OH YES, I AM NOW REMINDED WHERE I GET IT

It's been a long long time since a post but.....On this lazy Sunday afternoon John and I were looking for information we needed for a new insurance plan at work.  On my journey I found a letter my mom had written to her health insurance people approximately 21 years ago.  Mom had cut her hand on a lamp that Jonathan had broken and instead of insurance paying for the stitches, they sent her a questionnaire asking a million questions about how the injury happened.  Well, you don't mess with mama.  Below is the letter she wrote back to them:

Dear Madam ( She assumed it was a madam I think)

This is written in regards to the how, when and where question on reverse side.  

Approximately 9:02 pm EST (give or take a second or so), I had just drawn 12" of water into my shocking pink bathtub and proceeded to lower my hefty frame into said tub, when I heard an ear piercing scream from adjoining room.  Upon hearing said scream, I immediately raised my hefty frame out of the water and went dripping wet and buck naked into adjoining room to see what the matter was.  Upon entering said adjoining room, I found my twenty month old grandson standing in glass.  I picked him up to see if the little fellow was cut anywhere.  ( we call him little fellow as an endearment.)  He wasn't hurt as I could see, but he had played hell with my powder blue, hob nail antique lamp given to me by a dear dear friend, long since deceased.  It was broken into hundreds of pieces.  Upon cleaning up said mess, I removed all large pieces of glass and took remainder of the lamp to the garbage can which is located in the garage.  Upon throwing lamp in trash, I proceeded to cut my hand in a very precarious place.  It was right on the third joint of my left hand.  

I could see that I was in for it, because it was now 9:20 pm and my hand was bleeding like a stuck hog.  (That's an old farm expression)  I could see the wound couldn't be butterflied or that my husband didn't have the stomach for sewing up such a gaping wound, so I wrapped a washcloth around my hand, got my sister, and headed for the emergency room at Union Hospital.  Why didn't my husband take me?  Because he has to get up for work at 4 am so he can pay for this damn insurance that gives me a hassle every time I need to use it.  

I arrive at emergency room upon which I waited 4 and a half hours to be waited on.  The ER doctor put SEVEN painful stitches in my hand and patted me on the back and said "have a nice night"

Now, if you think I abuse your insurance, believe me I have had some health issues lately lately, but keep in mind my husband has used it very little.

If I can just hold on a little longer, maybe Uncle Bill and Aunt Hillary's health care plan doesn't sound so bad after all!!!

Sincerely,

Vivian Tedrick 

Yes, she sent this and yes the bill was paid.  I would love to have been in that office when they read this.  I know what we would have done at our office.....we would have put it on Facebook of course.

EVERYTHING YOU EVER WANTED TO KNOW ABOUT THE SEX LIFE OF AN ELEPHANT SEAL

I knew that title would catch your eye.   Today we drove up route one along the coast. It was a beautiful ride.

We came across the hangout for a ton of elephant seals. In human terms you can probably compare them to a group of Homer Simpsons.  As you can see by the picture, they are not overly ambitious.

We found a person named Joy who shared everything she knew about these lard butt smelly creatures.  First, if you believe in reincarnation, pray you don't come back as a female Elephant Seal. I believe it would be totally dreadful. 

Joy delighted in showing us a picture of mating sea lions. Trust me. ...it made even me blush. She even gave us a web site where they have Web cams set up and in February you can get online and watch this animal porn yourself.  if you tune in in January you can watch the women give birth.

Here is how it goes......The women are pregnant for 11 months. They give birth to a sixty pound baby. They nurse the baby for one month. The baby seal gains 10 POUNDS PER DAY!  After the month the Homers move in for a little romance. I hear it's very little.  it's like wam bam and off to the next woman.  I guess it's a free for all and who knows what baby belongs to which male. Just like humans you always know who the mother is.

So there you have it.  Everything you always wanted to know. If you would like the Web Cam site I can hook you up. 

The little seals in the picture are approx two years old. They aren't considered an adult I until they are four. 

Disney Days

This is the part of the trip that I MUST be careful not to offend Barbie and Ken, who are also known as our happiness coordinators. They are Disney Fanatics like no other.  So I would never want to offend them.

 I was torn between being on Royal baby watch or going to Disney.  Disney won.  What can you say about Disney?  There is nothing that they do half cracked.  It is truly a class act of amusement parks.  If I had a dying wish I would love to go to Disney with just me and ten of my closest friends when nobody else is in the park.  It could be midnight to 6am for all I care.  That would be great!

It is so crowded here and the lines are just so long.  You are constantly in danger of getting hurt with strollers, wheelchairs and hum arounds.  I get so mad.  Note to my children:  If I am ever wheelchair bound, DO NOT take me to an amusement park.  I couldn't be more serious.  I'm not trying to be cold hearted but who do you think is pushing those wheelchairs?  Ten year olds are that's who and they will run your ass over in a heartbeat! Why people let ten year old kids navigate is beyond me.  

Our hotel is gorgeous.  We are staying at The Grand Californian.  This is such a neat place.  When you walk outside the hotel you are in Downtown Disney.  At the end of the walkway you go right for California Adventure or left for Disneyland.  It's a great set up and so convenient.  No buses, or any transportation needed.   

We ate at two really good restaurants.  The first dinner was at Blue Bayou in Disneyland.  It was cool.  It made you feel as though you were in New Orleans.  It overlooked the boat ride of Pirates of the Caribbean.  The food was excellent.  

.  

The second night we ate at the Winery in California Adventure called Golden Vine Winery.    

Again, we had a very good meal. I meant to take pictures of our meals and just forgot.  I can only tell you none of us were disappointed.

John happy to have found a refreshing beverage.  

Me:  Just contemplating how I almost got killed by a hum around.

Two great days....two fun parks.  Four great friends.

Day One LA Tourists

Good grief, I'm not doing very well at blogging this vacation.  It almost feels like a job trying to figure out the app and get pictures included and on and on.  I will tell you, we are having a great time.  The first full day in LA we tourists did touristy things.  First stop and about an hour drive (we took the scenic route) was Randy's Donuts?  Have you heard of that?  Yea, me either.  I guess it's a donut shop that has been seen in many movies. If you go to Wiki it will tell you which movies.




Next stop:  Walt's Barn.  This is A barn that was moved from the backyard of Walt Disney's house.  A group of volunteers keep it up and running.  It is not connected in any way to the Disney parks.  

Next stop:  Forest Lawn Cemetery.  Ken has an app on his phone that tells you where dead celebrities are buried.  We saw where Walt Disney's ashes were buried and no he isn't frozen somewhere to be brought back to life he really was cremated.  We also saw where George Burns and Gracie are buried.  There is a bench in front of their crypt and that is where George would come often and talk to Gracie.  I really wanted to see Michael Jackson's place of burial, but it is not accessible.  You can see where people drop off flowers daily at the door.  Everyday the keepers of the cemetery come along and dispose of them. We did go see the house he died in which is on the same street as Walt Disney's.  (someone in this group is a Walt Disney Fan)




Then our last touristy thing of the day was to eat the famous chicken at Knott's Berry Farms.  See the place mat below?  It has a lot of words and a lot of years there doesn't it?  Well, imagine that you are eating late and you are kind of irritable after a long day of being a tourist and in the booth across the aisle a child approx 10 years old was reading this word for word in her best monotone, outside voice.  I thought it would NEVER end!  EVER!  I was afraid once it did end, her parents would ask for a menu so she could read the history on the back of it too.

