HERE COMES SUMMER

Summer is almost upon us and yet I am not over come with the sense of dread I used to experience when the kids were younger. Gabe is never home. Zack is yak wrangling and pig corralling in New York. Art is getting ready to take off to Oregon for the summer and Becca has already begun the process for joining the Air Force after graduation. That leaves Rocky, who is also never home.

Which leaves me home with Shithound and Stupid Cat. Not cool!

I'm leaving for Georgia in a week or so for a partial Family Reunion. I'm so excited. After the cancellation of the planned Reunion I was to host this summer it wasn't certain when we could all get together. Big Sisters and Brothers in Law put their heads together, got the gears in motion and now 4 of the 6 siblings will be at my sister's house to enjoy our parents' company. Of course I will be fashionably late, but they've come to expect that of me. (Thanks to everyone who made this possible.)

And what of the rest of the summer, besides shithound and stupid cat sitting? My #1 goal is to have a Bachelorette pad in full swing by my birthday. I don't know who's more excited, me or Dickidoo. I wonder if he'll notice if I take the bed...

TESTING...

My neat-o-wow cell phone is also a teenie, tiny computer without the headaches. It comes with all kinds of applications like a flashlight, a lighter with flame (for concerts don't ya know!), a scrolling banner, a dating advice service, and yes... a blogging service. So here I am trying it out. I'll warn you now, there is no spell check on this thing.
My banner is currently bright yellow with big black scrolling letters that spell out "You're jealous!" I like to flash it at Dickidoo whose phone probably has bigger and better apps, he just doesn't know how to use them.
Well, enough about my phone, lets see if this thing works.

Kids... can't live with them and can't live with them! (nope, that's not a typo!)

All my kids lives I've been waiting for them to grow up and become self sufficient so that I could maybe have some kind of peace while at home and in their presence.  I provided them with cell phones to keep tabs on them so that I can have peace of mind when they are not in my presence.

Sucker!

Now they phone and text me constantly when we're apart and are like talking fly paper when we're together.  Very little has changed from the days when I would hide in the bathroom only to be followed with little fingers wiggling from under the door as inquisitive voices demanded to know what I was doing. 

For the past 25 years I've not had a moment's peace.

Little by little though the flock is leaving the nest and flying away.  By the end of the year it could very well just be one fledging spawn remaining.  I'm looking forward to the empty nest and setting off on my own but that will happen in it's own good time.  For now, I revel in their company, as irritating as it can be sometimes. 

I could use a little less of the guilt trip phone calls though.  Seriously Rocky, you will not freeze to death on the 1/2 mile walk home from school.  And why don't you try calling your dad's cell phone for a change huh?  You're 50% his fault too!

Good grief!

COFFEE 911

A couple of days ago I woke to the smell of dirty socks and slobbery dog, common scents in my house but usually masked in the morning by the aroma of freshly brewed coffee.  On that particular morning it was just the lingering odor of a right sided ghost sock and the shithound's drool.  That was when I remembered what I had forgotten to remember the day before.

Buy more coffee!

Crap... I mean, shit!  I mean, suffering succotash.  No... DAMMIT, and I mean DAMMIT!

I could already see how my day was shaping up and it was not promising.  A quick stop at 711 took care of my immediate need and then a trip to The Store filled up the long term need. 

What awaited me in the mailbox later that day though would make my day.  A small box, addressed to me in tiny print beckoned me to open it.  I tore it open and was delighted to hold in my hands... a coffee emergency kit, a bag containing several packets of coffee grounds of various flavors (no decaf!) with the instructions:

1. Open kit.
2. Cure coffee Jones.
3. Replace usage.
4. Close kit until next emergency.

Gonna make a few emergency kits to pass out to some of my equally disorganized coffee fiends friends.  I know they'll appreciate it just as much as I.  Nothing is worse than a coffee addict going through withdrawals!My brother-in-law is like my personal FEMA.  It's so nice to be loved.  Either that or he's tired of hearing me whine about running out of coffee all the time.  What ever the case may be, it worked and peace is once again restored to the galaxy.  Thanks K.  I am now prepared.

