallon-size ziplock bag from someplace (I can't even fathom where), and had chewed off the little red zipper mechanism. This is actually the second ziplock bag she's gotten a hold of in the past week.
She got a tube of chapstick off the table John had left out. Fortunately, I caught her with it before she'd had a chance to chew it up or apply it to her own lips.
She chewed up some coupons... I guess that's her way of telling me I've fallen behind in my coupon-clipping.
John came home to find she (or one of the kids) had gotten the jumbo sized bag of Pupperoni's off the kitchen counter, eaten the contents in the bag, and proceeded to shred the bag up around the house.
I was trying to put her in the crate yesterday, after Eliott's trips to the vet, but she didn't want to go in. As she stood in the middle of the living room, I blocked her exit, but she was very determined that I not catch her, so she created her own exit. She lept over the table that sat (notice I'm using past tense terms) between the recliners, and knocked the floor lamp that sat behind it over, totally killing the lamp. Repairing it wasn't an option. All the duct tape in the world wouldn't have held it together.
Oh yes, and last but not least, she's developed quite the dish-towel fetish. If a dish towel is left lying on the kitchen counter, it's fair game. So I absolutely have to make sure I place the towel up on the shelf in front of the kitchen window.
Terrible two's indeed!!

Foul ball

This darned weather! Arrghh!, I wish it would make up it's mind if it's going to be winter, spring or summer. This nice-one-day, crappy-they-next just doesn't cut it for me.
We had plans to go to the Louisville Bats game last night and take Olivia for "dog day in the park", but it just didn't happen. And after everything I went through to get the tickets (long story for another blog), they ended up going to waste. **poop!!**
The weather was so very nasty looking when I arrived home last night. The husband was just itching to go to the firehouse and stand-by, "just in case" a run came in during the storm. We both felt that the game would most likely be cancelled... my goodness, what with the high winds, heavy rain and let's not forget the hail that was falling, who would want to play in that mess?
So he went to the firehouse and I stayed behind, staring glumly out the window at the angry skies.
Of course, long about 6:30 +/-, the storm passed, the skies cleared, the sun came out and it was actually a very nice evening out. We could've made it to the game after all. But of course the husband didn't come home 'til around 9:30, and not because he was busy making fire runs, but just because he was being a butt and probably knew if he did come home, I'd insist we go to the game.
Oh well, there's always next year....

Something for you to chew on...

Certainly, we'd all like to keep our own teeth, throughout our life instead of having false ones. But sometimes we don't always get what we want. Whether from neglecting our dental care or perhaps due to an accident, many of us will end up with, if not a full set of false teeth, at least a partial set of falsies.
For those of you that have them, or feel you'll probably end up with them eventually, have you ever asked yourself this: when I die, do I want my false teeth to be "in place" or left out?
Seriously! Give it some thought. If you haven't already made your funeral arrangements, at least make sure your next of kin know which you'd prefer so that when they make your arrangements they can tell the funeral director to make sure the teeth either left in or removed. And if you have already made your arrangements, you might want to consider calling your funeral home and having them make a notation on the front of your file your desires.
You might wonder why I bring all this up. Well, don't just assume that your teeth will be put in their proper place (in your mouth) when you're being prepped for viewing. Sometimes they get put in, sometimes they get left out. I'm not saying it's intentional one way or the other. It just happens. I can't tell you the number of times I've opened up a bag of belongings that accompanies a casketed-body only to find a set of false teeth grinning up at me from the bottom of the bag. EEEK!!! and Yuck!!
While I personally prefer cremation, if for any reason the person(s) that survive me should decide to have a funeral for me instead of direct cremation, and should I happen to have false teeth, please, Please, PUH-LEEZE! make sure my teeth are in my mouth!!!!!!!!!!!