GET A DUFFEL BAG THEY SAID........

Get a duffel bag.....everything will fit they said

  

I have a hunch that I'm being tricked.   Our traveling partners (Barbie and Ken)  talked us into taking dropped bottom duffel bags.  Really?  pack for a two week vacation with just a duffel bag?   My fear is we are actually going on a hiking trip and nobody wanted to tell me.  Oh my what hell that would be.  Seriously, the only hike I want to take is around an air conditioned mall.

One of the most frustrating jobs is packing a suitcase to go on vacation.  I would like to pack just enough and not too much.  Everything I pack is based on What ifs.  What if we want to go somewhere nice to eat?  What if it's rainy and cold?  What if it's 100 degrees? What if I run into Harrison Ford or Michael Douglas? Do I take 6 pairs of shoes or two basic pairs?  I mean even making a decision about underwear is major.  I tend to pee my pants when I laugh (OR lift heavy objects which John so kindly let out of the bag to friends last weekend) so that could mean I need two pairs a day, which would be 28 pairs if we didn't have a washing machine. A teenage girl could pack 28 pairs of underwear in a sandwich baggie, but I have a lot of junk in my trunk so forget it.  Then there's toiletries.  You know there aren't any drug stores or Targets in California right?  What goes in the carry on?  This is one I need to worry about because it seems no matter how careful I am something gets confiscated at security.  You know I can be a dangerous SOB with that tube of Crest or my favorite Bath and Body Lotion.  Did you know however, that you can take your own mini booze bottles on the plane?  ChaChing!!!  John got me enough Vodka that he is relatively comfortable he won't lose a finger with every hit of turbulence because I have his hand in a death grip.  No I will be sitting there all relaxed and care free.

Actually air travel makes me a bit crazy until we are safe and secure at our destination.   Someday I will tell you about our last flight to California with missed connections and a hotel full of Glee-like boys we almost had to bunk with. Until another time....I have to go try and cram more crap into my duffel bag and keep it under 50 pounds.

Taylor helping me keep it closed so I could zip it.  

Vacation Blogging

In a few days, we will be going on vacation. We are heading to California and due to what I believe to be early onset Alzheimer's, I think I will blog this event.(I made the mistake of reading the book Still Alice and now I'm convinced I also have this ugly disease)  First, it's going to be way to expensive to just go and not remember it and second, I'm sure my kids will be sick with worry about their parents traveling and the shame we could bring to their good family name.  Oh, wait, that's my worry when they travel....never mind.

Anyway, here are the rules:  I will not be taking the laptop.  I just don't want to mess with it.  I will blog from my blogger app on my phone.  So, when you see the wrong form of your or You're or their, there they're being used, please just grin and bear it.  If you see a word spelled incorrectly just mutter to yourself "damn auto correct"  I will maybe go back later and correct my errors.  I would really hate hundreds of years from now for someone to stumble upon this work of art and believe I never got past the eighth grade.

Although we are going with another couple, they may remain anonymous. I may refer to them under an alias, such as Bonnie and Clyde, and all pictures will just be of their back sides unless special permission is granted.  One of them is a public servant and I really don't want to be responsible for her  forced retirement.  I will take responsibility for my own.  So, if there is any drunken debacle or even minor law breaking you may never know.  However, if it's a good enough story you just might.  Who knows.

The plan is to Fly to LA and our first stop is the happiest place on earth AKA Disneyland.  (John C. WILL debate this later)  Here's John's favorite joke:

John:  You know what the best part of Disney is?
Me:  No, what?
John:  The ride home.... BOOOOOM!

He is not a Disney fan, but we are going to make him like it dammit. From there we go up the coast  with stops here and there and finally end up in a house at Napa or is it Sonoma?  I'm just along for the ride and not too worried about details.  From there will will visit San Fran and basically whatever else we want to do.

I don't want to bore anyone, but if you would like to take a virtual tour to California, check in every so often and see what's going on.  By the way, Vivian wants me to add that we have a house sitter and a pit bull.  The pit bull loves blood so beware.  Sarah's a mean witch also so don't tangle with her.

MY MOTHER: ANOTHER WAY I AM NOT LIKE HER.

My mother has a gift.  She has the gift of gab, but more than that she truly has the gift of hospitality.  Just so you know and realize, this is just another way we are opposite.  It's not that I'm not hospitable, it's just that I'm not overly fond of people.  (JOKE) The truth is being hospitable takes a lot out of me.  I worry....I worry about recipes turning out bad, dried out meat, having enough food, people hating everything I make, bathrooms being clean...Someone pulling out the refrigerator and seeing the chili that was spilled down the side of it back in 1998, a dust bunny falling from the ceiling fan that hangs right over the dining room table and ruining the roasted duck

My dad's sister died and we attended her funeral.  I'm not sure exactly what happened, but before I knew it or could do anything about it mom had 150 people lined up for a SMALL funeral dinner afterwards at her house. ( there were only 25 at the funeral)  Before we went to the funeral she had showed me the pulled pork she would be serving which was the size of a banana nut bread.  I thought okay no problem we are having our immediate family and two other people over.  When we arrived at the social event aka the funeral home, mom was inviting everyone she talked to to come over for a bite to eat.  The more she invited the more worried I got.  I was thinking I hope a "bite" is all they wanted because there are12 bites of pulled pork and a whole lot of baked beans  (what is it with funeral dinners and baked beans, is it a joke?..."oh sorry for the gas I'm passing, I went to a funeral today")

I started getting really worried and decided to leave before the funeral to get home and help getting stuff ready.  I stopped at the store and just got a few things like paper products, another can of baked beans (true story) and buns for the six pulled pork sandwiches. 

So, There I am in Vivian's Kitchen snooping around.  May I just say this woman is ready for Armageddon.  She knows how to stock her kitchen with food.  You seriously could randomly pick any recipe as wild or mild as you would like and she would have in her cupboards the very ingredients you would need to make it.  I looked in her freezer and it looks like the Schwan man died and left her his inventory.  It's quite amazing.  She cans, she freezes, and she buys right. The only thing lacking is alcohol.  I was searching for just a  little bit of wine to calm my nerves and there was nothing.   I'm pretty sure there is a beer stash somewhere for my father, they keep that well hidden in case the minister stops by.  At any rate, I will never be that put together.  I buy a new bag of lettuce as soon as I throw the old one away.  That's how I know I need a new bag. (notice I said bag.....chopping up a head of lettuce?  Who has time for that?)

I quickly threw together my famous recipe for creamed chicken sandwiches.  Mom had a can of chicken the size of Freeport, two cans of cream of chicken soup and a half bag of crushed potato chips.  There you go, my worries were over.  We now had enough cream chicken to feed everyone 2-3 sandwiches each.  I added my beans to her 3 bean with hamburg crock pot meal and we were good to go.  As a side note, if you have beans at my mom and dad's house they will always be Bush's for obvious reasons.  These republicans take their parties and beans very very seriously. You will have to search for the booze though.

HERE'S TO FIFTY!