Confessions of a Reluctant Hypochondriac.

Last week, after I slipped on the ice and landed on my back, I made light of my injuries but in reality I was scared shitless.  I remember one foot slipping out from under me and thinking "Crap, there goes my other knee!" because just days earlier I slipped on another patch of ice by the ponds and came down hard on my right knee.  But this time, even as I tried to regain my balance I could feel my other foot slipping as well.  Swoosh!  Nothing but air!  I don't know what hit first, my butt, my hands or my head.  I closed my eyes as if by doing so I could soften the landing.  It did not work.

I didn't feel pain so much as I felt the force... a powerful energy that sucked the air out of my lungs... and I remember hearing a strange sound, like something solid hitting the concrete.  That would be my head.  My body instantly tensed into a ball although in reality I was sprawled out on the ground, face up.  The dog began jumping on me.

Lassie would have gotten the neighbors to help me.  Jubilee just wanted to play.  Stupid dog!

I rolled over to protect my skull from further pounding as the bassett hound bounced on me.  I opened my eyes, half expecting to see blood and brains spilled out on the ice but the ground was bare except for a dusting of snow over the ice.  I laid on my belly, feeling the ice melt below me, for what seemed like ages.  I wished Jubilee would get Lassie, who I knew would get me help.  I just knew I was going to die out there on the ice.

I didn't feel real pain until I tried to stand up.  It felt like talons were digging into my lower spine and pulling me down.  I knew that pain, I had felt it before after an accident at the ice skating rink when I was a teenager.

I had busted my butt... again.

The bump on my head was immediate, and it was alarming.  It filled my cupped hand.  The part of my brain that was not still in shock from the blow was horrified yet amazed by the size of the bump, which was steadily growing.  In automation I went around to the car, picked up Art's Pink Haired Girlfriend, drove her to school and drove back home. By then the goose egg had developed into an ostrich egg and I was concerned.

So I googled 'concussion', certain that was what I was suffering from.  For the rest of the day I barely moved, getting up only to use the bathroom and examine my pupils.  I listened for ringing in my ears.  Was I nauseous or just hungry?  Were those stars floating across my vision or just dust in the air?  Was I going into shock or having a seizure or was it just cold?  I had taken 3 asprin before my slip... was I now bleeding out in my brain?

In all seriousness I did, at one point, entertain the idea that I could be dying.  I had no 'near death' or out of body experience.  I didn't see the 'light' and my life didn't flash before my eyes but in a moment of clarity I acknowledged the fact that I could actually be living my last moments of life on this earth.

A check list went through my still rattled mind... did everyone who needed to know that I loved them actually know without a doubt that I loved them?  Check.  Were my bills up to date?  Kind of check, nothing that my current paycheck couldn't handle.  Life insurance?  Check.  Will?  Check.  Clean underwear?  Check.

What snapped me out of it was the realization that I had a ton of dirty laundry in my room.  I couldn't die and leave someone else to sort through my dirty laundry.  I had a bunch of raunchy socks and some not so clean undies that I could never RIP knowing that someone else had to touch them.

So while my butt still hurts and my head looks like a deformed conehead, I am alive.  And I won't be dying any time soon, because I still haven't gotten to that pile of laundry in my room.

CACTH OF THE DAY~

This is what happens when you leave someone who spells with a lisp in charge of the bill board.  Most passers by don't cacth the mistake because their brains automatically correct and process the word without them even realizing the error.  I was able to cacth it because I'm anal.  Ironically I am a lousy speller.

COUNT DOWN TO 'ME'

I've got all kinds of count downs ticking in my head, my 26th Wedding Anniversary, which is also my unofficial 1st Un-Anniversary, or what ever they're calling it, there's my 50th birthday, my LAST cycle (woo hoo), and somewhere down the line in the not so distant future although no definite date has been set, is my divorce.