Eliott has spoken

For those of you that are animal lovers, or at the very least, a pet owner, have you ever wished that your 4-legged friend could speak? I mean really speak, you know, English, so that we could converse with them, and they could tell us what is on their minds or what ails them.
I no longer wish for an English-speaking pet. Eliott spoke to me in a way this morning that spoke volumes and I didn't need a translator to tell me what the problem was.
When I got up at 3:30 to take my k-9 kids out, Eliott came limping down the hall and stopped in front of me, holding his right front paw up. I didn't have my glasses on, the light was dim, and I was still half asleep. It looked like it could've been a little swollen, but I wasn't sure. He seemed to be alright when I took him out for a potty break, so I dismissed it from my mind.
When I got up again at 6:20, he was wrestling with Bootsy in the living room. Suddenly he let out a loud YELP and instantly started limping again. I broke up the rough play and stopped to examine him. This time I could tell his "ankle" was definitely swollen. Make that, VERY swollen. While Olivia was eating her breakfast, Eliott walked up to me with a most pitiful expression on his face and held the injured paw up, pawing at the air in front of me as if to say, "Mommy, it hurts! Make it all better." He was breaking my heart!!
Once all the kids had eaten, I put Livvie in the crate so it was one less dog to goad him into rough-housing while I showered. I put on dirty clothes from earlier in the week, no point in getting dressed for work, only to get covered in dog hair at the vets office.
I loaded Eliott up in the car and was at the vet's office before they even opened. I sat on the bumper of the car with Eliott lying in the back of my suv while we waited, and again he gave me a most pitiful look and again he kept holding his paw up as if he wanted me to kiss it and make it all better.
Once the vet arrived, he could see, even from several feet away that the foot was indeed swollen. He had very recently had a hernia operation, and with my bad back, neither of us felt we should try lifting the 140-pound dog. As his assistant wouldn't be in 'til 9:30, and he already had appointments scheduled, he asked me to come back at 10. So I loaded Eliott back in the car and drove back home to wait. I attempted to put an ice pack on his paw, but he wanted no part of that. Instead, he just kept putting his paw on me, wanting some of mommy's t.l.c., so I rubbed it until he fell asleep next to me.
Ten a.m. I loaded him back into the car, drove back to the vet's office, and it took every bit of strength that I, the vet, and his assistant had to hold Eliott up with his paw on the x-ray table. Needless to say, my back is paying the price right now. Once the film was developed, it was determined that nothing was broken... thank goodness!... but that he had most likely been stepped on by one of the other dogs and deeply bruised. We were sent home with a bottle of pills for pain and inflammation. Where is the bottle of pills I need for my nerves???
Now that it's all said and done, I'm worn out!
So, for all the times I've ever wished that my kids could actually speak to me, I now know that they have been speaking to me all along. I just have to look and listen to them.

Uncle Sam

Ah yes, it's that time of year once again, when everyone does the mad scramble to get the taxes done by April 15th. Relax folks, you have two extra days this year, procrastinate all you want!
We normally have ours done by mid-February, but the past two or three years, we seem to keep getting later and later. We finally had ours done last night, the longest we've ever waited.
I just don't understand how some people can wait 'til the last day. I couldn't stand it!
While we were sitting there having ours worked on, our preparer took another call and we couldn't help but overhear the conversation. The person on the other end of the line owed over $5000! I say: Five-Thousand-Dollars!!!!!!!!!! Yikes!! If our preparer ever told us we owed that much, they may as well go on and call the medical examiners office, as I'm sure I'd fall over dead from a heart attack.
As it is we owe. We owe every year. It's the pits! It's not that I want some big hefty refund... no, I'm not into giving Uncle Sam a free loan, but still, having to pay every year just bites the big one.
And of course Uncle Sam did it to us (and everyone for that matter) this year by now requiring receipts for every little donation. Who asks a girl scout for a receipt for cookies?? Or when dumping change in the fireman's boot at an intersection during Crusade, who asks for a receipt?
Obviously, we're going to have to start doing just that. We weren't able to take our tax deductions, which are usually nickel & dime things here and there, because we had no receipts for these things. Same goes for church. If you put money in the collection plate each week, you'd better have a receipt.
Our new solution... I've sat a large, 2-gallon jar on the kitchen counter, and every single receipt we bring home from now on (trust me, we're going to start getting receipts for EVERYTHING!) is going in that jar until the next tax-time. They want receipts, I'll give them receipts.

Cell phone etiquette

As I skimmed through the Sunday paper, the headline of the "Miss Manners" column caught my eye, so I stopped to read what it was about.
The headline read: "Hang up, guilt! Cell-phone owner is not obliged to take every call"
Most of the time, I find her column to a bit hokey. The things people write in about seem ridiculous and her advice a bit stuffy.
But this time, the question to her hit close to home for me, as I, just like the writer, do not have a land-line phone, instead only carrying a cell phone.
I loved her advice. So much so that I cut out the article. I'm going to save it and next time I get inundated, I'm going to make a copy and mail it to the caller.

Lazy-nation

We are getting so lazy as a nation, it's becoming epidemic. And yes, I'm including myself in that categorization. I'm going to get on my high-horse here. Probably make some people mad. I'm even going to mention my work-place, even though I swore I'd never write about it again. As I start ranting and raving, I'll do my best to try and keep the profanity in check.