I really don't pay much attention to birthdays, particularly my own.  I know my awesomeness made May 25th a very special day in my moms life.  After all the shenanigans of my hyperactive older brother, she was so happy to get a girl. I have no idea why she gave me a boys name, but I do know she blames my dad.  I was supposed to be named Stephanie, but unfortunetely she chose May 25th to be the first day EVER that she listened to Bob. ( that's probably not true, I think there was an incident in the back of a 56 chevy...just sayin')  So now they had a Roger and a Bobbie. The only place I ever excelled in comparison to my brother is potty training; I was nine months old and he was nine years old.  Other than that small hurdle, he has turned out OK.

My favorite age was 25.  John and I looked at each other when we were 25 and both said " this is the life"  We had a baby, each other, and a 1985 Honda civic.  What more could we want?  Seriously, we thought we were on top of the world.  This lasted quite awhile actually, but it's really not good to peak so early. 

The thirties were absolutely fine.  We had three good kids.  Our kids were polite, and we seriously could take them anywhere and not worry about their behavior.  I don't remember any embarrassing scenes in public, not one.  They were just good kids.

Then there were the forties.  OMG!!  This last decade can just go to hell okay?  I have never been so glad to see anything end in all my life.  I was thinking...about what made these ten years so bad?  Hmmm I know:

Samantha-15
Sarah-14
Jonathan-12

Yes, the teen years aged me an additional ten years.  You know that saying it's not the age it's the mileage.  Yea, my miles are equal to a 60 year old.  I know I blame everything on my kids, but they will be the first to admit it wasn't easy.  I don't care how good your kids are, the worries quadruple.  The driving, the wrecks, the money it takes to raise them, the late night phone calls, the breakups, the drama, the hurt, the stupidity, the thinking they know it all.  The kids hit the teenage years and suddenly my IQ apparently dropped 20 points in their mind. The little kids that I knew in my thirties were now unrecognizable.  Even now, I look back and don't recognize where those babies have gone.

I'm proud to say we weathered the storm.  I believe the worst is over.  ( my mouth to God's ear) I predict that our fifties are going to be divine.  We are going to enjoy our kids once again, we are hopefully going to do the things we didn't get to do in our forties...like sleep at night.  John and I are going to enjoy one another into old age.  I asked John the other day "if you dropped dead right now, is there anything I need to know?"  His answer..."I don't have any mistresses or anything".  Okay good to know.  With that being said, here is to another ten good years!

OH THE THINGS THAT MAKE ME CHUCKLE

Sometimes blogs just happen.  I think if we all would talk less and watch and listen more we could  write daily blogs just about the everyday things in life.  As I have said before, I find humor in a lot of things.  Sometimes I even run the risk of offending people because I'm not overly-serious about important matters.  Oh, trust me, I don't find everything in life funny, and I find life and people to be "udderly" ridiculous sometimes, but I still try to laugh.  John is reading this and saying "really?  Because I believe I witnessed a melt down yesterday."  Well, John, yes, yes you did, but that was because my family was being downright stupid and borderline insane.  I find other people's lives a hell of a lot funnier than my own sometimes. 

My entire day Friday was just weird.  I went to Macy's  to buy my niece a shower gift.  The clerk in housewares was a doll.  She was so friendly and helpful and helped me pick the pieces I was looking for off the registry.  When we were checking out she would wrap a little, talk a little, wrap a little, talk a little.  As very nice as she was, I was growing impatient because the line behind us was getting deeper and deeper and I know what I would be doing and feeling if I were in line and someone was chattering more than working.  Suddenly I saw it. Out of the corner of my eye, getting off the elevator was an 85 year old woman who was on a mission.  I could tell right away she was going to be as patient as a bear in heat.  She went right around everyone in line and forced her way right beside me and said in a very aggravated almost panicked tone "WHERE ARE THE PRESSURE COOKERS"  I busted out laughing...she gave me the look of death.  The good Lord quickly put his hand over my mouth because I was going to point to the back wall and say "right over there beside the kitchen tacks and the fertilizer"  What the hell..seriously, who goes out buying a pressure cooker four days after a pressure cooker bomb is used to create terror.

Now, I know it's too soon for this conversation but she started it.  There are a couple possible scenarios. 

1. She has no idea what is going on in the world and just seriously needed a pressure cooker TODAY.

2.  OR....she was watching FOX news and Sean Hannity said Obama was now going to ban pressure cookers.  In preparation for end times she is going to buy two of them.  ( just my personal observation, but one will last her the rest of her life)

3.  The Cool weather has her confused and she believes there are green beans to be canned.

4. She is going to use it for evil. 

I'm going with number two.  It seems people of this age are always talking about the end times and their TVs are always on cable news.  Psst, I really hate to burst your bubble, but if you are 85 years old you ARE in end times.  My own mom has been talking about end times since I was a teenager. I  lied and said I was going to the bowling alley with friends and instead went railroad track jumping.  Hell, after I was apprehended, I thought it may be end times for me also. Meanwhile, my brother was out....oh never mind.

Now, back to Ethel.  The next time I saw her she was lugging her 50lb cooker to her car which was a big ole Lincoln Continental parked conveniently. (which it should be)  I seriously almost took a cell phone picture to prove to you people I really don't make this crap up.  I just hope her mind is at ease now.

A BLOG ABOUT NOTHING!

First before I get into the subject matter...I really don't plan what I'm going to say.  This isn't a job where I think I have to post something every week or I don't get paid.  However, I was thinking.....If someone told me they would give me a million dollars to write a novel, I would have to lie. (because I need the cash)  Whoever was going to hand over the million bucks would think they may be reading a novel but I can tell you right now it would be an autobiography.  A very boring autobiography, but definitely not a novel. 

I have no vision.  I am not creative.  I am not smart.  I just know what I know.  I think I'm rich in common sense, although I suppose that could be debated if someone saw me, oh I don't know, let's say...leaving a kid at church.  (I thought it seemed quiet on the way home and wouldn't you think a sibling would have said something like "mommy, where's Sarah?")  Any way where is this going you ask? Hell, I don't know. 

I was looking at my blog stats.  It seems some blogs do better than others.  My last one had 49 "hits"  I'm thinking 39 of them were from my mother.  What is really throwing me is this last week my stats said I had people in Germany, Georgia (not USA Ga), Russia, Venezuela and the Netherlands reading this blog.  In the month prior I had all of these plus Canada, India and wait for it......KAZAKHSTAN!!!  Listen this almost scares me.  I googled Kazakhstan and although they speak Russian, when I look at the map, it seems very close to Afghanistan.  When I say close I mean like as close as Tennessee is to Ohio.  Okay that's pretty close. 

To whomever is reading this Podunk blog from KAZAKHSTAN believe me you can do better.  I will repeat myself.  I am boring... so so boring.  I am not creative, I am not smart.  I just know what I know and very little else.  I know a bit about processing milk, cottage cheese, ice cream and birthing babies.  Other than that, in the words of Colonel Klink,  "I know NOTHING"   I have no United States Secrets and no KGB connections whatsoever to anyone you may be looking for.  My life is BORING with a capital B.  I'm guessing you would find my children more interesting.  Hit me up and I will tell you where to find them. Whatever it is you want with them, all I ask is that it doesn't cost me money.