If someone were to tell me a year ago that I would be writing that opening paragraph I would have laughed, but it's not so funny in the here and now.

What also looms ahead is the steady decline of residents in the house. Zack is still in New York. That is just a temporary thing but I'm not so sure he'll be moving back here when the time comes. Gabe is barely ever here. Art is planning on moving out in the summer, and Becca is making plans to share an apartment with her friend after Graduation. That leaves Rocky.

Oh yeah, and the shit-hound. And of course Henry the homicidal goldfish.

And then what? Now that the shock has worn off I can honestly say that I am actually excited about the new opportunities opening up to me. Do I want to pursue my passion for the culinary arts or take a course in photography? Do I want to learn the skills to present my literary aspirations or dare I follow my dreams and just point my nose forward, going where ever it leads me?

I'm like a kid in a candy store, I want it all!

Realistically all this didn't become available to me because of my divorce and the kids moving out, I was just forced to focused on the fact that there will come a time when everyone is gone and I will be on my own. What will I do with myself then? Fact: there is life after family, and it keeps on evolving with the changing times. Fact: 50 is not too old to enjoy life or learn something new.

Eek! (screech to a halt).

But what about, you know, love... Is it necessary? Not the love of a family, I'm confident that I will always have that. I'm talking the romantic stuff. Do I really need that? I know I thrived on it when I had it, I know I miss it now that I've lost it, but do I need it to enjoy the rest of my life?

Yeah, well, I don't know. Let's just go with 'NO' and see what happens.

But just in case, I'll keep shaving my pits and legs cos you just never know...

Finally, a real bed... sort of.

I have finally gotten my bed set up, a different mattress, on a box spring and on a frame. The frame is a little bit too large for the box spring, which was discovered early on when I jumped on my bed for the first time in celebration and both mattresses... with me on top, dropped to the floor through the frame like a trap door. Just as well it's a twin bed, it's not very motion-friendly. So long as I don't move, and keep my breathing to a minimum, I should be okay. One thing's for sure, there will be no hanky panky going on here! Other than that the bed is very comfortable.

It's not my job!

I was walking through a multi-million dollar store the other day and on it's high polished floors, under a clothing rack that sported shirts more expensive than I could ever afford until next season when they show up on the racks of my favorite Thrift Store, was a dust bunny almost as big as my cat. There is a whole battalion of men who come into this store each night to tidy it up for the next business day. They are paid to do the floors, nothing else; just sweep, dust, mop and wax, and yet this small Army of men missed an 8 inch dust bunny? Perhaps it's petty on my part, but suddenly I don't feel so bad about my own house. If a whole cleaning crew can spend 8 hours a day, 40 hours a week on nothing but cleaning and they still can't get it all, then how can anyone reasonably expect one woman, in between her own 8 hour job and all the fun things that come along with raising a family of teenagers, a cat and dog to have an immaculate house?

I rest my case.

Deserprate Times or Green Coffee...

It's just 3 days in to the new year and I'm already out of coffee. I almost made a resolution never to run out of coffee... Good thing I didn't because it would really be a bad omen to fail your resolution after just 3 days. Or maybe I would have planned ahead so I wouldn't run out of coffee grounds...

Technically I didn't run out of coffee grounds. I had 4 scoops in the canister, but it was too cold to run to the store and buy some more, and I had 5 scoops of once-used grounds still in the filter in my Bunn-Omatic Brew-Omatic from yesterday... so I just reused a scoop or two.

And what a perfect pot of coffee it made! And it's earth friendly too!

END OF THE YEAR CELEBRATION!