We're going to have our taxes done this evening, and since this will take a while, I decided to run into the Wally-world at lunch time to get a few necessities to tide us over, as I felt I probably wouldn't have time this evening (or else I'd be too tired by the time we got done at the tax place.
Twice within the space of 15 seconds, I nearly had my car wrecked by other drivers. I was backing (backing?, try inching) out of a blind spot, going very slowly as I couldn't see on-coming traffic. Once I'd gotten to a point I could see, just in the nick of time, I hit the brake as there was a car speeding up the driving lane at about 40 mph. I just waited for the car to pass. Any other time, this would've warranted a honking of the horn and perhaps a flipping of the bird, but I was simply too lazy to do either.
Once I'd backed out, straightened my car and had just proceeded forward, the woman that had been parked next to me started backing up, without looking. I guess she was too lazy to do so, instead preferring the bump/feel method. That and I'm sure that lighting her cigarette was much more important than my safety. Her SUV was much bigger than mine and would've done a lot of damage to my passenger side, so I laid on the horn and distracted her from her cigarette lighting and got her to stop backing up until I could get passed her.
Some supplies that we use here at work we order from a central location in Louisville. When the prep center delivers a body, they bring the supplies. If I'm fortunate, they'll bring the body in the front door and leave the supplies at the bottom of the steps, only forcing me to lug them up a single flight of steps. If I'm not so fortunate, they deliver the body to the garage (basement) and leave my order down there. This was the case a couple of weeks ago. I kept dropping hints that I was running low on a particular item and was promptly informed that the supply was in the basement. Okay, considering my bad back, it would be nice if someone else would carry the heavy box up the two flights of stairs to my office. Do you think that ever happened? No, because there are some seriously lazy people around here, and I shouldn't have to beg and plead for certain kinds of assistance (on the other hand, there are some things they try to assist me with and I have to beg & plead with them to let me do it myself). So this morning I had to trek down two flights of stairs to the basement, dig through several boxes until I found the one with a particular item. Then the phone started ringing. I was busy, so I started to ignore it. But it kept ringing. Do you think anybody else would answer it? No, guess they were too lazy. I answered it, only to have the woman on the other end ask me for the address of a church on Brownsboro Road. I looked around, but didn't see a phone book in the basement. I told her she'd have to wait while I put her on hold and went up to the second floor to get a phonebook. I thought by sounding pitiful and dramatic, and mentioning the word "phonebook", she might actually say, "oh I'm sorry, I guess I could look it up myself" but she didn't. So I lugged the heavy box up two flights of steps, looked up the church's address, all the while gasping for air. Now my back hurts (again) and I'm in a cranky mood.

Stuff

What is up with this freaky weather?? It's SNOWING outside! Grrr!! Between that and the frost this morning, I suppose I can kiss my new tomato plants good-bye. **sniff**
Had dinner with some of the girls last night at Havana Rumba in St. Matthews. Cuban food. Never had it before, but I'd definitely like to go again sometime when it's not so crowded. What I had was good and the camaraderie was good... just wish more of the girls could've been there.
It's been a week of ups and downs, both for myself and some of my friends. I hope we can all get past this week and start fresh next week on a level playing field.
I'm hoping to get all my k-9 kids bathed this weekend. They are all seriously overdue for a good scrubbing. Although, Olivia may be needing another one before the week is out.
I'm taking her to the Louisville Bats game with me on Wednesday. It's bring-your-dog-to-the -game day. I think it will be a good socialization thing for her. Of course, I'll probably need to drink heavily afterwards (if not before). I just hope we don't freeze our butts off.
Happy Easter everybody!!

More remember whens...

Remember when parents used to make their children mind their p's & q's in public, or else they got spanked?
Okay, I know this blog is probably gonna piss a lot of parents off and I'm going to receive some flack for it, but seriously folks....
I bring this up because today we have a visitation going on before the funeral service this afternoon. The chapel is cram-packed with people. There are several young children in attendance, and apparently not one responsible adult among the whole lot.
My office is up on the second floor. This means there is a staircase. The staircase is apparently supposed to serve as the playground for all children under the age of 10 (did I mention that there were a lot of kids here today?).
All the adults that pulled their children out of school for the occasion seem to be oblivious to what their little darlings are doing. I on the other hand and quite aware, because the little darlings (and NO, that isn't my true feelings of what I want to call them) keep coming up the stairs and banging on the door to my office, then turn and flee down the stairs again. I can not tell you how many times I've had to go chase them off the stairs, only to have them come back a few minutes later.
I've tried sweetly asking them if there is something I can help them with. I've tried politely telling them they shouldn't be upstairs. I've tried the evil-eye-glare. I even told the funeral director in charge, thinking something might be said to the children or their parents. I've tried hiding behind the door and then throwing it open just as the kids get to the top of the stairs in an attempt to scare the daylights out of them. I even tried slamming the door shut one time, thinking perhaps a parent would notice and finally say something to the little darlings. Nothing has worked.
I remember when I was a child and attended a funeral or visitation, I (and the other children in attendance) sat quietly in a chair and we BEHAVED!!!
Honestly, is it asking too much for these parents to either leave their children in school (since the children aren't learning public behavior manners, perhaps they can learn whatever is being taught in class that day), or else is it asking too much for the parents to simply keep up with where their children are and what they are doing, and be mindful that not everyone thinks their little darlings behavior is as cute as the parent thinks it is????