If I ever see where I have a "hit" from let's say North Korea, I will probably board up the blog and either go under the witness protection program or start over in Word Press under an alias. (possibly Booby Tit Rack, that was my high school nick name) However, if I thought it were wee man Kim Jong Un I may pull a Dennis Rodman and invite him to dinner to discuss his short man syndrome.  Perhaps I would even play a little Justin Bieber and see if I could make a "Belieber" out of him.  At that point he may want to fall on his own sword or nuke or whatever he thinks he has.

So anyway, if there truly are people in far away lands reading this, please contact me. I would love to know why?  Your life may be a tad more pathetic than mine, and if so that's good to know.

CAN'T WE JUST LAUGH AT OURSELVES?

Is it me, (naw, it couldn't be) or have we become a bunch of pansies?  It may be the media or the World Wide Web's fault, but we are getting more and more sensitive when we should be trying to get tougher and tougher. 

I just read the headlines and I think what in the hell is going on?  A little boy (3rd grader I believe) got suspended because he ate his pop tart into the shape of a gun.  He was actually aiming to make a mountain but it turned out to be more gun shaped.  he pointed it at someone and said bang bang and the teacher ended up making the mountain (out of a mole hill)  I really want to believe that there is more to this story.    I can relate to this kid and his artsy failure.  I was trying to make pants one time in Home Economics and ended up with shorts.  The teacher told me to go get a scrap piece of material and stupid me cut the leg off the pants I was making and now I had shorts or perhaps pants for a one legged woman.  Anyway I digress....  WTH......Had I been the teacher I simply would have told Timmy to plant his ass in his seat and don't choke on that pop tart.  I guess where the kid failed was he said bang bang and there is zero tolerance.  Well I have zero tolerance for people who only think in black and white terms and don't use their common sense.  There is a lot of gray in this world ( please see paragraph 5)

That same week another third grade boy ( third graders must be nothing but trouble) took cupcakes to school for his birthday and they had little toy soldiers on them...yes the ones with guns.  The administration made them take off the little green soldiers or throw them away or something.  Now, in light of recent events with the school shootings, I will agree that mom probably had a small lapse in judgement, but come on really?  Have you ever been nagged to death by a 8 year old while at the same time his baby brother is crawling  under the kitchen sink trying to drink bleach and the middle child is hanging out the upstairs window trying to propel herself to the tree right outside her window just so she can say she can.  Yes, I have been there!  At that moment your mom instincts kicks in and you prioritize.  The bleach trumps everything because it could mean jail time,  then the possible broken neck of the propeller takes second priority because that could also mean jail time,  and then kid number one can have his damn soldiers on his cupcakes.      Just get OUT TO THE BUS BEFORE YOU MISS IT!!  What mother would even dream that the Soldier cupcakes would make the national news?    Kids definitely know the art of distraction and apparently so does the media.

Today we blame video games on people going out and killing people.  Did anyone ever watch the Roadrunner?   You talk about violence.  That Coyote was mean and violent. I believe he was also a big bully.  I never ever heard anyone say of Jeffrey Dahmer..."gee he must have watched too much roadrunner."  He may, of course, have watched too much Julia Child's cooking shows.  ( get it, he ate people.....OK that was in bad taste, NO PUN INTENDED LOL  I'm cracking myself up)  Speaking of thin skinned that last joke  may offend someone.  I can't help it.  I can't live the rest of my life worried about everything.  I do try to be sensitive, but sometimes I just can't think of everything that may offend someone because just about anything offends someone.  Just typing that run on sentence made me tired.

The newest offense today is where Target has named a color in the plus size section as being Manatee Gray while in the wee size one section the same color is simply Dark Heather Gray.  Sigh......where does it end. Yes, there are fat people who are offended because I guess they also just want to be Dark Heather Gray.  I mean what next Elephant Skin Gray?  Beached Whale Black? Who the hell is Heather anyway?   Oh, why oh why can't I have the job of making up color names.  We could have some real fun and pretty much offend everyone.  Are you short?  How about Midget Mud Wrestling Brown?  Missing a finger and trying to buy gloves in a certain color?  How about trying our Digit-O-Missing red. (I chose a handicap that my father has as not to offend anyone.....my this not offending thing is tiring) Yes, someone at Target was having a blast the day they came up with Manatee Gray, but well played whoever you are, well played! I love it!

Now lighten up EVERYONE!  Timmy wasn't going to hurt you with his pop tart, Soldier Boy isn't going to be a mass murderer just because he likes to play cops and robbers or soldiers,  and Target is just being plain old funny!!  Let it be!  Get a back bone and laugh at your self a little.  If you don't laugh at yourself someone else will.

THE ORIGINAL CHURCH LADIES

Over the past 6 years or so, I have searched for a church.  I have no idea what I was looking for, but I kept coming back to the church that I truly consider family.  Just like the Walmarts and banks of America, there are BIG churches that have it all.  They have Starbucks and Sandwich shops in their churches, they have bands, they have great speakers, they have many many things that can help many people.  There is nothing wrong with this, but personally I really love our church that is truly like family.  Last year when I had my surgeries and my brush with cancer, I received so many cards and prayers from everyone it touched my heart.  To know that there was a group of people praying and thinking about me, was just wonderful. 

So my disclaimer before I go any further:  Though I am laughing, and though I find our older ladies funny, these people have worked diligently for the Lord for many many years.  They have kept our church going.  I worry for our next generation, because that means me.  The thought of me planning a spaghetti dinner scares me to death.  There either needs to be a crowd of 700 or less than ten because I have no idea how to measure spaghetti.  Steak supper?   Nope, I can't make gravy to save my butt either.

So the story begins:  Wednesday night I went to choir practice.  We have 13 members tops when we all show up.  Only 3 of us are NOT retired.  We younger ones come in with one leg dragging behind us because we had just been beat up at work all day. (mind you the Sr.'s have done their time with work and holding a church together)  Speaking only for myself.  It's all I can do to work all day, get dinner on the table and clean it up.  Once I'm home I DO NOT want to leave.  I may only be 49 3/4's, but I act like I'm 85 and no driving privileges due to night blindness and cataracts.

Anyway, someone died and the women of our church were planning their funeral dinner.  All the "elders" were looking over the donation list and pondering and thinking, and writing and erasing, and pondering some more.  Janet said " well, I suppose I could go to the market after I walk at the mall"   I just started laughing.....Market?  I haven't heard that word since this little piggy went to "market".  One by one these dear ladies were pouring over the list of needs and debating and deciding what they would donate. 

I was sitting between Shirley and Janet. 

Shirley:  Judy is going to go to Sam's and pick up whatever is left to get on the list
Janet: Oh well, then just have her get mine.
Shirley:  Okay.

Then I noticed that Janet starting making a list of what she signed up for.  Just as my own mother would, I felt the need to stick my nose in. (I was mostly concerned about too many baked beans showing up)  "Janet, didn't you just tell Shirley to have Judy go ahead and get the baked beans and buns you said you would get?"  Janet replies, "Yes, but I've changed my mind, I'm writing myself a note so I don't forget"  So, I turn to Shirley and said, "Janet changed her mind, please don't get the baked beans or you will have enough baked beans to level Mineral City if everyone eats them"  This banter went back and forth for 15 minutes.  At the end of 15 minutes I could tell you all of their schedules for the next two days.  We had mall walking, market going, Sam's trip and a deadline of Friday morning to get that ham in the oven.   Suddenly, I was glad I work because these people are way too busy. 