Santa came back to town and took me to Best Buy this afternoon for my late Christmas/ early Birthday present... a new Nikon. Then the Jolly Ol' Elf took Art and me to Famous Dave's BBQ where we enjoyed our last meal of the year... 4 different types of barbecue served on a trash can lid. Let me tell you, that food was soooo good, there was no place in the whole world I would rather have been at that time than right there eating off of that trash can lid! Pulled pork, brisket, ribs and chicken, with corn muffins, potato wedges, corn on the cob, cole slaw and baked beans. What a way to end the year. Seriously! I was so excited about my new camera, which I took into the restaurant with me, but I put it down long enough to absolutely pig out on bbq!

The after shot of the meal wasn't pretty. I still can't believe how much I ate. Even more unbelievable still is the fact that we actually had left overs and brought home a doggy bag! I know what my first meal for the new year will be... Yay!

Now, back to the camera... I can't tell you how depressing it was to work with my old faithful second hand Nikon, knowing that it was slowly dying. Well, not really dying, but it's auto focus motor is burning out. With my eye sight being as lousy as it is I rely heavily on the auto focus although I do most of the other settings manually so it was frustrating to say the least to have to manually focus my shots only to find out later that most of them out of focus. The new camera, a D5000, isn't a heavy duty camera like it's bigger cousins the D80, D90 or my dream camera the D2, but it is amazing and has so many cool little bells and whistles... like a tilt screen and video! But most of all it has a working auto focus. Yay²!

It was dark by the time I was able to get it outside to play and the battery only had a factory charge so I wasn't able to really mess around like I would have liked to. I do know that I love the camera and I hate that I have to go in to work tomorrow because there is nothing I would like better than to just play with the camera and all it's cool settings all day long!

Warning: heavy photo swarming may follow!

Happy New Year to all of my wonderful friends and family.

Thank you Santa, you rock!

Once upon a time...

The year is almost over and I find myself reflecting on the past months in a daze. For once I don't find myself wondering 'Where the hell did the time go?' For once I actually know where the hell time went... away! It went away so quickly that I am still reeling and gasping for breath. Forget trying to comprehend what has happened, I'm just happy knowing that something has happened and that the 12 months, the 365 days or 8760 hours have not been in vain.

Have those days been spent the way I wanted, not necessarily, but they have not been entirely wasted. A little 'pro-action' mixed with the standard and sometimes deperate 'reaction' has kept me some what balanced and moving in a forward direction. Life handed me lemons and I made lemonade. Life handed me limes and I made a margarita. Life took away my fruit and I drank my tequila straight. Then, as if that wasn't fun enough already... life changed the ending on my fairy tale leaving me to come up with an alternate ending. That is proving to be a bit challenging but not impossible.

So what now? How should the next chapter of my life go? My resolution; not just for the coming year but for the years to come... is to be an independent person. I don't want to settle for 'good enough'. I want the clarity to set a goal and the determination to achieve it. I want the ability to stay on the path but the vision to see beyond it. Most of all I want the strength to be myself and not become some bitter old woman with a closed heart and mind.

I will not settle for less than 'happily ever after'.

CHRISTMAS 2009

You know Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen. Comet and Cupid and Donner and Blitzen. And of course Rudolph. But don't forget the cutest reindeer of all ~ Jubilee!
Merry Christmas from the House of Oompa.

Dust Bunny Tip of the Day

I have always said that you can't believe everything you read on the internet to be true.  I base this on the fact that Al Gore invented the internet and I don't believe everything that Al Gore says.  So when I get e-mails with amazing tips and stories I tend to be on the skeptical side.  Sometimes, however, something will catch my attention and I will test it out.

I recently got a million times forwarded and reforwarded e-mail from my brother-in-law/friend (how cool that he can be both!).  Anyhow this particular e-mail contained several useful tips for around the house.  The one that really grabbed my eye though was the one about using hair conditioner as shaving gel.

Being as we always buy conditioner AND shampoo, but the shampoo runs out faster, we always have left over conditioner, and if we buy a different brand of shampoo or even the same brand but a different fragrance... goodness knows you can't mix and match the conditioner!  So we have all this extra conditioner that is just building up in the shower.