Remember when...?

A friend and I went to visit another friend at the hospital last night, and as we walked past the newborns nursery, we paused for a moment to ooh and aah over the little bitty babies. I commented on all the things that babies had to wear now, a diaper being the only thing close to resembling clothing. There were the i.d. bands, the "beeper" thingys around the ankles to prevent someone from snatching a child, and a few other contraptions, I suppose to monitor the heartbeat, or if the child should not move. I sighed and commented it's a shame we have to live in this kind of society.
Children today live in an unsafe world, therefore we have to do everything possible to keep them safe. Safety equipment is required for everything imaginable,, laws have been established to keep them safe, watchful eyes at every turn (whether human eyes or surveillance cameras), and yet, somehow, there's always some flaw or loop hole in the system that still allows the children to get into trouble.
Because of the rubber-backed-bubble we put them in to try and keep them safe, I can't help but think "how sad" that they are missing out on so much that we enjoyed as children, took for granted, and yet lived to adulthood and are able to tell about it.
Remember when we (as children) used to sit in the bed of the pick-up truck or put the tailgate down on the family station wagon and sit on it while adult(s) drove to town... our feet dangling?
Remember when we wouldn't have dreamed of wearing a seat belt on a car trip? Where was the fun in that? Shoot, if we wore one of those, then we wouldn't have been able to bounce up in the air, hitting our heads on the roof of the car, as the adult driver accelerated slightly when going over a hill on a country road. Who needed a roller coaster ride at an amusement park? We had trips to my great-grandmother's house in the country!
Speaking of trips in the country... remember when "Sunday driver" meant something other than somebody driving slow down the road? I can remember when mom would pack a picnic lunch and we'd go for a drive in the country, meandering the back roads, stop and play in a creek somewhere, eat the picnic lunch, and then meander back home. Those are definitely things of the past!... between the price of gas, the fact that everybody is in such a hurry to get places and doesn't have time for such things, and the creeks now seem to be too contaminated for playing in!!
Remember when we actually went outside and played, All Day Long!?, only stopping long enough to eat lunch, and then get right back to playing? Or if it was a rainy day, we played board games? There was no X-Box or other video games to keep us glued to the tv in our rooms... heck, there was only one television set in the house and it was in the living room. You either all agreed on what to watch or else you went and read a book.
Not only can I remember a time when telephones had a dial with finger holes, but I can also remember a time when we didn't even have a telephone (and yes folks, I'm under the age of 40), much less a cell phone for each and every person to carry.
Remember when, if you wanted to change the tv channel or volume, you had to get up and walk over to the tv? We didn't know what a remote control was, much less a universal remote for all the gadgets.
Remember when it was safe to run around barefoot all the time? We didn't worry about diseases. And if we cut our foot, so be it. You went home and either got bandaged or went to the doctor for a few stitches. Then you wore shoes for a few days 'til the cut was healed, then you went barefoot again. Step in dog crap? Wipe your foot off on the grass and keep going! Now days, I only go barefoot outside on rare occasions, and mostly only if in my own yard, and even then I still step carefully.
Ah yes, the good ol' days....

Questions for me

I read the following questions on-line this morning (I hope the C.J. site doesn't mind me posting them on my blog). These questions are giving me some serious food-for-thought, and I'll spend the next few days trying to come up with some serious, honest answers. Perhaps by this time next week, I'll share with you what, if anything, I've learned about myself.

#1) What am I doing when I lose track of time?
#2) What would I do with my time if I won the lottery?
#3) What efforts bring me the most praise and encouragement from others?
#4) When have I accomplished a challenging task without it feeling like hard work?
#5) What activities can I get so immersed in that I stop worrying about problems?
#6) Which future trends am I most curious about?
#7) What types of news stories grab my attention?
#8) What current events keep me glued to the radio or television?
#9) What newspapers, websites, or sources of information do I go back to most often?
#10) Of my role models, who are the ones making news right now and why?