Meanwhile, Our token bass (nickname Pinky) chimed in and wondered how much we were going to charge.  Shirley, kind of gave him the look and told him that they don't charge, but normally the family donates a bit to the cause.  Pinky said, well I was talking to them today and told them we charge $250.  I didn't realize they let men on the women's committee, but apparently Pinky is the self-appointed business manager.  I think if they stick with him, they can make a profit on funeral dinners.  Mother daughter banquets will now have a cover charge at the door also.

With all this being said, they did make me chuckle, but it also made me go through the list and think about who's going to follow up?  Who's going to follow in the footsteps of those ahead of us?  They are pretty big shoes to fill, they have worked hard and kept the church moving forward.  I don't have many talents or gifts.  I can wash dishes, but don't ask me to plan a dinner.  Please please please, don't make me do bible school...I'm not a kid person.  Decorate the alter?? no way!  I can play the piano.....people don't believe me when I tell them I fake it, but trust me I fake it.  My former piano teacher would be cringing if she knew how many notes I'm skipping over.  As long as you can hear the melody and keep the tempo moving that's all I care.  April 1 there is a women's ministry board meeting to plan the next year....am I ready to commit?  Has anyone ever been kicked out of the group, because I'm thinking I could be the first!  More importantly, I think I have a lot to learn and should probably start training right away.  Let's start with gravy making perhaps.

FEMINISM: WHO HAS TIME FOR THAT?

The topic for today is Feminism.  My feminism only goes so far.  I believe in equal pay for equal work.  The end. I really don't have time.....okay I have time, I just lack ambition. 

Gloria Steinem was recently on TV and claims we are only 30% into the feminist movement.  What?  What's missing?  We can vote, We can now fight in a war,  someday there will be a woman president right? what's missing? I'm kind of content.

You will never, ever see me vote for a woman for president just because she is a woman. (re-read that last sentence you probably read it wrong) I will vote for the best person.  If a woman happens to win, we can then celebrate the first woman president, that's fine.  How about Danica the race car driver.  Kudos to her for breaking into a mostly male sport, but why can't we just lump her in with the guys?  She came in 8th.....not bad for a woman?  Rickie Bobby says "if your not first your last"  When they said start your engines, why did they say "Driver's and Danica start your engines"....That doesn't even make sense.  Also, how would we take it if Danica was say 200 lbs with a touch of a hormonal imbalance that created a slight upper lip mustache?  Yea, I don't think it would quite be the same. There is now a woman cage fighter, who is as tough as she is hot, says the men at the office.  I mean come on didn't that girl who hit that other girl in the knee caps over a skating gold medal go into cage fighting after that incident?  I think her name was Tonya Harding.  There is also a girl trying to be a kicker for a football team. My daughter welds. (with a fashionable Pink tool belt I might add)  Woo Hooo...All these women doing great manly things and I'm just over here making sure my pink paperclips, match my pink stapler which matches my pink toes and fingernails.  I like Pink Moscato and pink roses.  Pink is my color.

We now allow women to serve on the front line in a war.  That's fair as long as the woman doesn't put her male counterparts in danger and keeps up her end of the war.  You would not want Bobbie Canton on the front line.  No way...it would go something like this:

Commander:  Okay Canton, we need hike up that hill and that's where we will set up camp.

Bobbie:  No thanks sir, I'm pretty whipped.   You go ahead get the camp set up and bring the jeep back down and pick me up.  I will just be sitting on this tree stump checking in on Facebook and eating my pop tart.

Yea, no thanks, camping and combat are not my cup of tea. 

When John dies, I will be able to handle the things that require a brain.  The bills, the insurance, the burial etc etc etc, but I get no personal satisfaction or gratification out of changing my oil, changing a flat tire, or mowing the grass.  I have Jiffy Lube, Triple A, and a guy named Herb for these tasks.  Hell, I even hate to  pump my own gas. Sometimes when I'm really desperate I bribe John with sexual favors to get a full tank of gas.  I'M KIDDING!!!  Seriously, I would never stoop that low.  Also, for the record, when John goes I will be getting a white long haired Persian kitty with a little pink bow on her tiny little noggin.  I shall call her, Elizabeth.  Elizabeth and I will shop on the Internet and she will eat Fancy Feast out of a fine dessert dish.  It will be lovely. 

Let's change gears for a moment and focus on corporate CEO's.  You have all heard of the woman who left Google and went to Yahoo and started bossing people around right? Apparently she loves a challenge because in my opinion Google has it all going on and Yahoo does not.  There is no doubt that women can get it done, but sometimes our approach is a bit....I don't know....maybe obnoxious?  The fact is women will eat their own.  We will chew them up, regurgitate them out and flush the toilet on another woman.  The guys in my office claim that when a woman walks through the door, whether it be a customer or an applicant, each one of us girls look up and down this woman and snarl at her. We look at her ass, her clothes and her hair.  It's like having a strange new chicken in the hen house ya know? In our defense, seriously why would she wear that much jewelry to a job interview?  Her clothes are way too tight and with a rock like that on her hand, why does she even need to work?  Yea....we hate her. 

Women by nature are coordinators, teachers, organizers and usually are actually pretty darn good about picking our battles.  The Yahoo CEO needs to learn a lesson or two in the picking your battles thing.    I can't wait until her now new born child is a 9 years old with severe Attention Deficit Disorder and the teacher is calling her because he drank a bottle of bubbles and is threatening to blow bubbles out his ass for show and tell.  She will be out of the office more than she is in it. Jr will be running her butt off back and forth to detention.  Oh, and if she really wants to experience motherhood, I would suggest another child 15 months after the first one.  I'm NOT saying you aren't a real mother if you only have one child, I'm saying you are smart :)  No, seriously, parenting two children is a lot different than one.  See, number two will cover for number one and number one covers for number three.  There are more lies being tossed around than when Bill Clinton was in the White House talking about his definition of sex and how he DID NOT have sex with that woman!  Ms. what's her name won't have time to worry about who's working at home or under your feet at the office. 

Okay back to my point:  Miss uptight is on her throne and one of her first ordinances is that people shall now come to work to work.There will be no more working from home.  She advises people to use "their better judgement" when having to stay home for repairmen and in making appointments.  I understand "facetime" I really do.  I see the need to have meetings when everyone is in the same room (although there is Skype...just sayin')  However trust me when I say this, if you have a lot of  meetings your employees aren't doing what they are supposed to be doing.  Meetings are very unproductive after the first 20-30 minutes.  They are the biggest time wasters that companies have. ( Let me throw in an analogy here about sermons that are too long  at church also. Our minds are good for 20 minutes, please use those minutes wisely.  After that you may as well stand in the pulpit and talk like Charlie Browns Teacher...waa waa waa because we probably aren't hearing you.)