The downstairs shower that is.  Not the upstairs shower where I was when I decided to test out this helpful household tip.  The only condition in the upstairs shower was a bottle of Head and Shoulders Conditioner bought by accident instead of the shampoo.

But it was conditioner none the less so I squirted a handful onto my palm and smeared it all over my leg.  I scraped my razor up, down and around my legs.  I even did my pits and panty line.  And then for the test.

Silky smooth!

And now I can wear black without worrying about embarrassing flakes of dandruff showing up on my pants, shirts and panties!

So, this is proof that not all internet stories are false.  Try some out, you really might be surprised!  I know I was, and I absolutely love this particular shaving tip.

The end of a dream...

My Broncos have regained their composure and are back in the running for the Wild Card.  Dickidoo's Steelers are still stumbling.  Although Pittsburgh won against the Broncos, karma is paying off and they trail Denver in wins.  Their past record is indisputably impressive but lets face it, the Broncos are the better team this year.  Or maybe they've just played the worst teams so far... either way they have a better record thus far.  But Dickidoo has to crow about something and he's found a doozie.

Did you know that Howie Long was a Raider?  I did not.  Did you know that I hate the Raiders with a fiery passion with the exception of Lyle Alzado who was my favorite player when I first started watching football way back in the day... it broke my heart when he died.  In my defense Alzado was also a Bronco at one time, although it was long before I became a Bronco fan.  It was just meant to be... 

So anyhow the other night after Sunday Night Football Dickidoo and I were watching the Post Game show and Howie, my favorite commentator was talking.  Suddenly it dawned on me that I had no idea what team Howie had played for so silly me asked Dickidoo.  The only thing he knew for sure was that Howie was not a former Steeler so he googled 'Howie Long'. His laugh was long and evil.

Howie was a Raider!

To say that I was devastated would be an understatement.  I was and still am totally disillusioned.  I cannot even watch those Chevy Truck commercials any more without hanging my head in utter disbelief.  It's a feeling that can only be described as what a child might feel when he finds out that his parents are really Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy and Easter Bunny as well!

Dickidoo has offered to buy me a Howie team jersey.  He has never offered to buy me a Bronco jersey, not Henry or Bailey, Marshall or Elway, but he really wants to buy me a Howie Long Raider jersey.  What a sweetheart!

I suppose I probably shouldn't have hung Pittsburgh Pete over the toilet during the game huh?

Howie... a Raider?!  Life is so cruel!  I'm going to wake up and it will all have been a nightmare.  When I google 'Howie Long', he will show up as a Bronco.

Or not...(sigh)

THERE'S JUST NO PLEASING ME

I have to say... my new work schedule isn't very family friendly.  I start too early in the day to do anything before work. I don't have enough time to cook supper before I leave so the family has been eating bachelor food for the past week. I get off too late to do anything after work. I work straight through the weekend. I have no social life.
 
On the plus side I actually get to say good-night the kids as I walk in the house and pass them on their way to bed.  You'd think that the current situation with it's time constraints would get me off the hook for fight mediations and general nagging.

Nope, that's what text messaging cell phones are for!

Shhhh...

Did you hear that?

That was the sound of me snapping out of it.

I giggled yesterday.  I actually 'giggled'.  Girls giggle, not 49 year old grandmothers.  But I giggled, and it felt good, and I didn't care who heard or saw me giggle because it felt that good.  It was as if I had opened up a box stashed away in the corners of my memories and found a long forgotten treasure.  I lifted it up, shook it out and tried it on, and it still fit!  I looked in the mirror and I saw it...

A smile that reached my eyes.

Silly girl!  Hehehehe!

No, I'm not drunk.  I'm alive!

Lessons learned

I sneaked into my old room last night after the game, shooting Dickidoo a message warning him of my presence so he wouldn't think I was some intruder who had hidden in his bed while he was at the game. 