Dear Ms. Mayer, you are in the tech business please act accordingly. Coming into the office 8 hours a day is so 80's.  Micro managing good employees, is not the way of the future.  You can monitor your employees at home.  You can measure their productivity.  You can set up certain hours or meetings that you want them in the office if brainstorming meetings are necessary.  Maybe on those days, let their children play in the nursery you built for YOUR son.  Teach him to share for Gawd's sakes.  There is more than one way to skin a cat, please use your imagination.  Take your grumpy off and try to relate to people.  If there are slackers taking advantage at home, counsel them, call them out, but dang don't go back to the dark ages.  Don't make it harder for other people who want to do life.  Be an advocate for all people.  Make people want more women as CEO's.  Right now, you are making me appreciate and prefer my male bosses.  Women are just as smart, some are just as physically strong, but some feel the need  to try to prove their leadership by increasing their crabbiness.  Work on those leadership skills, not your bossy skills.

 

KIDS WITH TATTOOS AND THE MOTHER WHO LOVES THEM (THE KIDS, NOT THE TATTOOS)

When I first started working at Superior Dairy, I was 17 years old and as hayseed as they come.  I was raised you don't drink, you don't smoke and for GAWDS sakes don't get tattoos and you don't date those who do.

Well, my first day on the job, I was shocked.  There were women there who actually smoked, drank, had tattoos and on top of everything else they were mostly divorced.  OMG how was I going to be able to work around these slutty women.  Don't worry I soon became used to their sinful ways because I was afraid they would  put me in a 50 gallon drum and haul me off to the dump.  I learned to kiss a$$ at a very early age out of fear for my life.  Seriously, one woman actually shot her husband through the roof of her house.  He was on the roof she was inside and apparently shot through the ceiling and got the bastard.  If you think I'm going to mess with the likes of her forget it!!  So, I didn't mess with them and they didn't mess with me. 

I believe my views have softened on social issues because my children have just plain crushed my soul.  Their knack of NOT following the parental guidelines I have set before them has forced me to join them rather than beat them to death.  I've come a long way since being 17.  I now don't judge people on whether they drink, smoke, been divorced or have tattoos.  There are some very nice people in those categories actually. 

Once again, I was texting my older daughter Sam.  I was merely checking in with her because I have not heard much since Ben has been home from nearly a year away in Afghanistan.  

Me:  What's up?

2 hours later:

Sam:  Nothing, just getting a tattoo. 

Okay, let me fill you in.  The very day Sam turned 18 she got a tattoo.  No, she didn't get permission or tell me, I read a text and found it out.  (It’s on her side/stomach; it looks like the Jack and the Bean stock stock) Actually as tattoos goes it's pretty tasteful. It is black and white, and it's about 3 feet long. When she was pregnant it grew to about six feet long. (Okay that's probably an exaggeration)  Still I was appalled that she actually thought her 18th birthday meant something because to me the age doesn't matter, it's where the fiscal responsibility stops and starts that matters.  You know....my house my rules?  Yea, whatever.  My kids wrote their own rules.

Child number two aka Sarah got herself inked. (doesn't that sound like she's a prisoner in the pen or something?) She drew hers herself.  It's a character and it's between a sheep and a goat.  She named him Vincent, I call him Leonard.  It’s on her foot.  Then a couple years later, she did the tattoo no no no....she got a name of a boyfriend tattooed on her shoulder. WTH....where did I go wrong?  The only time you get a name tattooed on your person is if they died or if it's a child.  I mean I suppose I could get John's name tattooed after 28 years, but why?  My worry would be when the archeologist digs me up hundreds of years from now they will think my name was John.  The name Bobbie Jean is bad enough.  Anyway, just last year Sarah covered up Joseph and replaced it with a dang big bird that looks like that bird Edgar Allen Poe wrote about......Said the Raven.....Nevermore.  It seriously gives me the creeps. 




Want to hear about Jonathan's tattoo?  There's nothing to tell, the good son doesn't have one.  Okay, back to Sam's Text.

Me:  What tattoo are you getting do tell?
Sam:  I'm starting a sleeve.
Me:  Hahahahah you are so funny.
Sam:  don't freak out, I'm seriously starting a sleeve, it doesn't even go to my elbow.
Me:  Ben said he didn't want you to get a tattoo and now he's allowing a sleeve?  Really? 
Sam:  He suggested it.  Don't worry, I have to re-schedule and come back next week.

Okay so now I have time to kick Ben's ass prior to the appointment. 

Sam:  I pinned it on pinterest if you want to see it. 

So I went to her "Tattoo board" and found all kinds of tattoos.  Some I liked and some not so much.  This is the one she wants.



I don't get to vote, but if I did, my vote would be something like the one below:  I like tattoos with meaning.  I actually want to get one myself.  I like Angelina Jolies tattoos where she has the coordinates tattooed where each of her children were born.  Now that has meaning. 




Or Even this one: 

:

The following bible verse is what' I'm getting on my shoulder or maybe down my spine.  You know.....something biblical.

Proverbs 30:17  The eye that mocks a father and scorns to obey a mother will be picked out by the ravens of the valley and eaten by the vultures.......

Who me? Negative? No I'm a Realist

People insinuate that I will find the negative in things before the bright spots.  I remember having a discussion with some women at work.  We were discussing periods of all things.  One girl said "someone here should volunteer to explain the facts of life to Bobbie's girls because she will scare them to death"  Jeez, am I that bad?  I  simply told them the truth.  Once a month evil aunt maxi (Short for Maxine) will come and you will simply feel like crap.  The misery lasts approx five days, then after that you will have a couple good weeks and then prior to Aunt Maxi coming again you will not fit in any of your jeans, your boobs will hurt, and you will feel like biting the head off a bat.  What's wrong with that?  I call it reality and everyone else calls it negativity. Really?  Raise your hand if you like this monthly intrusion?  Tell me one  positive thing about it?  Wait, I have a positive, If I'm having a period I'M NOT PREGNANT.  WOOHOO!! 

As for my negativity, well I'm a realist.  If something can go wrong it will.  Every time a kid actually rings my phone, my heart starts beating to the point of a heart attack and I get instant diarrhea.  They don't call unless there is a car or a crisis involved.  I've learned texts sometimes can be no better. (this is an actual text conversation, I'm not even kidding)

Kid:  Now, don't panic, but we had a small grease fire in the kitchen.
ME:  WTF!!!  (Well That's Fantastic)
Kid:  Do I call insurance or just stick my head in the oven and get it over with.
ME:  Call insurance please.... I will stick my head in the oven.

First off, don't start a sentence with "now don't panic"  That just means panic. What's even more funny is how the conversation continued.

Kid:  I was so scared, I forgot everything I was supposed to do
ME:  I think you are supposed to plop a kid on it and smother it.
ME:  OMG I meant a LID not a KID....do not put a kid on it!
Kid:  We used a blanket to try to smother it.  It caught fire.
ME: OMG......
Kid:  They told us to use a towel, we lacked a towel
ME:  who is "they"?  did you stop to google "How to put out a grease fire"  or something?
Kid:  Noooo from the fire safety crap I learned back in the day.  Smother the grease, no water.

I'd bet my next paycheck they used water....Just sayin'.


So this past Friday I'm having a pretty good TGIF and my phone rings with a number I didn't recognize.  Oh what the hell, I will answer it because I don't know.... I'm kind of bored.

Man:  Hi, Is this Jon's mom?
Me:  Yes it is, but I have to go to the bathroom now and I might throw up.  Is he in Jail? Wreck? Hurt?  Murder? Will this cost me my retirement? Will it require an attorney?
Man:  Your son fell off a ladder here at work and fell on his head.
Man:  He is on his way to Aultman Hopsital in an ambulance.
Me:  Psht is that all?  Okay thanks for calling, I will head over to the hospital. 

( By the way, the falling off the ladder and landing on his head is a true story, I'm glad to report his head broke his fall ....we are very fortunate it wasn't more serious)

 I wish I had let the phone ring and had a recording that would say  "if this message is about people by the  name of Samantha, Sarah or Jon with no H, please call their father, I have retired and moved to Hawaii.  I do not require Birthday or Mother's Day cards any longer.  In fact I am in the witness protection program so don't waste a lot of time trying to find me. 

People wonder why I absolutely HATE HATE HATE talking on the phone.  My phone is not for talking.  It's for texting, facebooking and surfing the net.  I feel like that dog that hears a bell and starts salivating.  When my phone rings I get diarhea.  Frankly I'm tired of it.

Everyone has heard about Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome?  I believe in it whole heartily. I'm not even joking about it so please don't take offense. I have a different form of the Syndrome.  I have  Post Traumatic Stress Caused by Teen and Young Adult Children.  I may never be the same.  Seriously, it is not normal to hyperventilate when your child calls or you get calls from unknown numbers.  Yes, I'm negative (or facing reality) but I have three very good reasons! 

  For those of you who are taking everything I say seriously....good because I'm not even kidding.  My goal is when I'm old and my kids are on MY speed dial, I will disguise my voice and say..."excuse me is this Bobbie's daughter?  You need to come get your mom she apparently has taken up jogging and all she is wearing are her tennis shoes.  Paybacks are going to be a bitch! 

Happy New Years....What's your New Years Resolution?

Wow, we've been into this new year two weeks now.  I have to tell you for the first time EVER, the holidays were MISERABLE.  I have probably mentioned more than once that I just couldn't get into them this year.  No offense to anyone, but everything just felt forced and felt like we were just doing it because it was the thing to do.  Did I mention I hate divorce?  I hate that we have to take a day such as Christmas and divide it up to where it practically lasts an entire month.  Oh I could write an entire blog on this subject alone but it would only hurt people's feelings.  I swear I always say I would like to just go away for Christmas.  However, all that would mean is everyone would have to see us ahead of time so we still would not avoid the rat race.  Yes, when I think about Christmas I'm so glad it's over and have already started pre hating it for next year.  I need an attitude adjustment badly. 

The Sickness we had in our house didn't help my ho ho ho any.  It started started December 10th and lasted until this week.  This last monday was the first day that my wheezing and coughing seems to be stifled.  It was the first ailment to present itself and the last to leave.  Believe me there were other ugly symptoms in there which I will spare you the details.  It went through the entire family.  So in between being sick and trying to make sure everyone bought into my Merry Christmas acting job, life pretty much sucked.

However, as I was thinking of some New Year's Resolutions, I knew I was going to avoid the "diet"  that has been my resolution for 30 years and something tells me that ain't going to happen this year either.  What I would like to be though is a deeper more spiritual person.  A kinder, gentler Bobbie who tries to understand that maybe my way of thinking isn't always right.  Maybe, just maybe, the very person I am judging is coming from somewhere God has chosen not to take me on my journey.  (although, he's taking me on plenty of journeys of my own) In fact God, my lesson is learned I will have more sympathy and empathy for others, I don't need anymore journeys.....thanks anyway!

I'm really into the "random acts of kindness" movement.  Someone said to me "There are people, you just can't help"  I don't believe that.  There are people you may not change.  There are people that may always be who they are, but it's not our job to change them, it's our job to love them.  So,how about this....everyday let's make it a point to say or do one encouraging thing.  It can be as simple as holding a door open for someone  (and no old bat don't ask me if I want a tip....a simple thank you would be sufficient.)  See, this kinder gentler thing is not going to be easy for me.  It's easy to be nice and caring to people who are nice and caring to us, but God said we have to love our enemies.  Ugh....here goes nothing....or everything.

My other resolution is to simply stretch my mind.  I love to read, but I find myself reading biography's about other peoples lives, or love stories.  I need to start reading something that may not normally appeal to me.  I have a friend or two who likes to read holocaust stories.  I just can't do it...I can't.  I know it's real, I know awful things happened and I just can't find my self wanting to read about it.  So, give me some suggestions of a couple non-violent good books.  I'm going to try to read six books outside my comfort zone to try to stretch my feeble little mind.   

What are your resolutions this year?  Anything out of the ordinary from other past years?  I just need to be a better person.  I can feel my aneurysm acting up already.....it could be a long year.

MERRY CHRISTMAS: THE SEASON OF HOPE

Normally I really really love Christmas, but this year I just couldn't get into it.  I faked my way through.  I suppose you get out of it what you put into it, but I really felt no energy to put much into it.  We have had so much sickness this last month, that it was just about all I could do to go to work, let alone prepare for the biggest day of the year. 

The one thing I truly did do this year is focus on the real reason for this season.  We glorify the Christmas Story, we make it sound so cozy and peaceful.  Perhaps through God's grace it was just that.  As I was sitting in church this advent season, I kept thinking where was Mary's mother?  I wonder if Mary yearned for her mom to be there to be her support, her guide, her help in time of such need.  I know when I had my babies I found my mom to be a huge help, resource and source of encouragement.  Our minister, in his sermon last Sunday, touched on what I had been wondering since the beginning of advent.  Because of the Census Mary and Joseph had to travel many many miles to Bethlehem when she was so close to delivering.  Just imagine.....imagine being a mere teenager and forced to leave a mother and family you need so much to comply with a census, only to get to your destination and not being able to find proper lodging.  Through it all....God provided. 

I think of this past year and how as a family in some really tough times, we have pulled together.  Through it all God has provided.  When all seems doom and gloom he pulls us through the other side.  He puts the right people in your life just as you need that bit of encouragement and hope. 

I have also been dwelling on how many people are missing the ones they love this holiday season.  I think of the families waking up today in Connecticut who two weeks ago thought this would be a wonderful Christmas with their children only to have them ripped from their arms just a week and a half before Christmas.  What are they feeling today?  How do you deal with such tragedy?  How do you face Christmas ever again?   There are no human answers to these questions.  They say time heals.  I'm not sure I totally buy that.  I believe time provides a scab over the wound to where it maybe it doesn't hurt so bad, but it will always be there. 

My personal belief is that God provided hope in his Son and therefore we ALWAYS have hope even when things feel hopeless.  God provides.  My hope and prayer for everyone is that they find this HOPE, believe this HOPE and believe that through it all God is there and he will provide according to his will.  ( the according to his will is what scares me :)......My faith is not always strong, in fact sometimes it can be very weak, but this I know.....God's love is everlasting.  

 For I am persuaded, that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come,

 Nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

Merry Christmas to all!!

HAS ANYONE SEEN OUR SILVERWARE?



The Good, the Bad and the Ugly

 Here is a fork line up.  I am asking anyone who may have any forks matching the one on the left to please leave them on our front deck.....no questions asked. 