'Possession is 9/10th of the law,' I texted as I burrowed deep into the fluffy softness that I once took for granted.  Despite the disappointment of my team losing to his team, sleep came easy.  I was awakened some time later by his voice.

'Does this mean I have to sleep on the couch?'

'No, but you can if you want to.' I replied.  I waited for the goading, the heckling and harrassment that I certainly would have dished out had the Broncos won... but he merely commented on the good game, fussed about parking and was snoring within minutes.  Just like the old days, I thought before my snoring joined in the chorus.  Dang, I miss that bed.

I'm looking at life differently now days.  It's not so complicated any more.  Happiness is a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.  Ecstasy is two peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.  Friends and family think I need a guy in my life to be happy.  Why?  I've got a fresh loaf of bread, a jar of Skippy and some blackberry jam.  I'm good!

The moral of this story is:  Enjoy life's simple pleasures, don't take anything (especially your mattress) for granted, and NEVER let me babysit your mascot when your team is playing my team and you go to the game without me!

Disclaimer: Gno gnomes were harmed during the making of this or the previous post.

Jealous, who, me?

Dickidoo's friend gave him a ticket for tonight's game~ Broncos vs. Steelers at Invesco Field in Denver. 

'Sorry, I wish there was another ticket for you.' he said. 

(Yeah, right, I'll bet you do!)

But he didn't call to brag.  He called to ask me to pick the ticket up for him.

Say what?

Yeah, okay, I can do that.  And I can even babysit Pittsburgh Pete, the Garden Gnome for you while you're at the game. Don't worry, he'll be safe with me!  I'll take good care of him!

RESURRECTION

resurrection: (n) 1.The act of rising from the dead or returning to life.
2.The state of one who has returned to life.

I had a nasty bug this weekend.  No, it wasn't H1N1 or the Swine flu. No fever was involved, and no coughing or head aches.  Just gosh awful cramping, nausea and a whole lot of running to the bathroom.

Art:  Hey mom, what's the past tense for 'When Pigs Fly'?
Me:  I haven't a clue.
Art:  Swine flu....  Pigs fly, swine flew... get it?
Me:  Grrrrrrrrr!

We ran out of Immodium AD (wonderful little pill, works wonders and so easy to swallow because it's so tiny!) so I started popping Peptol Bismol caplets.  By the end of my illness I had taken so many of those pink pills that I half expected to be ... well, you know... doing it in pink!

'Actually the ingredients in Peptol Bismol would turn it white,' Rocky's adorable Cello Playing Boyfriend informed me.  Simply adorable.  See why he fits in so well with our family?

The house is a mess.  Dickidoo has been gone all week so I can't blame it on him.  The Oompas are all teenagers and insist that they clean up their own mess (when did they start doing that? It must be a new thing), and I've been way too sick to do anything let alone wreck the entire house.  I guess that leaves the pets.

I know for a fact that the shit-hound unstuffed the sofa cushion and that the cat helped to distribute the stuffing through out the house.  There is evidence of trash can raids in the kitchen, bathroom and all remaining corners of the upper level.  The goldfish glare accusingly every time the cat and dog enter the foyer where the tank sits.  Henry the homicidal goldfish waits, his little goldfish cheeks fully loaded with stinky tank water, poised to shoot if the cat even so much as thinks about jumping on the aquarium to knock down the fish food for the dog to chew open.  The stairs leading to the lower level of the house still bear proof of the last such conspiracy.

Yes, it is quite possible that the cat and dog actually did trash the house without help from the Oompas.  It probably took them just a few minutes to do so.  It will probably take me all afternoon to clean it up. (Art, a little help here? I think you owe me after that swine flew joke.)

And I wanted a cat and a dog... why?

Note to self:  next time I decide to get a stomach bug and die for a few days, send the critters to a kennel.  This is just crazy!

But other than that, I feel mah-valous!