I thought we got through Thanksgiving without a problem until a few days later when John was apparently counting the silverware.  Seems there are a few special pieces missing.  I just don't know what to think.  (We can talk about John's anal retentiveness in a later blog)

28 years ago, just before we were married, we picked out a special set of silverware at the JC Penny Outlet Store.  I believe there were only place settings for 8.  A few years later my mom bought us more silverware in a different pattern and I gave her most of our old.  Well, I didn't realize it at the time but  we liked are weddin' wear better than our next set and I wouldn't have given the first set away had I known John was so attached to them.

Somehow, he had managed to hang on to a  handful of forks from his favorite set.  When we set the table you MUST, if you don't want to hear a ton of whining, set his spot with a "good" fork.  Even Taylor realizes this when she sets the table.

Well, Thanksgiving came and went.  We had a great day.  However, it seems a few of John's favorite forks have disappeared.  We have 12 suspects, but we can easily narrow it down to two....My mom and Sarah.

The possibilities are endless with Sarah, did she throw them  in the trash with the take out she finished eating?  Are they stuck to some bowls or plates somewhere in her room? Did you check her car?   I mean ever since we found the meat thermometer in the bathtub we really aren't sure what to think about her.  We tend to find cooking paraphernalia in every room of the house. 

The other prime suspect is my mom. She has the rest of the set.  Did she think these were hers and put them in her purse to re unite them with the rest at her house?  I'm actually leaning towards Vivian more than anyone because EVERY pot, pan, casserole dish I would pull out of my cupboard on Thanksgiving she would say "I used to have one just like that"  OR  "I think I gave that to you" OR (as she is on all fours down looking through my cupboards) "I know I left that bowl with a lid here someplace.   Remember when I brought you potato salad in that in 2005?"  "You never gave it back to me"  Now, this woman can hardly remember her grand children's names, but she knows every dish, pot, pan, and casserole dish she has ever had in her 55 years of marriage.

So mom, if you have a few of our good forks, I will trade you the 1950 metal, dented pan you were coveting at Thanksgiving. 

Until this caper is figured out, I'm setting up metal detection and possibly lie detector tests for Christmas.  We can't afford another silverware heist!

My Voting Experience and Other Random Stuff

There are two jobs I would like to do in additional to my 9-5 career.  I want to be on the air conditioning/heat committee at church ( Dear St. Paul's, setting the air conditioning at 78 degrees is not air conditioning, it does however, represent an oven. Love in Christ, Bobbie) and I want to organize and lead the group of people that volunteer at the polls.   OH MY GOODNESS.....I'm not generally a high strung person, but I like organization and promptness.  Organization and promptness was not currently available in our precinct.  Let's face it, people who are retired, and I will be one of these people some day, have no worries about time.  Time is not exactly a resource they care much about. They paid their dues of running kids around, meeting deadlines, volunteering etc. They are now relaxing and enjoying life.  They have looked forward to this election for the last four years.  It is a social event that is for sure.    I'm happy for them.  I hope I live to see that day. 

The day of the election, I thought I would pop in, vote and be on my way to work.  The polls open at 6:30....or do they? Our faithful pollsters, Hilda, Matilda, Edith and George (the token man) didn't quite have their sh** together at 6:30 or 6:35 or 6:40.  Time is ticking and my head is about ready to explode.  They are shuffling and re-shuffling papers, taping crap on the walls, talking amongst themselves about not liking the way the books are put together.  Meanwhile, the rest of us were sitting on a bench waiting for these four spark plugs to start hitting on all four cylinders.  (I know nothing about cars so this analogy may not be a good one)  The line is getting longer and longer.  Some guy in line next to me starting complaining about how the news said there were already problems with the voting machines.  I just looked at him and pointed to Hilda who wore the lanyard around her neck that programs your computer cards you use to vote.  Very dryly I said "therein may be our problem"  It's probably not the voting machine. There is probably more than one Hilda around the country.  Bless her heart she is trying.  She is doing the first card.  She slides it in.....it beeps.  She slides it out.... it beeps.  She turns it over..... it beeps. She wipes it on her pants and tries again...it beeps, she gets her hankie out to wipe it off and it beeps again.she takes her glasses off, she puts her glasses on...  She can't get it to work. About this time my aneurysm started acting up.

The worst part however was just the fact they were not ready at 6:30 sharp.  As more time passes and I'm getting more and more pissed.  I make eye contact with Matilda and give her the stink eye, eye roll, and a deep sigh.  She pretends not to notice.  That didn't help.  We continued to sit some more.  I commented to the lady beside me how I really need to get to work.  She says snidely "well you just may need to come after work"  Really? Really?  You just may need to....I don't know.......shut up.  I'm here on time (it's past time now) The four amigos are getting a list ready for Fred of what they want for lunch, and I have some where to be.  This day is going to have a record turn out and we are not equipped to handle the first three people in line??

Let's move on to the second and actually the biggest problem.  I would bet my next paycheck that the procedure for voting has been the same at this particular precinct since I was in diapers.  You go in and there are 4 people sitting at the table.  Edith, asks for your ID (yes a valid ID, what nerve!!)  She looks to make sure you are who you say, your license is not expired, your address is correct and you are in the correct precinct.  I was expecting her to say something like  "oh, I see you lie about your weight.... Mrs. Obama has just the diet for you!", but she didn't.  She validates who you are and then she looks in the BIG BOOK for your name.  She compares your information and address to what is written in her big book.  She then passes your license to Matilda, who has another big book in front of her.  She finds your name, and has you sign beside it.  Then she yells past Fred down to the computer programmer/IT manager Hilda "SHE'S IN SANDY VALLEY SCHOOL DISTRICT!!!  I waltz right past Fred who apparently is just eye candy and a decent lunch for these women.  I get to Hilda and hold my breath.  I say a quick prayer that goes something like this. 

Dear God,

Please don't let it be this hard to get into heaven.
Please tell me that the Big Book is automated and
not manned by Moses. (he had a a little time issue getting out of the dessert)
Please tell me there will be no one flipping through pages while I
hold what little breath I have left.

Also, God, Please help Hilda as she programs my card.

In Jesus Name I pray, AMEN.

Hilda does a great job.

  There is a sign that says, Please don't take more than five minutes to vote"  OK really?  It took me 25 minutes, four seniors, and two gigantic books to get through to a voting machine and they want you to take no more than five minutes to exercise your right to vote.  I should have brushed up on the issues because I really didn't know what some of them were.  If I were to read them all, it seriously would have taken a lot longer than 5 minutes. 

Now, in all seriousness, is this how they vote in NYC? Chicago? LA?  Is there no better system out there?  This truly isn't a volunteer problem exactly (though they should have been ready for their first voter at exactly 6:30) The year is 2012. We put a four wheeler on Mars this year.   Do we really still have to flip through gigantic books and have four people to help one person vote.  I think it's just crazy.  Some of this is my fault, I'm kind of old fashioned and want to vote on election day and not by mail, but I have to say I will reconsider next time. If I want to see retirement I need to calm my racing heart down and avoid stressful situations.

Meanwhile, I'm getting my resume together to be a volunteer next year.  I have my girls picked out, plus John.(he will hand out stickers)  Vivian is in charge of breakfast, lunch and dinner.  I will be there at 5am setting up and decorating.  It will be a blast!